where everybody knows your name

so, i have some big news. huge actually.

I'M MOVING TO BOSTON!!! yep, teach for america agreed to transfer my acceptance to Boston and i'll be teaching in struggling schools there for the next two years. sure, the winters will be bitterly cold, but... i've loved boston since i was a wee child and always wanted to move there for a year or two, so... this will be perfect!

and i'll be back on the east coast, which is exciting for me, but i've been home for a few months, which makes my family happy. so yaaaay fenway park and paul revere and cheers. YAY BOSTON!

the war on terror is over - sooner than expected

During a press gaggle in Europe today, Hilary Clinton announced that the Obama Administration does not use or approve of the phrase "war on terror."

Foxnews reported:

"The phrase "war on terror" is widely disliked in Europe and elsewhere overseas, where even close U.S. allies suggested it was overly militaristic and perhaps counterproductive.

It is also now associated with a range of Bush-era policies such as harsh interrogation practices that Obama has pledged to abandon."

Hey, Hil, I have a question: WHAT should we call the war America has been fighting for the last five years?

how about: the heavily armed fight against people that label themselves as terrorists

or: the argument over democracy and freedom that results in a large number of deaths

oh hilary. you crack me up.

maybe if we stop using the term "war on terror" and call it "the not-so-peaceful actions taken to ensure americas safety"... the voters at home -and our allies in europe-will think the war has actually ended. i mean, it could work.

Shoot, if the president can get elected by saying he will withdraw troops from iraq and "end" the war overseas, and two less than seventy days into his administration announces that he is, in fact, deploying 4,000 additional troops to Afghanistan than certainly we can be okay with not calling this war on terror a war on terror. Are you having trouble following me? That's because this entire thing is absurd.

Tell me, oh Obama administration, just what are those 4,000 troops fighting? terror? so what should tell the troops families? how bout, your son died in the war on terror? or we could lie and say that their daughter/nephew/grandchild died at a tea party in afghanistan while we were politely discussing democracy with iraqis and afghanistanians and pakistanis.

maybe through my sarcasm you can't tell that i do, in fact, hate war. detest it. i wish we weren't over there. but wishing and pretending that its not happening is not the same as taking steps to actually end it.

changing the name, hilary, doesn't change the fact that our country is still at war. and your boss promised us, the general american public, that he would get us out of the war. not just refer to it as something a little less harsh and realistic.

http://www.foxnews.com/politics/first100days/2009/03/30/clinton-administration-stopped-using-war-terror-term/

happy birthday b!!!

my grandfather is turning SEVENTY years old tomorrow! happy birthday b!!



i don't know if he's ever actually driven cattle once in his life, but i always think of my grandfather as a sort of urban cowboy. he's been involved with the Houston Livestock Show since before I was even a thought on any one's minds. He wears a cowboy hat and boots with a swagger I'm sure would make John Wayne proud. I don't know where he learned it - he grew up in the middle of Houston, but he can tell you all about cattle, horses, and rodeo things.

I've been blessed to live in the same city as both sets of my grandparents for my entire life. Honey & B have spent countless hours attending my little league games, school plays, cheerleading stuff, and various other boring events.

B has always called me Sweet Pea, as long as I can remember. I think that if I ever win an Academy Award (obviously for best actress in the remake of Steel Magnolias) or find myself one day making political acceptance speeches, it won't be hard to ramble on about where I am in life because of my supportive family.

Most phone conversations with my grandfather end with "Give 'em hell, Sweet Pea" or "Stay outta trouble, sweet pea." Whatever I do, B is always proud of me. I think I could decide I was going to be a garbage collector or a street performer or a zookeeper and B would be proud. "If it makes you happy, babe, it makes me happy." I hope that I can love my grandkids as unconditionally as B (and Honey) have loved me.

I can't believe B is 70!!He likes to say that my grandmother won the lottery when she married him. Although he tends to tell politically incorrect jokes and gets mad if you talk loudly while the six o'clock news is on, it's not far from the truth. (Very few people on this planet could put up with my grandmother on a regular basis, but that's a story for another day.)

