I'm baaaaaaack...just in time for June's Share Four Somethings

Although I'm slightly whiplashed by how quickly June flew by after the past 16 months' trademark molasses-speed, I’m thrilled to (finally) jump back in the blogosphere and to (finally) rejoin my friend Heather's fun Share Four Somethings blog link-up. 

Something Loved

Michael and I took our first post-pandemic road trip this month! It was just a few hours south to our former city of Baton Rouge, but man, was it good for the soul. We caught up with great friends, ate and drank and were merry, and did lots of reminiscing in the place we individually and collectively called home for so long. Aside from the bottle of water I spilled directly into Michael's lap about 1/3 of the drive down, the whole weekend was packed with charmed memories. #pray4michael    

Something Read or Said

In an effort to come out of a reading slump that only chick lit can pull me out of, I broke down and delved into Beach Read by Emily Henry. What a pleasant surprise! I think I was expecting it to be super light -- you know, like an actual beach read? -- but in truth, it included some deep topics that made me think. Because they were presented smoothly and with humor, I didn't feel like I was being jolted into Actual Serious Thinking. But tricky Emily Henry! I was still pondering some of the Serious Topics once I closed it, and I was pondering them with a smile. 10/10 recommend.

Something Treasured

Early in the month, we fully experienced "one man's trash is another man's treasure" by participating in our neighborhood's annual yard sale. Even though the weather freely handed out thunderstorms followed by intense humidity, it was nice to be part of a group effort while cleaning out and making a little cash. One of my favorite things about it, though, was combining efforts with our neighbors (and friends and COVID bubble crew). Not only did we score a cool piece of pottery that Maggie was ready to part with, we also logged a ton of laughs and great memories.  

Something Ahead

Next month, I'll transition from my current job as Assistant Director of Communications with the LSMSA Foundation to Senior External Affairs Officer with the school itself. It's a bigger Something Ahead than I anticipated, and like most changes, it's bittersweet, but I am excited to have been offered the opportunity to get the word out about all the great things that are happening at Louisiana School! 

Your Turn

Visit Heather's blog for instructions on how to join the Share Four Somethings link up. 

Smooth Move: Tips to Make Moving Bearable

Most of my IRL peeps are aware that we recently moved. Again. (Whoever's counting and guessed that we have moved to 3 houses in 4 years of marriage, you win! And whoever counted about 7 extra "mini" moves -- HA -- after our house flooded, you win extra credit.)

That said, even after all.these.moves, I still find myself asking for advice when a big one comes along. And thankfully, I have a tight group of ~500 online friends who have been with me through thick and thin AND who are willing to share a wide variety of wisdom in any circumstance you can imagine. I realized it would be selfish to hoard the great tips I got this go-round, so if you're looking at a move, whether close or far away, I hope these tips from real life friends of mine will help make your life a little easier.

(Please note that I sadly did not follow all of these helpful hints -- much to my family's collective chagrin -- but I hope that if the unexpected, unlikely day ever comes for us to move yet again, I will check this post before proceeding.)

These are categorized by topic and phase, but we'll start with the one piece of advice that everyone yelled unanimously: PURGE.

But I love my STUFF! (Stop it. Purge, purge and purge some more.)
- Moving is the best time to get ride of stuff you don’t use/need/like anymore whatever the case.
- It feels so good to go through everything. Marie Kondo the hell out of it!
- If it doesn't break your heart to get rid of it - throw it away!
- We got rid of half of our belongings before moving cross-country. The only thing I regret is not letting go of more. I did sell a ton through multiple avenues and the extra $ came in handy.
- Garbage!!! Trash and Marie Kondo the shiz out of whatever you don't need! It's refreshing.
- Purging gives you a good grasp on what you have and what you’ll need for your new place.

