On [martial] Confidentiality.

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I recently started working at a hospital.

Which means dinner conversation at our house now equals HIPAA married to Clergy-Penitent Privilege. 

For example:

"How was your day?"

"It was so interesting!"

"Oh yeah? What happened?"

"I can't tell you." (pause) "Well, how was your day?"

"It was so sad!"

"Oh no! What happened?"

"I can't tell you."

--resume eating--

"This is delicious!"

"Wanna watch LOST?"

On [the 3 songs I currently have on] Repeat.

I'm really not a musically-inclined person, other than the fact that I played the oboe for nine years. True story. My college roommate could tell you that I have a problem--when I like a song, I listen to it over and over. It drove her crazy!

But if you're anything like me and know what you like and don't care what anyone thinks, here are three songs I currently have on repeat.

1. When I Was Your Man, Bruno Mars

I love this song, because I assume every guy who isn't Adam is probably singing it about me. Just kidding. But really, sometimes all I really want to do is dance. And thanks for calling me a strong woman, Bruno.

2. 10,000 Reasons, Matt Redman


I like to listen to this song while I'm in the shower. It's a good, anthemy dedicate-your-day-to-Jesus-song.

3. Begin Again, Taylor Swift


This song is about Paris, and love, and new beginnings. It's basically the story of Kelly's summer 2012. And I adore it.

What songs do you find yourself repeating?

On [pins I deem worthy of] Pinning: Pinterest Round-Up Volume 2.1

This week, I started making a blogging calendar to help generate ideas and also to keep myself accountable to scheduled blogging. I realized that I stopped doing my weekly Pinterest round-up, and am decided to resurrect it.

Each Saturday, I'll feature my favorite finds on Pinterest in six categories:
1. food (I'll start with everyone's favorite!)
2. diy
3. decor
4. clothes (including shoes and accessories!)
5. inspirational quote
6. humor (because everyone loves a laugh!)

My only promise is that there will be no pictures of cuddly small animals. Unless they are rhinos, which I only have one picture of so I'll just post it now to get it out of the way.

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1. food
I seriously cannot WAIT to plan out dinners to make for/with my almost-hubs. This paella reminds me of living in France, because the family I lived with LOVED to eat paella.


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2. diy
Cluttered countertops are SO annoying in two places: the kitchen and the bathroom. Here is a simple way to clear those bathroom counters, while still having the essentials close at hand!



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3. decor
My little sister has an Etsy shop, and she's basically brilliant in the artistic abilities department. Here is a piece she recently made. It also just happens to be close to our wedding colors!

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4. clothes
I adore this bag. I wish the dimensions were a little larger so I could fit my laptop in it!

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5. inspirational quote
I just love this.

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6. humor
This is basically me. I need to get the story from my mom about how I tried ballet when I was a toddler, and basically decided I only liked to dance when I wanted, how I wanted.

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On [over 2 years of] Climbing Mount Everest.

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It took me about two years to climb Mount Everest.

Well, I didn't actually complete the greatest (and most dangerous) mountainous experience the world has to offer in the picturesque Asian Himalayan range. I simply faithfully took the stairs instead of the elevator to work. Three stories. Every day. For two years.

A little math and a few google searches helped me discover by accomplishment.

52 stairs a day.
4 days a week.
17 inches per stair.
48ish weeks per year.
2 years.
Plus two months.
Divided by 63,360 to get miles.

5.6366 miles.

And Great Everest is only 5.499053 miles.

I'll say that's a pretty grand accomplishment. If you think your work is meaningless. Or your stuck in an in-between job. Or you are feeling particularly fat and sassy...

Take the stairs. Climb Everest. Rejoice!

On [the bipolar weather of] The Ozarks.

Can we just have a serious conversation about the weather? I don't want to be all complain-y and/or stating the obvious. And I'm sure you're all thinking, "Really, Kelly! You can't think of anything better to talk about than the weather?"

Bear with me. I live in the Ozarks. Here is a snapshot of the atmospheric conditions we experienced the past few days.

Sunday: 45 and overcast. Medium-jacket-and-optional-scarf weather.

Monday: 75 and sunny. Take-a-walk-outside weather.
That was not a typo...seriously 70s in JANUARY!

Tuesday: 65 and thunderstorms. Better-have-rainboots-and-good-windshield-wipers weather. I was fairly certain I was cheating death driving home from work yesterday. Missouri roads are NOT made for large quantities of water. They need to call up their friends in Oregon to learn a thing or two about how to make roads that can handle water. (They might also want to glean a few tips about recycling, but I'll save that for another post).


These were seriously necessary yesterday!