Happy Seventieth Birthday B!! Love you!!

when did people start calling bulletin boards "inspiration boards" ?

my most recent posts have been quite lengthy, so, tonight, i'm posting a few photos you might find on my bulletin board. not that you're interested, but...

haven't even seen the movie start to finish, but they crack me up.

and the soundtrack is awesome.

found this on someone's blog while i was working in d.c. doubtful if i would have been a part of the women's lib movement, but... definitely would have worn one of these hats.
roger maris. (mickey mantle on the right)
always, always, always swing for the fences. even if there are more popular people swinging for that same fence, and everyone is rooting for them and not you. swing anyway.

took this picture of the sunrise as our train passed from switzerland into italy. gotta love those too-good-to-be-true, pinch yourself moments.

and i'll leave you with a link to the youtube of the song "marvelous light" in case you feel the need to jam out.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0oA2ka7tnh8

JBA is gettin' HITCHED!! this post is a little late...

we talked about weddings alot during a 6 day hike in the wilderness of colorado on a young life trip - appropriately referred to as "wilderness." it was the summer before senior year of high school, and what else are you going to talk about while hiking for ten or twelve hours a day with heavy backpacks on? weddings, obviously. the dresses, the flowers, the songs, the bridesmaids, what you would dance with your dad to... OH and sometimes we talked about the groom, too.

now, jennifer is the bride! she has the groom! she's picking out the dress and talking to her parentals about details. how strange to think that one of my very best friends from high school days is GETTING MARRIED! jennifer lynne & jeff beitler are ENGAGED!!

that hiking trip feels like so long ago. i met jennifer baring at a freshman young life event when i was fourteen years old. we were both in the same skit that involved us... eating baby food. did i mention i had braces? awesome.

there are so many memories, too many to talk about here. double dates with high school boyfriends - did you ever see the movie tuck everlasting? i don't recommend it. hahaha.

i almost got us run over by an ambulance while driving to one of many, many jv football games to watch previously mentioned boys.

We called her JBA because it was similar to then-popular JLO. She is sweet, genuine, and one of those people that you find in life that you can't help smile when around them. she is funny, hilarious actually. my mom is obsessed with her ridiculously long eyelashes and has asked, on more than one occasion, what kind of mascara she wears. she always, always looks out for other people and my high school years were so blessed because i called her friend. we weren't as good as keeping in touch throughout college as we should of been, but life gets busy. i'm sure my kids will be bored to death when they listen to me talk about high school... "well, one time, jennifer and i...

smashed pumpkins in rival high school's front yards,

drag-raced with boys we didn't know on memorial drive,

sang mary chapin carpenter's "passionate kisses" at the top of our lungs,

we choreographed many dances together, some as a class assignment and some not,

we terrorized substitute teachers (good morning class, this is donna powell),

and sat together as the events of september 11th unfolded in coach kemble's class.

one of my favorite "iffer" memories is when she and jeff pretended to be "robbers" breaking into our house while my mom and i panicked and argued about the best escape route while hiding in our kitchen. (my mom thought it would be brilliant to hide in our pantry because it had a lock on the inside.) anyways, they thought they were hilarious and we were ready to have them

taken into custody by the SWAT team.

now these two jokesters are getting married. what is the world coming to??

yaaaaay for having friends like jennifer in high school. and yaaaaaay for marriage. JENNIFER BARING AND JEFF BEITLER -it must be noted that every time i see him i laugh so hard real tears come out of my eyes- are getting married!! wooo hoooooo happy day!!

my thomas jefferson, my john adams

not sure these two could have written the declaration of independce, but if i were george washington, they would be my thomas jefferson and my john adams for sure. (aka best friends for life) maybe one of them will marry someone named abigail, who knows.

i knew i was going to miss the district of columbia. i also knew that i could never go wrong by coming back to the lone star state. i don't regret leaving dc and i'm so ready for teaching to start. however: i miss the people that are still in d.c. i don't know why they didn't all follow me here.

probably the most important thing in the world, i have slowly realized while growing up, is friendship. though i am, at times, bad at keeping in touch with friends who are scattered over the place, or even those that share Houston as our current city of residence, friends make such a difference in my level of happiness.