No really, I promise, I'll start packing tonight.
- If you pack yourself, don’t do any of that “just throw it in the moving truck” stuff. Don’t leave ANYTHING LOOSE. We buy plastic tubs (and have used them and used them and used them!) so that everything stacks nicely and is organized. Our friends love to help us move because it’s all packed up.
- Buy good boxes and packing materials (Home Depot, U-Haul, etc) and pack yourself, but hire movers!
- Craigslist for free/cheap moving boxes. If you're using a moving company, they may offer used boxes for free as well.
- U-Haul often has used boxes at their locations for free.
- Use your bedding/towels/potholders etc to pack. Free packing materials and your taking it with you anyhow.

We have a lot of stuff. Like, a LOT. Are we really gonna move all this?!
- HIRE MOVERS. It’s one thing to move down the road, it’s another to move a few hours away. Plus moving in the heat just sucks and it will not help you win friends. Y’all don’t have a lot of stuff so the moving costs should be minimal.
- Get boxes that are a uniform size. It makes stacking and sticking boxes in the moving truck a lot easier. Also, no shame in hiring somebody to move you. Also, wine and coffee are wonderful.
- For the love of everything, label EVERY BOX or bin. Even if it just says “kitchen” it will help you. - U-Haul has something called U-Haul help. You can hire movers to load and unload your truck. Well worth the money and way cheaper than bids from actual moving companies. We’ve used them as have our family members and it was awesome. You save but still have help.
- U-haul. Just U-haul. They have the best boxes (including wardrobe boxes which are the best thing ever invented imo). Plus they buy back unused boxes. And they have bags to put your mattress and box springs in so they don’t get dirty. And tv bags and just all. The. Things.
- If you label your stuff I’d suggest writing what’s actually in the box. Not kitchen stuff, but kitchen stuff (spoons, cups, forks).
* rebekah's note: a tip we could have used given it took 2 weeks to find real utensils
- PAY SOME MOVERS
- Hire a moving company.
- We packed ourselves but we did hire movers to come and load the whole house.
- Find movers someone you know has used before and liked. Some are less careful than others.

I've packed up my life and I'm losing.my.mind.
- We decided to store packed boxes in the garage so they weren't taking over the house, so the day the movers arrived all the boxes were in the garage and all the furniture was in the house.

The moving truck is full. Both cars are full. Buckling my seatbelt set off a can of Lysol. Will I ever find anything when we get ther?!
- In your vehicles, pack a suitcase with a couple of sets of clothes and a trash can with cleaning supplies in it.
- Take your laundry basket and put two sets of towels and a set of sheets in it and toss it in a car too.
- Pack a suitcase with clothes and whatever cleaning supplies you’ll need when you get there. Also things like a bottle of hand soap, a hand towel, paper towel, a roll or two of toilet paper.
- Take your important documents with you on your person. I know this is a no brainer, but just....
- I have a laundry basket that we keep in the car with us that has the coffee pot (so critical), mugs, two changes of clothes for each person, a fresh towel per person, a bath mat, a shower curtain, all-purpose cleaner, a sponge, a washcloth, body wash, toothbrushes/toothpaste, a roll of paper towels and toilet paper.
- I pack a cooler in the floorboard with water bottles, a pound of ground coffee and filters, and some fresh fruit. It has saved me literally every time, in one way or another.

We loooooved our old house....and now it's empty...and dirty?! What the.....
- Hire people to clean your house. Full stop.

Yay! We're at our new house! WHAT.IS.HAPPENING TO MY LIFE.
- Make sure boxes go into the exact room you want them in at the new house. It will make unpacking so much easier!
- Tape a paper note outside rooms that you put on the boxes (kid #1 bedroom, etc) saves you time having to direct people unloading.
- I set aside a laundry basket with clothes and sheets for beds I need so I don’t have to dig for it when I’m tired.
- Make your bed first when you get to the new place. Order pizza for dinner.

