A Woman's Right To Shoes

Ten Things That Are Bringing Me Joy

2011-10-11T20:31:00.003-05:00

And just in case I risk being accused of being "overly negative" here are Ten Things That Bring Me Joy right about now...

1. My boyfriend challenged me to a Pumpkin Carve-Off about a month ago, and I'm pretty sure he's forgotten, but I sure haven't. Hey babe, guess what we're doing this weekend?

2. The Big Bang Theory. Seriously, I could watch this show Every. Single. Day. Good thing it's on TBS, so now I really can.

3. Onesta Hair Care - not just an amazing job, but literally the best hair products I've ever used in my life too. And non-carcinogenic to boot.

4. Speaking of carcinogenic - Breast Cancer Awareness Month, and specifically the BCAA Symposium and Conference, at the beginning of the month helped bring me some much appreciated perspective on how truly blessed we all are, and how to embrace every day of life with all the passion I have.

5. Fall weather - Boots, tights, sweaters, hats, scarves, hand warmers, Pumpkin Spice Latte's, bonfires, apples, football, boots! I love fall! What's not to love?

6. Cable TV (partially for the fact that it brought The Big Bang Theory to my life, but also, The Kardashians, Millionaire Matchmaker, Prohibition, Revenge).

7. The joys of being Wheat-Free, such as sleeping better, feeling better, and hopefully soon, looking better.

8. I have the absolute best boyfriend on earth. He is the best man I know, and I'm unabashedly enamored with him. How he ever manages to love me back is a God given miracle, and makes me smile from ear to ear.

9. The small amount of self satisfaction and smugness that comes from simultaneously reading Wheat Belly, God & Harry Potter At Yale, and Guns, Germs & Steel. Not to mention, these are three amazingly good books. Add to this that my copy of Kisses From Katie is on it's way from Amazon and I'm in book heaven.

10. Knowing that despite all the crap I've been wading through with gossip, speculation, unsupporting friends and just feeling "out of the loop", my life is full of grace, I have the capacity to show love and mercy, and I am learning so much about what's important in life.

Totally random, but has anyone else noticed that Bob Barker has no eyebrows?

Setting The Record Straight Once Again

2011-10-11T17:09:00.004-05:00

Sooo.... I posted something last week that I had on my mind for months, but hadn't found the courage to say. It's below if you want to read it.

Since that time I've been doing some more thinking, based mostly off of two very snarky, very hurtful comments I received, about the nature of being passive aggressive, and what role it plays in speculation, rumors and "sanctified" gossip.

I think it plays a big role, since it's basis is in avoidance. Avoidance of the issues, avoidance of a person, avoidance of confrontation (which isn't always a bad thing!). Avoidance is often at the core of gossip and speculation, as gossip is a sin that never confronts anyone to their face, but whispers about them behind their back. Gossip is, more often than not, an "Anonymous" sin.

Was it passive aggressive of me to post my thoughts on gossip, speculation and rumor-mongering? Only if I had done so without confronting my accusers, which as I mentioned halfway through the post, I have done, or at least those that have been brave enough to bring their concerns to my face.

Sadly very few people that have been spreading gossip or speculating about me have also been brave enough to confront me about my supposed actions to my face. I can count them on one hand. I am very grateful for them, and if anything I respect them more for having talked to me about their concerns, and for having come to me in person, and it has deepened both our friendship and my appreciation for them. These same individuals, however, have also shared with me that other people have been questioning them, and bringing their grievances about my "Lifestyle Choices" to their attention. What I'd like to know is this - Exactly what kind of sin pit do they think I've fallen into?

The people that have been brave enough to share their concerns to my face have also held the right to protect the identity of the people who have chosen to remain anonymous in their gossip and speculation. I respect that right completely, as I think in a way, it ends the vicious cycle of gossip and rumors. If those people who are asking about me are not brave or caring enough to confront me personally, and would prefer to take the passive aggressive way out, then I don't want to know who they are anyways.

Ironically enough then, the very thing I'm being accused of, for posting what I did below, is the thing that I have fallen victim to. It's easy to ask someone else about a person, requesting to remain anonymous, and know that you can get the scoop on a person, air your opinions, and all the while be protected. It's equally easy to post a comment that's hurtful and rude, knowing your identity will be shown as "Anonymous". Sadly, it's very easy to be passive aggressive.

What takes courage, people, what requires guts and balls, and at least a decent level of caring is this: Confronting someone face to face. Or email to email, text to text, message to message. There is something very admirable about that, and something that flies in the face of sin. I think this is why Jesus told us to air our grievances to our brothers and sisters, if we have a problem with them. In doing so, we demonstrate courage, a level of caring, and we let Satan know that we refuse to live in the dark, but choose instead to walk in the light, and we invite those we have grievances with to do the same.

