"Kansas City, Here I Come."

A picture-filled blog, for your viewing pleasure. 

Our first stop after I de-planed. 

Remember how in my last post, I said I wanted to take a pic at the Kansas / Missouri border. This is it. (The border is a river). 

It was fantastic. 

A few glasses of wine and some bread pudding at a wine bar. 

We got soo lucky with the weather. 

Such a cool photo. Thanks, Ray. 

Kansas City's Power and Light District. The coolest thing about this city. In the middle of the city, there is a collection of restaurant, bars, and clubs. At night, they close it off to anyone not 21, put a DJ in the middle, and it's a drinking / partying / dancing free-for-all. Prime people watching locale. 

Oh, and you can take your drinks and walk around with them. Which is exactly what I did. With wine. Of course. 

By the way, did you know that in Kansas they raise Christmas trees? Here's little baby Christmas trees that will soon be crammed into your homes and adorned with colorful things. 

See? You learn something new everyday.

"It's a Weekend of Firsts."

One: I’ll be flying Southwest Airlines for the first time.

I know this is kind of lame, but I’ve never flown Southwest and I’ve always wanted to. (I dream big, people). Whenever Ray and I travel, we tend to end up on Delta flights. But, because of where I’m going, I get to fly Southwest.

Two: I’m going to Kansas / Missouri.*

I’ll be there tonight! Some people may think, “Oh, you’re going to Kansas City … neat.” But Ray is there and, even though it’ll be a short trip, I know it’s going to be tons of fun, and just what the two of us need after a month apart.

Three: The HUUUUUUUNGER GAAAMES.

(You have to say it like that.)

We bought tickets early. 

We bought t-shirts to wear to the movie. 

And, last night, when I was packing for my trip, I Googled “what color are mockingjays?” 

Here’s my thought process:

Mockingjays = Birds

Bird = Feathers

I should wear a pair of feather earrings to the movie!!

(By the way, the jury is still out on the color of mockingjays’ feathers. Some say black and white and some say silver-ish. I packed the black pair.)

Anyway, I’m so excited for the weekend. It’s going to be 48 blissful hours.

*Technically, Ray lives in Kansas, but it’s painfully close to Missouri so we’ll be splitting our time between the two. Ray doesn’t know it yet, but I want to be all “Walk to Remember”-esque and put one foot in each state and be in two places at once.

I'll let you know how it goes. Have a good weekend everyone!

"I'm Trying Something New."

Beginning of this year, I read Mindy Kaling’s memoir. (If you haven’t read it and are in need of an entertaining, light read, I definitely suggest it.)

In her book, Mindy (I call her Mindy because I feel that we could be friends if I lived in LA, or if she lived in central Texas) talks about how stress should never be a “legitimate topic of conversation” because it’s nothing extraordinary. That is, everyone is stressed out, so why do we ever utter the phrase, “oh my goodness, I am soooo stressed right now?”

She goes on to say that she will never say this phrase, just like she will never latch on to the idea of “me time.”

Now, I totally get the stress thing. But, man, I love me some “Jonna time.” Love it. Can’t get enough. I just feel better when I spend some time alone. I love my friends, I love Ray, and I love spending time with people that I care about and have fun with. But, I also can (and do) enjoy spending hours on my couch / bed / living room floor doing things that can only be described as “Jonna time.” It includes, but is not limited to: nail painting, Survivor, and eating a meal of Doritos, fruit roll-ups, and Sweet Leaf green tea, straight from the jug of course.

But, there’s something I’ve wanted to try for like, a really long time. I’ve been wanting to go to a restaurant alone, eat alone, maybe drink alone, and enjoy my own company, alone. It’s something I’ve termed a “Jonna Date.”

I know it seems kind of weird. And, it seems like it would be incredibly uncomfortable. But before you form your opinion, let me paint you a picture of the very first “Jonna Date.”

Wednesday afternoon, I get off work at 5 and head to this place called Tre Trattoria. Ray and I had been once before and I had been itching to go again. Well, let me tell you, this place is as dead as a doornail at 5:20ish on a Wednesday afternoon. When I walked in, I was compelled to ask the hostess if they were even open.

I let her know that I was just going to mosey on over to their bar and proudly walked over. There are no chairs or barstools at the bar, so I had no choice but to sit at a little high-top table, which intended for four people. One of the chefs was milling around and asked me if I was “meeting some friends.” “Nope, it’s just me!” I respond, a little too eagerly. I talked to the bartender and ordered a glass of wine and then ran back to my car to get my nook. See, I figured that the “Jonna Date” maybe would include some light reading.

Well, I sat there, played on my phone, read a little David Sedaris, and small talked with the bartender.

How was the “Jonna Date,” you ask?

It was good.