i have always had a great family. very supportive, lots of fun, always...what's the word? colorful. but family has a connotation to it; they're required to love you. friends, well...they don't have to put up with the quirky accents, the movie quoting, the extremely long stories, the inability to control the volume of my voice.

i met or grew closer to people in the district who made my days bright and my life full of sunshine. i shared a wall with a really cool girl and we developed a morse code to communicate.

two months is too long for snail mail correspondence ala thomas jefferson and john adams. (they spent the last ten years of their lives writing letters to each other, discussing all sorts of things. mainly the same thing i mail katherine & caitlin & others letters about: the wonder of democracy, the state of the union, how we can prevent alexander hamiliton from nationalizing banks.)

well, the days of gchat and phonetags are over. its finally time for a rendezvous. i wish M.A. was coming in my suitcase. gosh i can't wait to see these faces!

Riccola men do exist...and other things I learned in Europa

1.) wild swans are freaking awesome. and aerodynamic. beautiful white swans covered the lake, swimming and diving and sometimes pulling back their wings to be extra fast - renza referred to it as their "aerodynamic"ness.

2.) i'm kind of obsessed with covered wooden bridges, old school church clock towers, and all things german. similar to my obsession with nutella, i just have a genuine fondness, appreciation, and love for the town of lucerne. its wonderful wooden bridges, cobblestone streets, and mountain views - it was lovely in winter. i've heard all the seasons are equally great. if you ever get a chance to go, i highly recommend it.

3.) the hills are alive with the sound of music. it took my breath away to be in the swiss alps - to take in their beauty and majesticness and know that God thinks we are more valuable than those mountains. i don't think i'll ever grasp it. being around such beauty is so easy to see God and know that he created all of the world.

4.) As soon as i'm married or in love or maybe just dating someone, we're going to europe asap so we can make out on every bridge and street corner. The European culture calls for such affection - young or old, pretty people and messy people, they don't hide it. I'm not saying I wish America was like that, I think I would throw up if all of our bridges and streets had people making out on them in broad daylight. But, it will be fun to visit and join in this tradition.

5.) Ricola men actually do exist. Absolutely made our day.

6.) European children are extremely cute. Especially when bundled for cold weather and talking in German. I really like little kids. I really like accents. Therefore, the fact that I did not kidnap any cute little kiddos with cute little accents is a miracle. But I did befriend two brothers at the top of the mountain in Lucerne. I taught them to say "yaaaay" while throwing snow balls. I'll tell you more later.

7.) Beer isn't completely awful. Well, that's a little drastic of me to say; I take it back. But I did drink a wheat beer (das bier) and I didn't hate it. It was brewed on the site at Das Rathaus, a really old brewery/restaurant in a building right on the lake built in the 1680s. (give or take a few years)

8.) Some art is... trash. We went to the Pablo Picasso museum and some of it was great - they have a lot of cool picassos and a photo exhibit of some of his life. But in the basement (first clue was that it was the basement) is some ... stuff. Squares on canvasses, weird things, blotches of color. Renza and I wondered - who declares what is art that belongs in a museum and what is art that belongs in the trashbin? Because, some of this stuff, if I had copied it and given it to my parents as a Christmas gift, they would have said "what the crud is this?" and shoved it in a closet somewhere. Or, Renza eloquently added, used it as tissue paper. We decided that we should all, as individuals, create our own definition of art. Just because its in a museum doesn't mean its beautiful. Or noteworthy. And just because its not in a museum doesn't mean it's not noteworthy. Or beautiful. Okay, I'm off my soapbox.

9.) I want a cabin on a lake in Switzerland with a pony. Or a man that has all these things. I came to this conclusion as we watched the sunrise over the Alps on Sunday, leaving Lucerne bound for Italy. We passed dozens of cute little cabins and the lake was so pretty. I'm not asking for a mansion and a herd of thoroughbreds, people. I'm being quite reasonable, really.

10.) Poverty is everywhere and always heartbreaking. Okay, I'll stop whining about wanting a cabin and a horse. We saw so many beggars - in train stations, outside of chapels, on the bridges in Venice. It is hard for me to know - should we drop some Euros in each beggar's cap? Or does that make the situation worse? I know we are called to be compassionate, to feed the hungry and clothe the poor, but... are we hurting them by giving them money, if they're going to buy alcohol or do bad things with the money? Or do I just use that as an excuse as I walk away, but really we should stop and help them, love them? I wish I knew the answer. Maybe I do and I just don't want to admit it.