I challenge those people who've chosen to post Anonymously on my blog to walk in the light, and message me. My email address is trinetterkaiser@gmail.com, I'm on Facebook (see the widget to the left), and if you know me personally then you probably have my number. Will I be offended? Surprisingly, probably not in the least, as I can't imagine what level of courage and humility it would take to call me. More than likely, I'd be flattered and as long as you're willing to hear my side of the story, I'd be willing to hear yours too. As for the ones that have chosen to circumvent communication, and yes, the biblical outline for confronting your Christian brother, I encourage you to do the same - call or message me.

More than anything I want my side of the story to be known. I want people to know that I care, that I forgive, and that I'm alive and not living the life they might have heard I am. I just want the truth to be known. Which is why I've chosen to write about (not to mention the fact, that for me, blogging is highly cathartic, and well within my rights to write whatever I want to. It's my blog, so there!).

And at the end of another day, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

What I've Learned This Summer (not just the name of a 7th grade back to school report)

2011-10-06T13:16:00.001-05:00

It’s usually pretty safe to say that the things people fall victim to are the things they tend to stand most resolutely against. A mother who has a child who is struck by a drunk driver is more likely to join MADD, than someone who’s never been the victim of that kind of a crime. I think it’s safe to say that the same goes for all of us, we tend to be adamantly opposed to the things that have hurt us the most, whether that’s drunk driving, or adultery, or gossip or whatever.

Lately I’ve been dealing with the fact that, despite having a pretty boring, uneventful life, I’ve been the butt of some pretty hurtful and uninformed gossip. Needless to say, I've been ruminating a lot on the nature of this subtle, yet destructive tool of dissension and injury. It’s pretty amazing how all the clichés about gossip are true too – it spreads like wildfire, it needn’t be false to be hurtful, no one gossips about your secret virtues, and the very people who gossip to you are the ones who are going to gossip about you.

Gossip isn't one of those big, loud, showy sins that Christians tend to recognize as obviously ungodly. It isn't murder, or adultery, or any one of the Ten Commandments, for that fact. It's kind of like overeating or pride or little white lies, it’s such a white little sin. And sad to say, a lot of modern Christian culture still reeks with the remnants of decades of Puritanical conservatism and its holier-than-thou mindsets. We may not be living in the 1950’s, where housewives shared the local gossip over a clothesline, but in an age of social media, where everyone knows everything about everyone else’s life, it’s still an easy trap to fall into, and a hard one to own up to. What’s more, with the easy disguise of genuine concern, how many times do we as Christians use the excuse of “being worried about” someone, or “just sharing a prayer request”? What is often disguised with seemingly good intentions is nothing more than a sin hiding its own face, presumptuously thinking no one will notice. Or as George Harrison once said “Gossip is the Devil’s radio.”

I have all these thoughts and ruminations about gossip lately, because I find I am the unwilling subject of it amongst a growing number of people, some of them even close friends. Months ago, I would have taken the stance that yes, gossip happens – sadly, it’s inevitable, especially in a smaller church body such as my own. But now that I’m at the wrong end of it, I’m growing increasingly more adamant about how wrong and harmful it is and am starting to question the excuses we make of it being unintentional as just a farce. Even though I’m sure it can’t be true of each individual, it seems to me that there is nothing that keeps a small church body more occupied than speculation and gossip about one of their own. Yet so often I have been guilty of just sitting back and doing nothing about it, while other people gossiped in front of me. Now I deeply regret not standing up for the people in question and putting an end to it when I heard it. What’s more I wish I could take back all the things I heard, and now know (or believe to be true) about the people they were said about. Like toothpaste from a tube, gossip and our words are something that once they’re out, they’re impossible to get back in.

So how do we prevent gossip, in the first place? Well, the first step is to recognize it. I think everyone would agree that a gossiper is someone who has the 411 on someone or something and shares that information with other people who have no business knowing it. Whether harm is intended or not, gossip goes from being “caring” to hurtful when it’s content is negative, potentially embarrassing, shameful, and/or brings doubt or speculation on the character or actions of the person in question. Also, if it is shared without permission or knowledge of the person in question, that too it is gossip. I guess the old adage goes that if you have to stop and ask yourself if what you’re saying is gossip, than it is probably better to err on the side of silence, and not say it at all.

Another sin that has been at the forefront of my mind this summer is speculation, which I’m loosely defining as the willingness of one person to question the morality or virtue of another person in the absence of concrete information. Speculation can lead to gossip, and for sure gossip leads to speculation, so more often than not the two go hand in hand. Speculation, conjectures and assumptions about a person, without knowing the hard facts, is often what fuels a person’s motivations to seek out or listen to gossip. And since all speculation is, is opinion, it’s subject to the changing whims, fancies and translations of whoever happens to being hearing or repeating it.