I stayed there for about 2 hours, read a couple chapters of my book, and even ordered a pizza. (It was delicious, by the way). The whole experience was kind of liberating. Liberating in the “I-did-something-I-don’t-usually-do-and-I-feel-awesome-because-I-stepped-out-of-my-comfort-zone” way.

It was also a little strange, I won’t lie. It definitely crossed my mind that some of the servers and the other patrons may have been judging me. This feeling was hard to fend off when one of my ex-grad school peers walked in and saw me, at my four-top table. Ridin’ solo. Drinkin’ away. We small talked for a few minutes until he went to meet up with his friend. (My wine intake may have been accelerated at this point, just saying).

Will I do it again, you ask?

Probably.

I think it’s nice to do things that you don’t usually do. It breaks up the monotony that can become a constant in our lives. And, if you know me at all, you know that I am a creature of habit. A solo happy hour is about as wild as things get in my neck of the woods.

"Don't Talk About It, Be About It."

Intrinsically, I feel like I am a good friend. Dependable. Good listener. Full of comic relief and silver linings.

But, I also know that I’m not perfect. Among many things, I hate confrontation. It is one of the hardest things to do with someone you love and care about, in my opinion. I usually cannot summon the nerve to look someone in the eye and tell them exactly how I feel.

It makes my tummy feel weird. It makes me lose my appetite. It makes me perspire.

And, to avoid confrontation or un-fun situations, I’ll lie (via commission or omission) to soften the blow.

And boy, does that cause its share of complications and messiness. Definitely lost a few friendships after the dust settled.

But, here’s something else I know. Forgiveness is tough. It takes time. It doesn’t come without discomfort. (Cue the weird tummy feelings and the sweating.) But it is doable, with one contingency. Both parties cannot just say they forgive. The members of the duo have to actively go out and work on their relationship. They have to work the relationship back into a good place.

In short, “don’t talk about it, be about it.”

On the list of things I don’t care for, surprises rank near confrontation. I don’t do well with the unexpected. So imagine how I felt when an ex-friend of mine called me to tell me that she “forgave me.” She let me know that she has decided to “let go of all of the hurt and pain” she felt because of me. Gee thanks.

I stammered and stuttered throughout the brief phone call saying things like “umm, well, I, uh, appreciate that.” I also asked, “so does that mean that we are, like, friends again?” Her answer? An abrupt, “no, I don’t think we can be.” Gee thanks, again.

I thought long and hard about why someone would call an individual tell them that they forgive them, but not want to pursue any sort of relationship. There are obvious religious undertones there. Forgiveness, loving thy neighbor, all that jazz.

But, ultimately, I think, it helps the caller feel better. It makes their heart a little lighter. It allows them to regain some control and some presence in your life.

And, I think that is a teensy bit, dare I say it – selfish. Here’s why.

I never advocated for a termination of the friendship. I boldly and optimistically believed that we could be friends even in the face of our tribulations. But she didn’t. She presented me with (what I believed to be) an ultimatum. And, I believe that because I didn’t choose her preference, she chose to walk away, leaving me to do the best with what I have.

The selfishness comes into plan when she reenters my life out of the blue to let me know how she felt, which is whatever. But she did not leave a lot of wiggle room for me to respond or counter. And, I know she did so because it made her feel good. But, it threw me for an unexpected curve. If I’m being blunt, I don’t think you get to waltz into my life, at your discretion, tell me you forgive me (for something that I don’t think was that bad), remind me of your hurt and pain (that I caused), and leave. It’s just not cool and not fair.

True forgiveness is an action. It involves not just saying something, but doing something. I could say I forgive lots of people who have wronged me but, unless I’m making moves toward remedying that bond, what’s the point?

Remember people, forgiveness is something you do, not something you say.

Forgive if you want. Hold on to your anger if you want. It's your call.

But don’t just talk about it. Be about it.

“I’m Back on the Glowing Green Smoothie Train"

What does that even mean?


It means that Ray has been here for 3 weeks, which is amazing (and rare).

It means that I have taken this as an excuse to be a big slacker for 3 weeks, which is not amazing (but pretty common).


Slacker = No Yoga and Lots of Queso, Grease, Sodas, and Alcohol.

I could blame my utter laziness and sloth-like behavior on The Color Run …

… Or our trip to New Orleans* …

… Or days and night spent on the couch emptying my DVR with this nearby …

… But, I won’t.

I’ll just vow to be better. I will work out more. I will resist my never-ending fast food cravings. I will drink more water to prevent all-day wine hangovers.


Happy Thursday everyone! 




*Hopefully, Ray will post the pictures from our trip to NOLA soooometime this century. I'm overdue for a new profile pic!!

"Chicken and Broccoli Lasagna is Soo Freakin' Good!"

