Back Home Again in Indiana

I am currently sitting in a hotel in Upland, Indiana.  I drove a group of students north for a conference at Taylor University.  While the students are staying in the residence halls making new friends and enjoying a concert, I get to sit in my sweatpants and watch NBC comedies.  It's awesome.  Also awesome, I am less than 90 miles from my home.

I love home.  The word itself is a great thing.  It means comfort, familiarity, family, friends, and all kinds of other wonderful goodness.  90 miles might sound like a lot, but compared to 450 - it's not too bad.  Weather permitting, my dad is driving up to have lunch with me tomorrow.  I could write a series of books on how wonderful my dad is, this is just another example.  90 miles to have lunch with me is like driving down the street for him.  I am so excited to see him.

I won't actually get to be at home during this trip, but just being in the vicinity is good for me.  It's not like I am from this magical place.  It's Indiana - no mountains, beach, major metropolitan city (although I learned last week Indianapolis is the largest city without a major water way), but it's my home.  I finally got a Tennessee driver's license this week, and it just made me sad.  I have lived in Tennessee officially for a year and a half, and the previous four years as an undergrad.  Tennessee has it's perks - sweet tea, Pal's, Milligan College and the mountains aren't half bad.  But it's not home.

Maybe that's the beauty of home.  It will always be there, a place to go back to, and to be from.  Or maybe that's what I get for living in the same house since I was in 1st grade and growing up surrounded by wonderful people.  Either way, I'll take it.  In the meantime, I will proudly wear my IU sweatshirt and enjoy the Indiana references on Parks and Recreation.

Toy Story 3 And How It Melted My Heart of Ice

I am not a crier. That is not stay I don't ever cry, but it takes a lot for me to get there.  Sad movies - I can watch them all day long.  Titanic, The Notebook, P.S. I Love You - didn't shed a tear.  There have been  a few movies that have gotten to me Forrest Gump ("He's so smart Jenny." used to get me every time), Up, and against my will but I shed some tears in Marley and Me.  But really I'm not a crier.  And even more so, not a sad crier but a stressed and angry crier.

That all changed this afternoon.  It actually started last night when I stated watching Toy Story 3.  I fell asleep about an hour into it.  This has no reflection on the movie, just the fact that whenever I lay down on my couch I tend to fall asleep.  I decided to watch the rest of the movie during lunch.  Now I had warning - but I didn't heed it.  Everyone I talked to who saw this movie said they cried - everyone.  I didn't believe them - I'm the same way with winter weather reports for some reason.  Oh how I was wrong.

I don't want to spoil the ending for anyone, so if you haven't seen it skip to the next paragraph.  Let's say I teared up when the toys started holding hands in the incinerator and didn't stop crying until the credits. That's 20 minutes of crying.  I had to pause the movie to go get kleenex and blow my nose.  It was out of control. Don't even get me started about Andy introducing all of the toys to Bonnie.

There was not a specific toy in my life that I treasured more than anything else.  I did really love the karaoke machine I got for my birthday one year.  My childhood loyalty was with a blanket - Raggedy Ann.  The story goes that my grandmother made it for my older sister so she could lay on the blanket and play with me.  The front was a red and white squares, and the back was hand embroidered scenes that wore off a long time ago. Sara never took a liking to Raggedy, but I did.  I sleep, I mean slept with Raggedy every night, lounged with her around the house and stood in front of the washer and dryer when my parents took her away from me to be cleaned.  I don't think my attachment to Raggedy was unhealthy, I left her at home during the day and wasn't weird about it (or so I choose to believe).  

When I was in elementary school my mom snuck a book into our monthly book order.  The book is titled Owen by Kevin Henkes.  Don't let the Caldecott Honor fool you - this is a horrible book.  It is about a mouse who has a blanket and is headed off to school.  So his parents cut up his blanket into squares so he could use one as a kleenex, a wash cloth, keep one at home and take one to school.  After I read the book once I told my mom I was onto her and she wasn't touching Raggedy.  She always joked she would sew her into my wedding gown.

I understand there being something almost magical about those favorite childhood things.  No matter what laundry detergent Raggedy was washed in she always smelled the same.  She always made me feel better.  There was many an evening when one of my parents would say, "go get Raggedy and I'll hold you."  That still sounds like a great offer to me.

I looked through several pictures to find a good one of Raggedy - she can be seen in the background of many.  This one captured one of those lounging moments, and no I don't always cringe when my sister hugs me.