Speculation drives me so insane, because it goes directly against the biblical mandate of taking your grievances to your brother. We are told in Matthew 18 that if your brother does something that irks you, go take it to him, and try to win him over. I’m sure that the same principle applies if you have questions about what your brother is doing exactly over there in the corner, or just how he’s living his life. Nowhere in the bible do we see it endorsed that in the absence of concrete information, talk to Neighbor #1 about Neighbor #2 and find out what they’ve been observing from behind their kitchen curtains this week. Yep, I’m pretty sure that’s not how Jesus rolled. So much gossip could be nipped in the bud if people just followed this simple idea. You hear something, or think something or wonder something about someone, and instead of asking that person, you go talk to your neighbor, and the two of you proceed into a discussion about exactly what the person in question could be up to. Is it truly being caring? Yes to a point. Is it opening up the door to questioning the virtue and intentions of that person, potentially judging them and giving hurtful gossip a big old Welcome sign with which to enter the conversation? Absolutely.

I have been thinking about all this, and wishing I could just tell people directly to their faces to stop their speculating and gossiping already, but sadly, one of the ways we as Christians bury each other’s sins, and our own as well, is through the whole “Someone said” game. As in “Someone said to me the other day that you were really struggling in your faith.” Really? Because I have not told anyone that at all lately, because frankly, it isn’t true, but thanks for checking. Or, better yet “I heard from someone recently that you moved in with your boyfriend, is that true?” Nope, it’s not, but that’s interesting because “Someone” is grossly misinformed on the little details of my life, but must have one helluva wild imagination. In the absence of cold hard facts, and because they want to dig out the truth but are too cowardly to ask outright, it’s easy for people to play the “Someone said” game. This makes it so easy to deflect any guilt, and still seem concerned and sincere. I would venture to say that the verse I mentioned earlier, in Matthew 18:15 covers this base in principle, and just as if you have a problem, go take it to your brother, there is also no better place to go if you want to know something about that person. Get straight to the source, if you want the truth.

Well speaking of the truth – the fact of the matter is, there are a few things I’d like to set straight, that have been bothering me lately. I have addressed them to the people in my life who are perpetuating untruths, rumors, speculation and gossip, but for those of you out there wondering, and happening to fall into the speculation or “Someone said” category, here is the truth of what’s going on in my life. Now you can stop speculating, stop gossiping, and hear it straight from the source:

No, I have not stopped loving Jesus, despite the fact that I have taken some time off going to church this summer, to just play catch up with my life. I don’t equate taking some much needed downtime as not loving God, but if you do, then I’m really sorry because I’m pretty sure you missed the whole “day of rest” thing. Too bad for you.

I have taken time off church because I’ve been busy, sick, traveling (both for work and for personal reasons) and because I can. I am a grown woman, and have the ability to set my own schedule, and if I want to take some time off, it is my inherent right to do so. Short of the overwhelming gossip that my time off has caused, it has actually been a really nice thing for me.

I have not taken this time off because I am running from my friends, from any “truth” they are “speaking into my life” or because I have fallen away from my faith. But thanks for jumping to that conclusion, it makes me so glad and reassured to know you all believe the absolute best in me and have such strong faith in my character.

No, I’m not pregnant. And I can’t believe I have to resort to saying it in a public forum either. But I’ve been approached by “concerned” friends, playing the “Someone Said” game, who’ve flat out asked if that’s why I haven’t been attending church lately. So let me set the record straight.

No, I haven’t moved in with my boyfriend and no, he hasn’t moved in with me. What’s more, he is not drawing me away from my relationship with Jesus, failing to be a good leader, a spiritual man or a moral and decent person. He has not whispered in my ear that I should be setting things on fire, drowning small animals, running over little old ladies in the crosswalk or wearing white after Labor Day. Fact of the matter is, he is a great guy, the best thing that has ever happened to me, the answer to my prayers and then some, and I have the utmost faith in his ability to challenge me as a person holistically and in all areas of my life, including spiritually.

Despite the fact that I’m largely MIA lately, I have not stumbled down a slippery slope of sin, like a good girl gone bad. No matter what you may think, I am still the same person, just a little more ticked off than usual, and with good cause. I am still the same Trinette that likes to play with kids more than talk to adults, who is goofy, would give you the shirt off her back and has absolutely no poker face. I am frustrated that a simple change in my habits has caused this much angst, and drama, and I am deeply hurt by the fact that I feel entirely unsupported by the people I would have months ago called my friends, but I know I’m going to be okay.