11.) Renza will wake you from deep slumber on the train and say "COURTNEY! THE POLICE!" loudly in your ear when she is nervous. This really happened, early morning in Italy. I gasped, looking around. Ugh, what's going on?? I was still half asleep.

"The police! See them - they just walked past us. They're checking passports."

"Oh, I'm glad you woke me up, so that we can be on alert. As if we are illegals and don't have passports or something. Sheesh."

12.) Sometimes I'm not very pleasant in the wee hours of morning or while I'm waking up from a nap. Actually, I already knew that. My family alerts my attention to this quite frequently.

"there goes the baker with his tray like always"

i owe renza an apology. for a lot of things, i'm sure, but definitely for singing "bonjour" from beauty & beast nonstop. i couldn't help it. we were in france, for goodness sake. but i should have learned the words. instead, i would sing..."there goes the baker, with his new umbrella" because that fit the tune. which i do know, at least. i know the tune. and the most important word: bonjour.

the tower, my first night in pari. it was glorious, not too cold, i wasn't quite delirious from jetlag (yet) and i was in... paris!! the city of light, the city in all the movies, the city of...


well, it was great to be there, i'm glad to have seen it and i do love parts of it, but...all in all, i think once in paris was enough. unless someone pays me, or someone i really love is wants me to go with them, i think i saw enough of it. bonjour, pari. au revoir, pari.

don't get me wrong. i had a great time. any city in europe, any time with renza, is a great time.

our first night, we went to this restaurant, where one chef - phillipe - is the waiter, maitre'd, bartender, and chef. it was delicious and so funny (the restaurant only seats 22 people) and he called renza and i his girlfriends and invited us behind the counter. (unprovoked, i promise)

saint chapelle, on our second try to get in, was lovely. so awesome. i can't beleive that for so many generations kings and queens actually believed that they were better than other people and that God was telling them they were above the peasants. but their chapel was beautiful - this is from the david and goliath sequence. have i told you about renza's dual personalities yet? okay. i didn't quite figure it out til switzerland, but in france AND switzerland, renza and i would have short conversations that she wouldn't remember later. i assumed she was awake, because she was TALKING, but she never recalled the convos.

for example, while she was sleeping, i got up from our "rest time" when we arrived in switzerland and was going to walk by the river. i asked renza if she wanted to come, and she said she was too tired and "in for the night." but it was 7 p.m. and i knew i wouldn't sleep through the night, and i told her this. "its okay, i could sleep til tomorrow for sure." so i got dressed to go. as i was leaving her a note, she woke up.

"where are you going?" she wanted to know.

"to explore down by the river, i'll be back in probably an hour."

"what? no! i wanna come! i'm ready! i'm ready!"

"um, you just told me less than 10 minutes ago that you wanted to sleep."

"what? no i did not! what are you talking about? i'm up! i'm ready! let's goooo switzerland!"

a similiar situation occured in paris. and two days in a row in swiss. so then it dawned on me... there were two of her. "ren" who likes to sleep, and rest. understandable, that's fine. but there's a time for play. enter "za." she likes to jazz it up, full speed ahead, va va voom, you get the picture. i love "ren" and "za" equally, there's a time for rest and a time for napping. i'm just glad i figured this out early on so that i could talk to "ren" and "za" at the appropiate times.

this is renza, both personalities present. we're in the great hall at the opera house, which was beautiful and huuuuge. its the place that inspired "the phantom of the opera." its inspiring.

we had lunch at this place...we speak no french. they spoke no english. but the decorations were cute.
montemart is a sketchy area, fo sho. renza and i practically ran away from creepsters boozin' it up on the steps of the basilica. which is beautiful on the inside, and really cool.

that's paris in a nutshell.

oh, gosh, i almost forgot. parisian men like to make weird noises to let you know they think you're attractive, interesting, something. We were meowed out. Literally, a dude meowed at each of us. And someone else made burping noises and then whistled and said something in french. We laughed a lot in Paris. We strolled by the river, we drank a little wine, (renza actually broke the pitcher at our restaurant. we tried to find jazz but settled for street parties and nutella crepes instead. we ate a lot of bread. we climbed to the top of the Arc D' Triumphe and rode to the top of the Eiffel.