We're here! New house! New chapter! (Ummmm....where's the iron?!)
- Cut yourself a break. It's not going to be perfect. It's not going to all be put away and pretty right away. A month later, and we're still working on getting the cars into the garage.


I don't mind one bit telling you that this is my last suggestion here only because I hope it will stick with you.

Attitude of gratitude:
- Corny but attitude is everything. We’ve had two major moves and both times it took me two years to acclimate and enjoy the new instead of mourning who and what we left behind. That’s a lot of wasted time! Enjoy the process and adventure. 🙂

Do you have moving suggestions to add? Please comment here and I'll update this font of wisdom. xoxo and happy trails!

Thoughts that may be running through a #FloodBrain near you

Just in case you'd like a glimpse of what's running through the mind of your coworker or friend or cousin who flooded and whose eyes look so vacant 73% of the time, here you go:

1. Ooooh! I forgot to call {fill in the blank with very important person who must be called during business hours only, Monday through Friday only, about a time-sensitive, house-related project so that we can live in our house sooner vs. later}.
   
2. I've got to get my car tag for my new car since my old one flooded. But I can't keep running errands at lunch like this. That will take hours, I know. CALGON!
   
3. Did we use the last Walmart gift card the other day? People are SO nice! We don't deserve all this.
   
4. I wonder if my gym shorts survived. Heck, I wonder if my GYM survived.
   
5. Did we really get flooded? Surreal.
   
6. I have to focus!
   
7. I'm trying. I'm really trying.
   
8. Can {insert piece of furniture} be salvaged? I've gotta figure that out this week!
   
9. FO. CUS.
   
10. Did I thank so-and-so for that nice thing? I've GOT to do that!

My coworker calls it #floodbrain. 

Best. Description. Ever.

(But we really are trying.)

Life Lessons from Ringo: #laflood edition.

All I ever needed to know about coping with flooding, I learned from our dog.

While Michael and I struggle daily to handle Life After The Flood physically, mentally, emotionally and financially, don't worry, because Ringo is just.fine.

With that, I bring you a few observations straight from the beagle himself:

1. Toys are not essentials. You may have loved them, they may have occupied your time, and it may make you sad to see them in yucky mud, but when it comes down to it, toys are not the end game. Love, faith, friends and family are the biggest priorities.
2. Keep your personality. Even if others know what happened to you but they treat you kindly and normally, and you react with normalcy, guess what? NEW FRIEND!
3. Find the bright side. According to my dad, my food bowls and Kong toy were "total losses" (whatever that means), but because of going all these new places, I've smelled all kinds of interesting scents, met great friends, and adjusted to new locations. Change can be good, y'all.
4. Bloom where you're planted. Since the flood, I have been in three different friends' houses and I have loved every single one. My situation has not been the same in each place, and I have had to adjust, but there's something to be happy about everywhere. Also, if people don't love
   
   me, I just keep going. MY people love me. That's what matters. Right?
5. Schedules are important, yo. Even if your house is uninhabitable, don't let anyone or anything keep you from eating and sleeping (even those pesky humans and their "priorities"). 

Ringo is always happy to add insight to life adventures, and you can often see him smiling on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook. Find him using the hashtag #heyringo. 

Much love from Baton Rouge!

#Katrina11 + #laflood = brand new perspective

Biloxi, before and after 

Hurricane Katrina.

Eleven years ago today, Hurricane Katrina changed the landscape of the Mississippi Gulf Coast where I grew up.

As tragic as that day, the months and years to follow have been, I didn't think I could feel any more strongly about personal belongings being destroyed than I did in 2005.

I thought, "You know, I'm FROM the coast. I get the sense of loss. I'm as close as you can come to being the one who actually lost everything."

And maybe I was. Maybe. 

Or maybe I didn't realize that while being away and not being able to help in the ways I wanted pained me, just as a picture of a destroyed landscape doesn't show a 360 degree view, nor does not living in it.

Panoramic view from our driveway in Baton Rouge, 

taken this evening.