Because at the end of the day I’ve learned some pretty valuable lessons – like no matter what group you’re in, most people tend to shun the outsiders, and treat well only those they consider their own, even the most “Christian” groups. I’ve learned that if you want to continue in a friendship or relationship with someone, it is indeed a two way street, and that puts equal responsibility on yourself to work at it, and trust me, friendships take work. But most importantly I think I’ve learned what not to do. How not to judge. How not to live. I’ve learned that one of the most valuable things you can offer to a person, no matter what you think of their choices, is not to jump to conclusions, not to judge them without all the facts, and not to spread your suspicions, speculations and gossip around before you think about the life you are affecting, and the individual person about whom you’re blabbering about. I’ve learned that treating other’s as you would wish to be treated is truly the golden rule – it is precious, and beautiful, but it is rare, just like gold. I’m grateful for the character going through this summer has brought me, character that makes me both stronger and more conscientious, through the cost of a little pain and frustration.

I hope that this post, instead of seeming like the rants of someone who just needs to get something off her chest, will inspire you to take a look at how you’re living and how better to emulate Christ. Let me leave with a quote, from someone who said it a lot better, and less grandiosely than I’ve managed to. It’s off of a Facebook status from Mars Hill Church: “'If you go & sin no more, then neither will I condemn you' is the opposite of 'Neither do I condemn you. Go & sin no more.' Order matters." –Pastor Justin Holcomb.

And that’s my story, and I’m stickin’ to it.

Ten Things That Are Brining Me Joy Right Now

2011-07-20T13:02:00.002-05:00

Puppies & Potatoes - if you know, you know.

Started the day feeling a breeze going through my apartment and noticing there was a palpable temperature/humidity drop inside those four walls overnight. Maybe this weekend I'll actually be able to stay there instead of trying to escape to anywhere that doesn't feel like Dante's 7th Circle of Hell.

First song on the radio this morning: Blake Shelton's "HoneyBee". Seriously, how cute is Blake Shelton? How even cuter is that song? I haven't told my sweetheart yet, but I think I want that to be "our song".

Speaking of the man - the surprise for me that he is not working this weekend, and the surprise for him that I'm not in Las Vegas till next weekend, meaning we have the entire weekend to spend together. Now that's a great surprise!

Things are calming down a bit at work as the new gals become more confident working independently. Maybe this week I won't be staying till 7:00 every night :)

Shopping on Monday with Calli!! Yay for beautiful new friends and retail therapy!

The prospect that, according to the often-wrong Kare 11 Weather Team, it's supposed to cool down significantly in the next few days. Like ten degrees or more temperature drop cool down.

7 more days till Cosmoprof in Vegas. 35 more days till Boston with my baby!

More fodder for the stream of consciousness conversation I've been having with myself on the subject of doing everything "in love". THIS is the call of all Christiankind - and the greatest action we can ever take. I love learning about it, and only wish I could get the idea that I want a tattoo of it out of my head.

Harry Potter - this past weekend and again tonight with a friend! Oh man, I think I just squealed a little big and maybe even peed my chair.

A Letter To The Young Women In My Life.

2011-06-15T15:19:00.004-05:00

Someone gave me the most amazing compliment today. She texted me to say thank you for remaining true to myself, even when I'm in a relationship. She said that her teenage daughter noticed the other day that I have not "changed", either myself or how I act, just because I'm in a relationship, and especially while I'm around my boyfriend. She said that this spoke louder than all the dating talks she and her husband could give her daughter, and thanks for just being myself.

Hahah, I guess it's pretty easy - I don't know how to be anybody other than me, and I've never been someone who's good at faking it. But I know I am also more than blessed to have a great guy in my life who loves me, not despite of who I am, but just because of who I am, and that allows me to stay true to all the dorkiness that is me. For the first time in my life, I have a tangible sense of what it means to be loved for all my quirks and oddities and to trust in a relationship that the other person will love me even as he discovers all the things about me that I assume would change his mind. Knowing this reassures me that this awesome man I get to know and love is a blessing and a treasure from my heavenly Father who has loved me like that since before time existed. C is just one more way that God shows me His own love on a daily basis, but by no means is he the only way.

Sidenote: Granted love is so much more than a feeling, or an emotion, and even feelings wane. Today, though, a thought occurred to me from the classic love section of 1 Corinthians 13- love keeps no evil of wrong, well it also needs to be sure to never forget the good either. As I practice every day what it means to love another person - the compromise, the self-sacrifice, the grace and acceptance and mercy, I need to make sure that I am not just forgetting any wrongs done to me, but always remembering the good about each person and the good that they've shown me. It's not enough to not keep track of hurts, we need to celebrate the things about the people that we love that are beautiful as well.

I am so blessed to be in a relationship that is every day teaching more and more about the kind of love Christ showed me. His is the kind of love that saw me dirty and filthy, and died for me with joy and love in His heart. For the treasure that was put before Him He endured the pain and the shame of the cross. We are that treasure that He was looking forward to. We were the light at the end of His tunnel. What's more, He didn't try to clean me up beforehand, or tell me that I need to act this certain way or behave that certain way to get His love. He took what was imperfect and showed me a love that was beautifully perfect. He was the first one to remind me it's okay to be who I am - that is who He created me to be and who He loved since before I was even born. And through this great relationship with C that He's given me, He is teaching me in new ways to refine what He has redeemed into someone kinder, sweeter, gentler, more sacrificial, less selfish, and all around better. Love is doing the refining work in me that all the behavior modification in the world never could.

