Way back when, before the days of children and when I actually wore single digit pant sizes, I played Junior Olympic Volleyball. It's not as hoity toity as it sounds. I sat the bench. A lot.
Anyway, during my 5 years of JO Volleyball and traveling to weekend tournaments, I spent countless nights in hotel rooms packed with my teenage teammates. These were the days before smart phones and laptops so we literally had no choice but to build relationships and act like teenage girls. That included swimming in clearly closed hotel pools after business hours, spitting over balcony railings, guzzling caffeine laden drinks until the wee hours of the morning, winning some tough matches, losing some that we should have won, making huge plays, missing crucial serves and just growing into adulthood together. You will never hear me say that I miss high school, because I do not. But those days of JO Volleyball, I miss those. A lot.
I miss the sport and I miss the people.
In a day where facebook reeks of political agendas and controversy, especially following the Grammy Awards, State of the Union addresses and the latest celebrity soapbox, I'm often annoyed by what I find on there. Several times I've wanted to just shut down my entire account because I am so over people talking about who said what and what they did and how it was so outside of what they should have done and blah blah blah. But, I don't. And the reason I don't just shut it down and walk away is because:
1) I like showing off my kids. And today was the first shower I've had since Sunday so leaving the house to show them off isn't really an option every day because their adorableness would be overshadowed by my smell and the length of my armpit hair.
2) I get to keep in touch with some people that I treasure deeply, even though I've not seen them in, say, 13 years. Some of those my former teammates from my JO Volleyball days. Heather is one of those people.
Heather drove her tan, chrysler mini-van to practices. Practices that she attended wearing argyle socks and cut off khaki shorts, and sometimes, a polo shirt. I remember being slightly enamored with her because she is one of those people that you just truly enjoy being around. Thoughtful, honest, genuine.
I graduated high school and kissed my semi-small town goodbye, loaded up my car and moved to an even smaller town to play college volleyball. I knew most of the players on my college team from my JO Volleyball days. Heather played volleyball with me in college for a year (maybe 2?). When she hung up the argyle socks and khakis (wait, no, that never happened), she stuck around our small, liberal arts college and for the next 3 years we shared our college campus and a few friends. She was forever making stuff. I remember her making a table top entirely from bottle caps for her apartment. From scratch. The only thing I'd ever made from scratch was Ramen.
Through the miracle of the internet (yes, miracle) I've watched her grow into an entrepreneur who sees what is lacking in a community and fills that void in local commerce with tenacity. All while maintaining those same qualities I admired so many, many, many, many years ago while we wore unsightly spandex (you can't play in a game in argyle and khakis) and knee socks. Honestly, integrity, authenticity.
Her latest endeavor is a company called Domestic Domestic. While most Americans disagree on everything from breastfeeding and cosleeping to more serious social issues, I'm sure there's one thing we can all agree on: Buying American made products. Buying WELL MADE American made products, at that.
That's what Domestic Domestic is all about. I asked Heather why she started the company. Here's what she said,
"So many friends do amazing things. Adopt babies, save lives, drs, lawyers, missionaries. I sell things. I just wanted to sell things with a purpose. Make my own difference. The selection of Domestic Domestic is carefully curated. Each item comes from a great company that depends on consumers to be aware of the quality. I love being the connection between these companies and craftsmen and a consumer who gives a damn."
I think that is amazing. Knowing your natural bent in life and pursuing it with a passion to make this crazy world a better place.
Domestic Domestic sells everything from whiffle balls to taco plates (which would make taco night at our house immeasurably easier. Dear God, SPILLED SHREDDED CHEESE. *shudder*) to this little gem that would surely make me smile more when I'm in my kitchen.
Head over to Domestic Domestic yourself and check it out. Because they have stuff I don't even know what you do with it. And a murse that I'm pretty sure Luke is gonna pee his pants over when I show it to him. (He's been looking for one for months. Just pick one already, right?)
Point is, there's variety. American made variety. And some pretty fun stuff that if I'd known about in college, would have made me feel better about making my ramen from scratch.