Maybe I kind of missed out on the fact that driving past debris piles daily wears on you. Seeing others' belongings sitting on their street is saddening in ways you can't describe. And hearing about diggers climbing on debris mounds is both infuriating and heartbreaking at the same time.

And there's no maybe about this one -- I certainly didn't think about the toll a mass displacement takes on hosts and hostesses during this type of crisis. "Yes, please come into my home. I want to make you feel welcome. What can I do to help you?" And then silently, surely, "How long will this last again? They're nice, but...my family needs some normalcy, man." 

Then the guilt. Everyone involved feels the guilt.

Those of us who went through it wonder what we could've done better, how we could've been proactive.

Those of us not present to help want to be there to help, even when there's nothing tangible to do, and maybe even nowhere to stay while we do the nothing that's so important for us to feel like we're doing. (This was 100% me in Katrina while I was three hours' north of my family, by the way.)

Those of us present bend over backwards to help however we can. Laundry? Dishes? A place to hang out? A meal? My home? A ride to work?

It's all over the top, and we are over the top, and our emotional barometers are full before we can ever brush our teeth in the mornings.

Each anniversary of Katrina, I reminisce on my beautiful upbringing and all the places and faces I call "home."

This year is different.

This year I'm empathizing with Nan, and all the times I offered to give her something -- you know, a basic, like a nail file, and she replied with, "Well honey, I used t'have SEVEN of 'em, but now I guess they're FLOATIN' in th' GULF a' MEXICO."

This year I'm thinking about my Mother, and her multiple washings of Nan's and others' clothes to make sure they got that "Katrina smell" out and saved the saveable clothes from ruining. (God BLESS laundry and dish washing angels!)

This year I'm thinking about Pop Ball, who diligently worked at contacting FEMA and filing insurance claims and making repairs like it was his job, and I'm thankful for a husband that is doing the same, on top of his own full-time job, plus spraying the house nightly for mold and sorting through clothes as we organize ourselves in another new place.

This year I'm thinking about the many who hosted families like my own little Maricelli bunch of Baton Rouge in their homes when they were displaced by that storm.

This year I'm thinking of all the power outages, which I am thankful we are not dealing with, and all the nasty heat on the Mississippi Gulf Coast in August '05 and in Baton Rouge in August '16, and how we are all getting so much sun, but not in an ideal way.

This year, on the anniversary of the storm that changed the landscape of my upbringing, I'm thinking about the first 18-wheelers I saw coming into Baton Rouge post-flood, and how they were all from my Mississippi Gulf Coast. And the first of still ongoing Red Cross trucks that delivered meals to my neighborhood, and how they were from my Mississippi Gulf Coast, too.

No, this memory and day aren't all about what we went through in Baton Rouge, but I'm experiencing a different sort of commemoration of Hurricane Katrina, and it's all because of the flood we just experienced and, though we [read: me] are terrified, we have been shown enormous kindnesses.

Mainly, I'm keenly aware that while eleven years ago today Hurricane Katrina changed the landscape of where I grew up, and that while two weeks ago a flood changed the landscape of my present life, I am from a resilient people, and a pattern has been set to overcome tragedy. Michael and I will not just survive; we will thrive.

Our perspective may have changed, but our resolve has only strengthened.

Of all the beliefs that remain unchanged, though, there's this: good riddance, Katrina.

Unprecedented: How the Louisiana Flood Seeped Into Our City, Home and Hearts

Unprecedented.

That's the word I kept seeing to describe the flood waters and the back flow that crept into Baton Rouge last weekend, turning my sweet, fun-loving city into a crest of the unknown, and then into a smelly row of debris piles.

Once meteorologists and city officials led us with the term, it became a key word around here:

We've had an unprecedented amount of rainfall...

The parish and surrounding areas are seeing an unprecedented amount of flooding...

This crisis is, aside from hurricanes, completely unprecedented for the state of Louisiana...