The love that He has shown me, and the gift that He has given me of a man who accepts me the way I am and doesn't try to change me is what I've always wanted and prayed for, but knew I would be okay without. And I hope that the young women in my life realize that they too will be okay with out it, if that is God's will for their lives. We do not need a guy, a boyfriend, or a man to remind of us God's love - it is there for us to see in a million other ways, if we just ask Him to show us. Now that I have it though, I can fully see that it is nothing I've earned, nothing I've deserved or accomplished on my own, nothing I would have died or been miserable without, and most of all, I can see truly that it is 150% a gift from my Father who loves me. And fortunately, it is just like the Bobbi Brown makeup I've become so addicted to, it allows me to be me, only better. Btw - yes, that was a shameless plug for Bobbi Brown, but I am seriously adoring her makeup line. There is nothing artificial, fake or mask like about it - it is built around just being who you are, but better. And that is something I hope all the young women I know will realize about God's love - His love takes us just as we are and makes us more beautiful (Christlike), but still fully ourself.

Young ladies, remember that who you are is "good" in God's sight. He has created you unique and amazing and truly transcendentally beautiful. Every day He will find new ways to show you it Himself, if you just ask and seek. And frankly, I don't want to ever hear that any young woman I know is waiting around for a guy to show her this about herself - we, as the body of Christ, get the privilege of doing that, among other ways that He can use. But when you do find the right guy (you know, when you're like me, 36, haha!), you will then see in a new way God's love for you. Till then, don't change who you are. Love who you are. Embrace who you are, and grow in Christlike character to refine who you are into someone even more beautiful and glowing and reflective of He who loves you. You young ladies are amazing, and I love you very much! Now go conquer the world with all the love of Christ, because with a smile like yours, you're gonna stop this world in it's tracks!

And that's my story, and I'm stickin' to it.

All You Need Is Love, Love Is All You Need

2011-05-19T14:41:00.012-05:00

.....
Love is an amazing thing. Not the Taylor Swift, teenage emotion kind of love that wanes and fades with time or distraction, or even the exhilarating but fleeting emotion of crush (Bowie & Elliot style, yeah!) but God's love, pouring out from His side, pooling crimson red at His feet for us, and the love He pours into our hearts for others, that His goodness might be shared.

I've been thinking a lot about love recently, mostly because I find myself in love. Yep, I'm in love, with the most awesome man I've ever known, who is so good to me, and can only be described as God's blessing and gift in my life. All this mushy-gooshy lovey-doveyness has got me to thinking about how incapable of showing real love I really am. The other night, as I was driving home from one of our dinner dates, where he had presented me with an undeserved little token of his affection (aka GORGEOUS Anthro scarf), I broke down in tears realizing that no matter how hard I try, I will never be as good to this man as he is to me, or as God is to me through him, because I am completely incapable of an unselfish kind of love. Fears of not being able to love him deeply enough haunt me.

There on Highway 169, driving home through a haze of mascara runny tears, I prayed to my Father, asking Him to grow in me the kind of love that someone as amazing as my man deserves, the kind of love that is an outpouring of His own true love in my life. And He answered me back so faithfully, reminding me of James 1:17, that "every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows." Yes, C is God's gift in my life, but even more than that, He is a gift from my Heavenly Father, who rules the heavenly lights, and owns the whole universe to give away at His disposal. My Father is ever steadfast, constant and true, and because He loves me and graces me with a merit I have never earned, He has given me a token of His own beautiful affection in the love of this kind and giving man. It's an earthly love that reminds me of a perfect, heavenly love.

Today I was reading Kisses From Katie, which I haven't done in a long time, and I broke down sobbing in my chair (are we sensing a trend?), because beautiful, caring Katie wrote so eloquently, once again, about God's love in her life, and her near obligation to let that love pour of our her into the many lives that God sends her way. In case you haven't read it yet, her Good Friday posting was wildly stirring in it's humility and gratitude. Here is a young woman that is wholly surrendered to His will, crazy and unpredictable and scary as it may be sometimes. And the reason why she allows herself to live a life many of us couldn't even imagine, well, it's all about love. His love for her, and the love that overflows into the lives she comes into contact with everyday. She said it in one of her posts, that when she's scared of what God's unpredictable will for her life might be, she remembers that perfect love casts out all fear.