Anyway, during my 5 years of JO Volleyball and traveling to weekend tournaments, I spent countless nights in hotel rooms packed with my teenage teammates. These were the days before smart phones and laptops so we literally had no choice but to build relationships and act like teenage girls. That included swimming in clearly closed hotel pools after business hours, spitting over balcony railings, guzzling caffeine laden drinks until the wee hours of the morning, winning some tough matches, losing some that we should have won, making huge plays, missing crucial serves and just growing into adulthood together. You will never hear me say that I miss high school, because I do not. But those days of JO Volleyball, I miss those. A lot.
I miss the sport and I miss the people.
 |
| JOVB Summer of 1997 (?) I'm the 3rd from the left. My friend Heather is last on the right. Our hair. I blame humidity. And the 90's. |
1) I like showing off my kids. And today was the first shower I've had since Sunday so leaving the house to show them off isn't really an option every day because their adorableness would be overshadowed by my smell and the length of my armpit hair.
2) I get to keep in touch with some people that I treasure deeply, even though I've not seen them in, say, 13 years. Some of those my former teammates from my JO Volleyball days. Heather is one of those people.
Heather drove her tan, chrysler mini-van to practices. Practices that she attended wearing argyle socks and cut off khaki shorts, and sometimes, a polo shirt. I remember being slightly enamored with her because she is one of those people that you just truly enjoy being around. Thoughtful, honest, genuine.
I graduated high school and kissed my semi-small town goodbye, loaded up my car and moved to an even smaller town to play college volleyball. I knew most of the players on my college team from my JO Volleyball days. Heather played volleyball with me in college for a year (maybe 2?). When she hung up the argyle socks and khakis (wait, no, that never happened), she stuck around our small, liberal arts college and for the next 3 years we shared our college campus and a few friends. She was forever making stuff. I remember her making a table top entirely from bottle caps for her apartment. From scratch. The only thing I'd ever made from scratch was Ramen.
Some people have a gift to see beyond the immediate potential of an object (or business) and cast forth a vision of their own. To see beyond what something is in the present and create with it something outside it's normal function. I mean, do you know how long she had to save bottle caps? I'd have quit after buying my first 6-pack of bottled fanta. But that's not Heather.
Through the miracle of the internet (yes, miracle) I've watched her grow into an entrepreneur who sees what is lacking in a community and fills that void in local commerce with tenacity. All while maintaining those same qualities I admired so many, many, many, many years ago while we wore unsightly spandex (you can't play in a game in argyle and khakis) and knee socks. Honestly, integrity, authenticity.
Her latest endeavor is a company called Domestic Domestic. While most Americans disagree on everything from breastfeeding and cosleeping to more serious social issues, I'm sure there's one thing we can all agree on: Buying American made products. Buying WELL MADE American made products, at that.
That's what Domestic Domestic is all about. I asked Heather why she started the company. Here's what she said,
"So many friends do amazing things. Adopt babies, save lives, drs, lawyers, missionaries. I sell things. I just wanted to sell things with a purpose. Make my own difference. The selection of Domestic Domestic is carefully curated. Each item comes from a great company that depends on consumers to be aware of the quality. I love being the connection between these companies and craftsmen and a consumer who gives a damn."
I think that is amazing. Knowing your natural bent in life and pursuing it with a passion to make this crazy world a better place.
Domestic Domestic sells everything from whiffle balls to taco plates (which would make taco night at our house immeasurably easier. Dear God, SPILLED SHREDDED CHEESE. *shudder*) to this little gem that would surely make me smile more when I'm in my kitchen.
Head over to Domestic Domestic yourself and check it out. Because they have stuff I don't even know what you do with it. And a murse that I'm pretty sure Luke is gonna pee his pants over when I show it to him. (He's been looking for one for months. Just pick one already, right?)
Point is, there's variety. American made variety. And some pretty fun stuff that if I'd known about in college, would have made me feel better about making my ramen from scratch.