Our neighborhood, when we came home
Sunday after evacuating Saturday night.
I took this picture and am standing at the
street corner, about 8 houses from ours.
The guys you see are our friend Scott and
Michael, waist-deep in water. They have
just been to our house for the first time.

When my husband and I got back to our home of one year and one week the day after we evacuated, we saw that the meteorologists and city officials were right: this flooding and back flow were, indeed, unprecedented.

Parking at least a mile away, we passed tired, tearstained, sunburned faces pushing children in Target shopping carts and knew we had made the right decision to leave the night before. What we couldn't have imagined was that our home, some forty feet above sea level, could have taken water. After passing boats still rescuing our neighbors and wading through knee- and hip-deep water into our subdivision, we learned that not only was water in our house, it was in it nearly two feet high.

Thankful for the gracious friends who had insisted we come to their house but still fearful of the unknown, we waited two days for the water to recede. Once it did, we faced the devastating truth that our area, once laughed at for no flood insurance due to its high elevation, was now sitting in two to four feet of water.

Unprecedented, indeed.

Half of our neighborhood looked like our house. Much of Baton Rouge is the same. The stench, we fear, will never leave our noses.

The two quiet towns east of us, Denham Springs and Walker, and a lovely town northwest of us, Zachary, are badly damaged. No one we know doesn't have some kind of story about someone losing everything.

For Baton Rouge, that is unprecedented.

But also unprecedented, we noticed immediately, were the calls, texts, Facebook messages, and outreaches to us and our families on our behalf checking on us. People drove by our house, trying to see if we were all right and offering assistance. One of our best friends came right away, and seeing our shell shocked faces, whipped up a team from our church to help clean up the debris the next day. She also insisted on setting up a Go Fund Me account for us, and secured our storage unit.

The same friends who are housing us didn't ask, but prepared meals for us every day and night, and could not if they tried ever make us feel more at home. Their son, our ring bearer just a year and a week before, greets us every time we walk in with an enthusiastic, "Hey Michael! Hey Rebekah! Hey Ringo!"

Probably most unprecedented for me is the way I see our neighborhood coming together. The night before the flooding, when Michael was checking the drainage ditch every 30 minutes, he would mention, "Rick said so-and-so" or "Robbie mentioned this," and I was all, "Um, is that the neighbor?" Today, to quote Nan, I would know our whole street if I saw 'em on th' big road, hon-ey. I think that's how it's supposed to be. But still, it's unprecedented.

The majority of our things are in a pile on our street. I know that's not the most important thing in life; the most important thing is that we are safe and healthy and together. But the furniture that Michael's granddad made and the things Nan gave me can never be replaced, and so we grieve because while those things are just things, they are our things that are precious to us.

We have just been married a year, so many of our registry items were nearly brand new. Those were just things, but we picked them out together to start our life together, and they are ruined, and it was kind of sad to throw them on the heaping pile of soggy trash in front of our once nice and neat neighborhood.

All of this, for us, is certainly unprecedented.

But also unprecedented is the overwhelming compassion we feel for one another. I am more protective of this man I married than I ever dreamed possible. I have butterflies like I did when we said "I love you" and got engaged and got married, only they've grown. Maybe they're more advanced butterflies now? I'm not sure. Unprecedented, certainly.

We are absolutely blown away by our church, and The Church. The sheer love we have seen from our friends, family, church family and people who don't even know us is just, well, overwhelming. As Michael said to me on like Day 2, "You know these people love Jesus, but when you see them doing for you what He would do for you, it's just a completely different chapter of the story."

And he's right. It is. It is an unprecedented love we've been shown.

It has only been eight days since the Louisiana flood seeped into our city, and our home, and our hearts. And while it's going to be quite a journey without flood insurance, we are forever grateful for this unprecedented love we are encountering.