Reflecting on all the ways we can show love to the people around us, as a mirror reflection of the God who first showed us love, can be a bit mind-blowing. I know at times I cannot comprehend it, nor even figure out how to do it. I want to love the fantastic man that God has put into my life with every last ounce of love that I can give, and in God's perfect, unselfish, giving way. This is the way he has been loving me, and one of the characteristics that I fell so in love with is the fact that he is so open about expressing his love, his support and his care for me. He shows me God's love for me in human form almost every day.

Christ Himself, fully God, yet humbled to the point of being a pathetic human, showed that love when He bled and died for us. He showed it when he, bent over with pain and the weight of the sins of the world, carried that massive cross to Calvary. He showed it when He spoke not a word, but meekly let Himself be led to the slaughter, soldiers and citizens alike mocking and humiliating Him. He showed it when He exhaled that final breath, weak from the torture He endured, heartbroken from separation from God, the natural consequence of fully bearing our sin, yet strong in grace, endurance, courage and love. That love cost Him everything, and bought me my freedom. That love set the bar for all love before and after it, every love there ever would be.

Grace, Endurance, Courage and Love. Faith, Hope and Love. And the greatest of these is Love. Love is what Christ has perfectly modeled for me. Love is what I want to give back to the world, to the hurting and unloved children, and to the man that God has blessed my life with. I'm no Katie Davis, but I know that I don't need to be. I need to be me, TrK, and to find my own path to love the way He wants me to. Only in His love, and through His strength will I ever be able to do that. And though I am scared at the prospect of all the ways that He can do that, I embrace it to. For what else do we need, but love? Love is all you need.

A Story To Be Told On A Quiet Saturday Night

2011-04-09T21:31:00.003-05:00

Time has passed, a lot of time, since I wrote on here last. So much has changed, inside of me, and yet nothing has changed that's visible.

I guess what I logged on here to say, and to write was this: When nothing else seems like it's worth doing, or of any interest or meaning to me anymore, writing is the one thing that I can count on to be completely therapeutic and get me through.

Things in my life are still up in the air - I'm still looking for work, a year later, I'm still barely making it by, I'm still dealing with broken relationships, and the jaded hopelessness of a questionable love life. I'm still the same old me. But I've started writing again, a short story, or a novel, or a novella, I guess. And this one thing is different for me. At times when I have nothing else that excites me or that I feel I can live for, pouring my thoughts out onto paper, listening to the comforting sound of the clack-clack of my fingernails on my keyboard, is keeping me centered and grounded. I've always wanted to be a writer, and yet I've never had the heart to write anything other than journal entries and random blog posts. I've never felt like I've had anything to say. I still don't, but something has freed up inside of me to finally put down the nuances and emotions of what I've been going through. I have a character, whose words I am driven to tell. I may never finish it, I may certainly never publish it, but for the first time, I have something to write about, something that is inspiring me, and a story to be told.

And at a time when the days drag on forever, and I wait with a sad sort of hope that something in my life will turn around and change, this one thing is getting me through. I guess I should say Thank You God, for giving me this gift and finally bringing me to a point where I want to use it.

Anyways, that's all that's new with me. As I used to say, that's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

Brave Enough To Try

2011-01-24T22:42:00.004-06:00

I am a wee bit addicted to style blogs. Fashion, home decorating, anything style related, I'm a sucker for it. And there are some good ones out there, trust me. So tonight, here I lay in my cozy bedroom, the milk cocoa walls playing with the light from my red mosiac glass lamps, listening to a little B&tB, and a little Moulin Rouge soundtrack, reading the style blogs. I. Am. Happy.

And then I stumbled across this amazing mural, on Coco+Kelly, one of my favie-faves, and all of a sudden I felt empty and unfulfilled, desiring, nay coveting this wall, (ok, gross exaggeration, but once you see it, you'll understand the depth of my longing).

In case you can't read the caption, it says "You'll never do a whole lot unless you're brave enough to try." Oohhhhh, the truth of that message. I want to be a woman of action, of purpose, of bravery and of daring. I want to be a woman who never let fear stop her from trying something new, doing something different and living with intention.

And just as much as I want that, I really, really, really want that mural in my living room! It is so picture perfect for me, and I really want it, I really, really do. It looks adorable in a bedroom yes, but my bedroom is a quiet little sanctuary of warm cocoa and red coziness, and that's just the kind of message I want near the front door to remind me to go greet the world with a smile, Mary Tyler Moore style, as I leave every morning. Does the fact that it's backdropped with my favorite color, navy blue, have something to do with it as well? I don't doubt the fact.

Anyways, tonight as I sing along (quietly, under my breath of course) to some Elephant Love Medley, picturing Nicole Kidman and Ewan McGregor shouting from the rooftops the merits of taking a chance and a risk on love, and as I think about all the things I want to do in my life, all the lives I want to make a difference in, all the places I want to see, and things I want to try (learning Italian, teaching High School English - heck maybe even combining the two and leading a trip to Verona, to see the home of one of the great literary classics Romeo & Juliet), I think to myself that nothing will ever get done unless I'm brave enough to try. I think I want to try my hand at painting a mural, even.... I just need to be brave enough to try.