Today: 30 and snow. Getting-pelted-by-hail-on-the-way-to-lunch weather.

This is insane. Is the weather in your area equally as roller coaster-y and confusing to your body? Can someone please invent a weather stabilization machine?

On Finding [out more than I wanted to know about] George

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There was a time early on in high school, back in the days of MySpace and AOL instant messenger, when I stumbled upon a web site called "Where's George." My mom, ever the avid reader, had found an article in a magazine about the site, and I was thrilled when she told me about it.

The function of the site: track your dollar bills.

In order to track your bills, you simply enter the serial number of the bill into the site. If someone before you has entered the bill, it will have a list of the places the bill has been and the people who have owned the bill before you. It told you what city they were in, how long it took the bill to travel there, the bill's speed, and a little note from the person who entered the bill before or after you. Sometimes people would write "wheresgeorge.com" on the bills to encourage others to enter the bill's information.

After entering the bill, it was to be used just as you would regular cash currency.

I went on a george finding rampage. I entered all the dollar bills I could get my hands on. I would leave detailed information about where I got my bills: the mall, at work, my mom's purse. It was especially exciting when bills I entered had a prior history, or when a bill was entered by another user after I'd sent it on into the world of legal tender exchange.

The stories were generally simple. "Received as a tip at the Downtown Deli in Anchorage, Ak. The bill is in good condition." "I received this bill as change when crossing the Benicia Bridge in the San Francisco Bay Area and took it home to Truckee Ca., Lake Tahoe Area." "Received bill while selling Discovery Toys at the LA County Fair."

Some of the entries didn't make sense. "Has pink highlighter on it...was probably involved in a bank robbery." "The black guy brought it in to Sinclair, but then we gave it back to him." What?

But even the strange entries didn't deter me from my mission. I loved learning about the stories of the bills. I loved seeing how long it took for my money to travel from Albany, Oregon to North Carolina, Alaska, Utah, and Nevada.

Until one day.

I emptied my wallet to enter all my bills. I entered the numbers and years of each one into the web site, careful to scrawl "wheresgeorge.com" on the top and side of each bill. About halfway through my stack, I finally found a bill that had been entered into the site before. I was so excited, and quickly perused the dollar's history.

"I am a stripper. I got this bill as a tip. thanx."

Before I could finish reading the sentence, all of my cash was on the ground. How could I touch money again? It took me several weeks to get over washing my hands every time I was near money. After a year or two of entering my money, my quest to find every bill's history ended.

I learned that every dollar bill has a story, and every "george" is on a journey. In the same way, every person has a story, and is on a journey. Many times people's stories seem simple and straightforward, sometimes people are strange and don't make sense, and other times people disgust us. We don't want to touch them. We don't want to get close to them. We want to wash our hands of them. 

That is the paradox of being a Christian. When we naturally want to disengage and move away from people, we probably should try and understand them. That's what Jesus does for us. The people who are weird and gross to us probably need love the most. That's what Jesus did when he was on earth. When we humble ourselves and get over our pride, we can actually hear their story, understand them better, and maybe even learn to love them.

On Purses, Peanut Butter M&Ms, and [Dr.] Pepper.

I'm working on eliminating "stuff" from my life, like old purses I no longer use.
But first I'm telling their stories.
I introduced "Project Simplify: Stories of My Stuff" earlier this week.

The purse and I met on May 7, 2010. We were in the atrium of James River Assembly, immediately following my high-heeled jaunt across the stage. I'd shook hands with the president of the university, held my empty diploma case, and smiled for the hired photographers next to an American flag.

Commencement.

Beginnings.

The purse was a gift from my Grandma (who couldn't make it to my graduation), but was picked out by my little sister. It was filled with a huge bouquet of flowers and two huge bags of peanut butter M&Ms.

Favorites.

Love in the form of chocolate and flowers and the perfect purse: pink, yellow flowers, the ideal size, straps of the most desirable length.

This purse and I were inseparable, my companion, my other half, until that fateful day last November. My friends and I were headed out to see Twilight: Breaking Dawn, Part 1. In usual fashion, I put snacks in my purse, including a can of Dr. Pepper.

Bad Idea.

[Note to readers: only put plastic containers of drinks in your purse. Or purchase your drinks at the theatre. Don't be cheap. It could ruin everything.]

Upon arrival at the theatre, I realized my mistake. My entire purse and all of its contents were soaked with sticky Dr. Pepper that had exploded during the journey to Campbell 16. I salvaged what I could, and threw away the rest...gum wrappers, bobby pins, weird worthless items that always seem to find their way to the bottom recesses of my handbag. 

After this incident, I knew it was time to retire the pink purse from graduation.