One thing is for sure: the circle will certainly not be broken. We will pay this unprecedented kindness forward.

 https://www.gofundme.com/becomingmaricelli

All That Glitters.

Often a sucker for a shiny object, I was recently encouraged to apply to cover the Miss USA pageant that's being held in Baton Rouge Sunday, June 8, 2014.

Not expecting to hear back after submitting my social info, I was excited to learn from the Baton Rouge Social Media Association that I was selected as one of Visit BR's social ambassadors for the event!

The other ambassadors and I had our initial meeting a few days ago and have divvied up events the contestants will be at for the next couple of weeks until the pageant.

So if you see an unusual number of glitz and glamour-related posts on my social platforms, I'm still myself, just in sparkle mode until June 8.

If you'd like to join in the conversations, we're using the hashtags #MissUSA, #GoBR and #KrewedeCrown. You can find me at the following places:

• Twitter: @RJ0hn50n
• Instagram: @RJ0hn50n
• Pinterest: RJ0hn50n
• Facebook: facebook.com/rebekah.johnson1

Shine on!

Wordless Wednesday: Perspective.

Wordless Wednesday: Out of the House After 2 Weeks!

Wordless Wednesday: New View

Wordless Wednesday: Riddles & Wit.

Wordless Wednesday.

Wordless Wednesday: Carnival.

Wordless Wednesday: January Skies.

Wordless Wednesday: In the Mist.

Five Things I'm Thankful For This Day.

It's been a while since I've posted five things I'm thankful for, and there's no good reason for it. So here goes:

1. My roots. Not just hair-wise, though I'm proud to be a ginger (shout out!), but my Mississippi, Southern, Gulf Coast, Protestant (specifically Southern Baptist), Moore, Johnson, and deep-woods, country roots. I love each of them, and wouldn't trade any of them for anything in the world.

2. Umbrellas. If you have not experienced the torrential rain that we have in the Baton Rouge, Louisiana area lately, just look us up. You'll see what I mean.

3. Nice people. This seems ridiculously basic, I know. But until you have reason to appreciate the "House Bunny" quote, "Mean people are mean," you won't get it. I hope you don't.

4. Technology.  It feeds my still undiagnosed ADHD. It keeps me entertained. It lets me blog. And it does much more important things, too, like saves lives. What's not to love?

5. Christmas cards.  They're better than bills. They make me smile. They remind me of why I loved going to the mailbox as a kid. That's some good stuff. And I know Christmas is over. But it's still recent enough for me to be grateful for it. :-)

Wordless Wednesday.

Wordless Wednesday -- Fa La La

A Weary World.

Lately I've wondered if I'm not starting to really feel my age.

Whether fumbling with technology, shaking my head at "crazy kids," or contemplating the meaning of it all, every once in a while, it just feels like the world is getting too...heavy.

Some of this, I know, is attributed to living more life. Diseases without cures stealing one last conversation with yet another great, influential friend. Landscapes I love literally being washed away by nature's fury. The list growing longer of people I know, and people they know, who have seen war firsthand. Amazingly willing hearts aching for children, yet unable to give birth or get through an arduous process of adoption. Babies suffering from others' mishaps. Political schemes determining the most innocent lives' outcomes.

Some days, life's just not that easy to live without asking a few questions.

I don't know if that's because this pirate is looking, as Jimmy Buffet so eloquently reflected, at forty, or because the world is getting weirder.

Whatever the case, optimism can be exhausting.

I was reminded, though, while watching a performance of my all-time favorite Christmas carol this weekend, that even though this world is indeed weary, we also have incentive to get excited.

Martina McBride sings it beautifully:

Hope, I'm reminded, is so powerful.

I'm so grateful for faith -- for that divine umbrella of contentment that doesn't resolve all my questions like a fairy tale, but  instead puts them in context like only a Savior can.

In spite of all the ugly, all the weary, hope truly is as beautiful and refreshing as a new day.

What a thrill!

Wordless Wednesday.