Does This Help At All?

2011-01-24T12:37:00.007-06:00

So I still haven't woken up. I still haven't had any coffee either though. There's one thing, no make that two things, no wait, make that four things that are kind of getting me through today, however, with a bit more of a smile than I would have without them:

#1 - Super Cute Monday work outfit, WITH jeans! I've decided screw this, I'm wearing jeans to work every day. Everyone else is doing it, so why can't I? Which reasoning NEVER worked with my mom growing up, but it's a good thing I'm an adult now and can eat ice cream for breakfast and pick my own clothes and do what I want. So, basically, my new work wardrobe is gonna be nice trouser jeans, button down tops, cardis and chunky heels, I can just tell. Today is no different. But it is wicked cute (wide leg, dark rinse Gap jeans, ruffle front red plaid button down from Banana Republic, basic grey cardi from the Limited, chunky red beaded necklace from Uganda, Vintage grey snakeskin T-straps from BR many a year ago, ivory chunky satchel with brass hardware from Target).

#2 - I've also taken to listening to my iPod at my desk, because well frankly, I find the silence around this place a little eery, and disturbing. And I work a LOT better with music. So right now it's Roma di Luna singing I Will by the Beatles, and before that it was a little Adele singing one of my all time favorite songs, To Make You Feel My Love (If I ever get married, I'm dancing with my husband to that song someday). Yep, Adele is awesome, and I wish I could grow up and be her - from the throaty, Bourbon soaked pleading in her songs to her vintage-glam sense of style, to her glossy auburn hair and flawless English rose complexion.

#3 - dinner with MA, my favorite used to be in youth group but has moved on to bigger things like college, kid. She is such a riot, and I love spending time with her and am always glad when we can get dinner together, trying new places and being culinary adventurers together. Tonight, we're using a Groupon someone gifted me (yay, free dinner) at the 508 Restaurant in downtown. I can't wait to get together and talk about all the neat, new things God is doing in our lives. Oh and boys. And school and work, but boys too.

#4 - speaking of boys ..... BLUSHIIING!!! I had a date this weekend, and now I've got a phone date tonight after dinner. That's all I'm saying. For now.

Well, today, this ugly semi-snowy Monday, that's all I got for ya. Hopefully, it's good enough to get through the rest of the day, cuz that's my story, and I'm stickin' to it.

The Mean Red Writing Blues

2011-01-24T10:43:00.004-06:00

Sometimes writing comes easy for me, and I have more words than I'm able to get out of my mind and onto a page. Other times, I have ideas, but no way of voicing them, the words just won't come. Other times, at best, I'm a zombie, lifeless, looking to eat me some brains!

Lately I'm somewhere stuck between the latter two, when it comes to my new blog, Dancing Backwards Through The Halls. I'm leaning a little more towards having ideas, but not sure what to say about them. And I know that writing is sometimes a discipline, and sometimes an art, but when I get to these roadblocks, it's more discipline in the true being tied to my chair with a pen duct taped to my hand variety. I've got a bad case of the Monday morning mean reds.

In any case, I guess sometimes it's cathartic to at least get some ideas out there, into the great big cyberuniverse, and maybe by doing so, the words will come. Coffee might greatly aid in this process.

So for now, here's a quote I'm working with, that I got off a blog that I just love. It's inspired me to think more on how to communicate the idea of identity - that is to say, whether or not as young women we are living as Authentic, or as Airbrushed Christians.

"I have no patience with the untorn, anyone who hasn’t weathered rough weather, fallen apart, been ripped to pieces, put herself back together, big stitches, jagged cuts, nothing nice. Then something shines out. But these ones all shined up on the outside, the ass-wigglers, I’ll be honest, I don’t like them. Not at all. " - Andrea Dworkin

Let's face it, someone who dares to put it out there that fake people bother her, and uses the term ass-wiggler, to define them, is quite alright in my book and puts a slight smirk on the face of this undercaffeinated subversive. Right now, till I get some Starbucks in me, that is enough to propel me just a bit further.

And that's my story, and I'm stickin' to it.

Hospitaliano!!!!

2011-01-17T18:42:00.004-06:00

The Olive Garden was my very first job ever, in high school. I worked there for three years, and by the time I left I swore I never wanted to see another bowl of endless salad or basket of breadsticks ever again. Though they WERE sooooo good with Alfredo sauce, not even kidding!!!