You'd think I would have learned my lesson, but I definitely tried smuggling a hot Starbucks coffee in with me to drink while watching Brave in August.

On [rivers of] Sweat and Trying New Things.

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A friend of mine recently dropped 20 pounds doing hot yoga. So I thought, why not. What do I have to lose? 20 pounds? Count me in!

We waited in line for 45 minutes to ensure a spot for our yoga mat in the steamy studio. I imagined myself perfectly steady in my Scorpion pose, tiny beads of sweat glistening on my forehead, at peace with myself and my body and the world.

Instead, once inside, I found myself stretching and deep-breathing with 30 of my new best friends, the temperature pushing 110 degrees Fahrenheit, and rivers of sweat gushing from every pore in my body. The “guide” (that’s what they call the instructor who tells you what to do, but doesn’t actually do it herself) encouraged us to let go of our stress and focus only on our breathing. This was difficult because I was sure everyone could hear my breathing, and also I can SEE MYSELF IN THE MIRROR (and um, did she just touch my hips??!?).

At every new pose attempt I would catch my own gaze and struggle against the internal giggle, as if someone had just reminded me of a great inside joke. I’d look up and see the sweat pouring down limbs and want to exclaim, “This is crazy! I didn’t know I could sweat so much!” But, as our guide had reminded us, there was no talking allowed in the sacred room where we do our practice. (Apparently yoga is a practice, not simply a workout.) At first, I was determined to finish the 80 minutes strong; to pause only for the occasional sip of water and dab my perspiring brow. However, about half way through I stopped caring entirely. I took off my drenched shirt, gulped down water, and got real comfy in child’s pose. (That’s the one where you don’t have to actually exert energy.)

Situated between my yoga-experienced-dropped-20-pounds-doing-this friend, my never-done-yoga-in-her-life roommate, and a mirror running from floor to ceiling, wall to wall, I wondered why in the heck I’d decided this was a good idea. Oh, let’s go do our workout IN A SAUNA! Brilliant. Next time let’s try Hot Jazzercise! Stay right here while I go hide ice packs in my yoga pants.

I have to admit, afterwards I felt amazing—mostly because I’d tried something new, powered through, and I wasn’t nearly as terrible as I expected I’d be. I also have a newfound respect for yoga-ites everywhere. Seriously.

On a Letter from a Reader [in prison].

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The summer between my junior and senior year of college I interned at a magazine that was sent weekly to readers and churches all over the country. (I've compiled a list of links to writing I've done elsewhere, if you're interested.) 

This publication was also sent to prisons, giving it a large demographic of incarcerated readers.

Since magazines are written, designed, compiled, edited and completed months before they are actually mailed out, most of the stuff I worked on didn't get into the hands of readers until after my internship was completed. A few months after I was gone, I received an email from one of editors at the magazine with a letter addressed to me from a reader (unedited for grammar and spelling).

I'm putting it here for your reading enjoyment and so I can find it easily in the future (when I need a good laugh). I truly hope this man is still in prison (for my own safety) and not a frequent reader of Rainboots & Beef. (Emphasis placed by me on my favorite lines.)

"I am writing you as an 'inmate' not to be mistaken as a man from the Australian Queens land thats 'in' to things. That is the title I was given here when the statesmen of Panama City Florida imported me from my hermitude."

"I read your My Journey article and I find it fascinating that you would have your life at Evangel your life at Evangel to share with so many publications of public Evangel. I was lucky enough to receive the Sept. 13. 09 issue wherein I turned to page 20 and beheld the most refreshing portrayal of an Evean creature casting radiance through an overwhelming smile. The biblical book that lies before your image on page 20 is like the most enchanting experience I've befallen to myself."

"When I get to the top Satan will probably push me off like an hula hoop tycoon in the 30's. Luckily with the New Orleans insurance companys I will go strait through the safety net and enter heaven on my camel. I hope that my genie question isn't 'If you could take one thing to be stranded on a deserted island' and something like 'if you could be locked in a deserted cold war bunker what would you take' obviously it would be you and some grape cool-aid straight from the true purple vine."

"I'm not no snitch but I just seen my roommate stomp on a smiley face I drew for him in our confinement cell, don't tell nobody but I'm in prison ... well of physics only formally speaking.  "

"If you can look up some information for me, find out on Nasa's web site how far is it to the close 'black hole' and how much liquid oxygen and liquid hydrogen is selling for by the ton these days."

It's Kelly again...
I love getting letters from readers, but this is definitely my all-time favorite. (Please, try and top this!)

I think I'll go drink some purple kool-aid. I'm sure it will be a refreshing and most enchanting experience.