Now, I don’t want to speak for Ray but Ray doesn’t like Valentine’s Day. I know, cliché. But true. Like most others, Ray thinks that the 14^th of February is silly. When Ray is here, we do stuff all the time. We make dinner and we go out. We drink wine (Ray drinks beers). We buy presents for holidays and occasions and just because we can.

So consequently, when mid-February comes around, Ray whines and groans and says, “do you really want to do something or what?” And the lame girl inside screams, “YESSS! Let’s get dressed cute and go to dinner and spend to much and get champagne and a rich, chocolatey dessert!!” But, the cool girl actually says, “Psh, V-Day is sooo lame. Let’s just do whatev.”

But, one Valentine’s, our first Valentine’s we were sooo cute. It was sickening to watch. We went to HEB, we bought all of these groceries* and we made an original dish. I have fond memories of us not knowing what we were doing, scared it was going to be gross and we’d end up having to order a pizza, and patiently waiting for it to be done. It was all very cute.

Here’s what we made:

Chicken and Broccoli Lasagna.

It. Is. Amazing.

It’s so good.

Kind of life-changing.

Here’s what you’ll need:

The only thing not pictured is the mozzarella cheese.

Before I go any further, let me start by saying all photo credits should go to Ray. I was teaching my night class and Ray was nice enough to make the dish and take pictures of the whole process for my blog.**

Start by cooking your lasagna, grilling your chicken, and cooking your broccoli. The key to this dish being tasty is seasoning! Ray bought the pesto, pre-seasoned HEB chicken and added my beloved Garlic Herb Mrs. Dash to the broccoli.

Then, put your ricotta into a bowl and throw some seasoning in there. Knowing Ray it was some mix of all the different seasonings I have. From the picture, I know there was the Mrs. Dash, garlic powder, garlic salt. But, you can also add some parsley, basil, oregano if you want. Of course, mix in some salt and pepper. 

Then grease your glass baking dish. I think the dimensions of this pan are 10 x 16, but don’t quote me on that.  

Next you’re going to want to follow this order precisely. The magic is in the order (and the seasoning):

Pasta …

... Ricotta ... 

... Broccoli ... 

 ... Chicken ... 

 ... Cheese ... 

... Alfredo Sauce (be generous) ... 

... and repeat. You'll want to repeat this 2-3 times, so make sure to ration the ingredients. 

End with a layer of pasta with some cheese on top. Bake at 350 until the cheese on the top is golden (and a little bubbly. 

Then, dive in. Add a small salad for balance and enjoy. Bon Appetit! 

* In addition to the groceries we bought, we bought wine. I was a young, immature wine drinker back then so I'm pretty sure it was moscato. I'm kind of ashamed ... 

** I'd never live it down if I didn't give Ray props for the pics. 

*** Ray had a helper / eager scrap eater throughout the entire cooking extravaganza. Gotta love Paisley! 

Keep Hold of Your "You"

I have this friend named Dana. I am a little jealous of Dana because she has a way of putting together phrases, and sentences, and paragraphs in a way I don’t ever feel like I could. She is a gifted writer and has a way of communicating her point of view with just enough information so you get her point, but not so much information that you can’t see yourself in her writing and develop your own interpretation from it.

Well, Dana wrote this post on her blog. And, I loved it. (Proof of Love = Retweet). Here’s the meaning that I gleaned from her post:

Every single person in your life has their own interpretation of “you,” and there is nothing wrong with that. It’s not good or bad. It just is. But you have your own belief and interpretation of the “you” that you are. And, you have a responsibility to yourself to maintain the “you” that you believe you are, no matter what.
But, it becomes difficult when the “you” that you believe you are strays from the “you” that others believe you to be. So, what do you do?

You let them be. You allow them to hold on to what they believe you are, because it works for them. You, on the other hand, must hold on to your “authenticity.”


I think she couldn’t be more right. If you believe in you, and all that you are there is … there’s no shame in your game. You continue to be you, even though it’s hard.

Personally speaking, I have had instances where I’ve thought that it would be so much easier to just give in and match a person’s version of me.

I mean, think about it. We, as a society, don’t like change. Similarly, as communicative beings, we like organizational patterns. They help us perceive all that happens in the world around us quickly and efficiently. So, when we evolve the version of ourselves and this version no longer matches the pattern that others are used to following, it causes struggle and tumult, and it strains relationships.

So, what do you do when your "you" is causing chaos in your life?

You keep your feet firmly planted in your truth.

You stick to your convictions.

You listen to your gut.

If you can stay connected and in tune with your “you,” through every inevitable evolution of yourself, it is only a matter of time before those that matter will start to change their expectations and begin to love and value and appreciate you, for all that you are.