It was a great city to kickstart the trip, and... the accents. Oh, the accents. You cannot exaggerate the French accent enough, what with the "viola!" here and the "excuse e moi" there and the "bonjour!" every five seconds. I thank Gustave Eiffell for the Tower, which I loved, and the city of Paris, for the memories, all of which I also love.

Bonsour, good night, dear reader. and, of course, merci beacoup.

Ciao Bella (at least for now)

Well, the Renza-Courtney duo is over, for now. We survived 14 days without killing each other - three meals a day just the two of us, many a shared train ride, countless times fighting for sink privileges while brushing our teeth together.

You learn so much about another while traveling - their passions for history, foods, their thoughts on cultures, politics, religion; the way they handle crises or stress.

Renza is a wonderful friend; one I will have for life, and I hate that I felt so crappy with a cough our last 24 hours together. By the end of the trip, we had been asked if we were sisters - on two separate occasions. In reality we have numerous differences, in addition to our looks...

Sometimes nervous or laid back, on time or always late, conservative or liberal, bilingual or simple-tongued, herbivore or carnivore, to name a few. But we share so much.

Our faith, our love for adventures and traveling, our sense of independence in this world, our deep dependence on our families, the Camp-Longhorn shaped holes on our hearts. I owe Tex Robertson, my family, and good ole Jesus for crossing our paths and aligning our personalities to become such wonderful friends.

It never occurred to me before this trip that I cannot pinpoint when Renza and I became friends. What caused us, at age 13, to become buds? I have no idea. I know we were good at keeping in touch during the school year with letters and occasional phone calls from Oklahoma to Tejas. Then we visited each other our senior year of high school and stayed devoted to Camp Longhorn as counselors and time together for the next five summers.

I love airports. I had at least twenty solo flights during 2008, but I don't find airports lonely because I love being able to people watch in solitary anonymity. However, my fifteen minutes of solitude in the Rome airport were some of the loneliest I'd had in a long time. Renza, my traveling counterpart, my map, my guru of all things European, had gone to her own gate to board a plane bound for Madrid.

It was a spectacular two weeks, one for the record books. There is absolutely no space in any of Renza's three bags, all busting at the zipper seams. But even so, I find myself wishing I was shoved in amidst her clothes, wine, and new leather jacket. I find myself wishing that this trip wasn't over.

Until next time, Renza, I leave you with the words of Truman Capote:
I miss you already. Write me every five minutes.

don't drink the tapwater... and other things i learned in europa

well, let's all just take a moment to laugh at courtney. rick steves says its okay to drink tap water in western european countries. it didn't taste bad to me and it wasn't mexico, so... if i was out of bottled water, i'd refill the trusty nalgene with the stuff from the sink. nope, i didn't just swallow a few sips. i drank buckets of the stuff.

apparently experts will tell you that drinking tap water in a foriegn country isn't smart unless you're going to be there for very extended periods of time and your body will adjust to the new bacteria. if you have a weird thyroid disease like me, however, you should just never drink unfiltered tap water because your body won't fight any infectious bacteria.

did i forget i had this thyroid condition? no, i'm just not the brightest crayon in the box. but i'm paying for it now! i won't give you any details, but in addition to a hacking cough, i'm pretty much existing on crackers and gatorade. and avoiding tap water at all costs.

they say this could continue on for a week or more, you just have to let the bugs run their course. but i'm going to thank my lucky stars (and the good man upstairs) that this happened at a point in my life when i'm not rushing back to a real job immediately. and living at home under the care of nurse cathy ain't too shabby.

if it didn't hurt so much, i'd laugh out loud at myself right now. so feel free to join in. gosh! what an idiot.

in other news, i wrote a nice recap of my time with renza in my handydandy (who really says handydandy anymore these days? its time we brought it back) journal on the airplane from roma to paris. but i think ill save that for later. all in all, we had a wonderful, awesome, supercalifragilistic time and can't believe the whole thing happened! pics & more stories to come!