In any case, during the course of my Italian McDonalds career, I grew to love three things at the Olive Garden - their Cappelini Primavera (no longer available, thank you very much!), their Pasta E' Fagioli soup and their Tiramisu. Two of those things were amongst the healthier options you could eat at TOG, but one of these things was not like the others. I'll let your amazing skills of deductive reasoning work it out.

Anyways, because it's January, and because everyone wants to get on the health bandwagon in January, I was brainstorming low-fat, veggie loaded dishes I could whip up for quick and easy dinners this month, and my mind turned back to the Pasta E' Fagioli soup, as well as to a soup that my friend W made last month, which was delicious. And because I've decided to cut back my meat intake to just once or twice a week, maximum and to up my veggie intake my triple I thought that with a few tweaks, this classic soup could be downright good for me, as well as delicious.

So tonight, while listening to a little Over The Rhine, I whipped it up, literally within 45 minutes, including chop time. And now, after having sat down to a big steaming bowl, I can say, in my personal opinion, this is some of the best tasting, best for you soup I've had in ages.

So here's my recipe, try it out and tell me if you agree. Just a side point too, this soup has a full serving of your daily allowance of lutein, which is more than most of us get in a week! So without further ado, my Kind of Italian, Kind of Whatever Version of Pasta E' Fagioli Soup

1 tablespoon Olive Oil

3 medium carrots, chopped

3 stalks of celery, chopped

2 shallots, chopped

4 cloves of garlic, crushed

1 onion, chopped

1 lb. Jenny-O Hot Italian Sausage, casings removed

1 Red Bell Pepper, middle removed and chopped

1 Green Bell Pepper, middle removed and chopped

1 medium can of Diced Tomatoes with Italian Seasonings/Roasted Garlic, whatever you find

1 small can of Tomato Sauce

1 cup dry red wine (optional)

1 large container Reduced Sodium Organic Free Range Chicken Broth from Trader Joes (or Veggie Broth if you prefer)

2 tbsp Italian Seasoning mix from Penzeys, or any Italian spice mix (or Oregano, Basil, Sage, Rosemary)

1 can Cannellini Beans, drained

1 can Kidney Beans, drained

2 medium zucchini, chopped into bite size pieces

1 large head of Kale, leaves chopped into bite size pieces

1 package cheese tortellini, from the fresh pasta section, already boiled and tossed with a little olive oil to prevent sticking

Pre-grated Reduced Fat Grated Italian Cheese blend, to taste

In a large stock pot, drizzle a little olive oil, about one tablespoon, and let it get warm enough that it moves fluidly along the bottom of the pan, when you tilt the pan. Add the carrots and celery, and saute for 3-4 minutes. Then add the shallots, garlic and onions and continue to saute till the onions turn translucent. Remove from pot, and set aside.

In the same pot, add the sausage, and break it up, as it cooks, just like you would ground beef. I use a Pampered Chef Mix & Chop which is such a handy tool - seriously, if you know a Pampered Chef crack pusher, you should totally get one!

Once the sausage is brown, return the vegetables back into the pot, and add the green and red bell peppers, and saute for 2-3 more minutes.

Now comes the fun part.... you can just start dumping everything else in there, UNTIL you get to the zucchini. Once you get to the zucchini, STOP!! Do not add that, the kale or the tortellini yet, they'll mush up and overcook if you do. Just let everything else come to a slow simmer, and cook like that for 20 minutes. Now you can throw in the kale, zucchini and tortellini (btw- with the tortellini, it's much better if you boil it ahead of time, but if you're crunched for time, or pots, you don't have to). Return to a slow simmer and let it cook for another ten minutes, and voila!! Top it off with some of that shredded cheese, and some crushed red pepper if you're feeling particularly adventurous, and you have an amazing soup, with a ton of vegetables, that is hearty, and tasty, and not really all that bad for you either.

So, from my faux Italian kitchen to yours, enjoy!!! And as they used to say at TOG years ago, Hospitaliano! (I'm pretty sure they made that word up and it's not even really part of authentic Italian vocabulary). Enjoy!!

A Little Bit Of This, A Little Bit Of That

2011-01-12T10:33:00.011-06:00

So, it's been a while since I've had some rambling randomness here (or so I think), so I'm inclined to do a bit of that.

But first, I want to say that I'm pretty stoked to announce that I've started a new blog this week, aimed directly at young women, from junior high school to early career age, talking about issues that are relevant to their lives and hopefully offering a perspective that is godly and holy without being "in-the-box" Christianese about it. It's called Dancing Backwards Through The Halls. To quote it "The title came from the fact that as women, we are expected to dance backwards in high heels, a euphemism that refers to the fact that Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Estaire ever did, but backwards and in high heels. Young women today are expected to do just that – to gracefully navigate the hallways of our schools and workplaces, heck of our lives, while dodging slushies and avoiding been thrown in trash cans and balancing in the highest of heels and expectations. More than anything I want you to know that you don’t dance alone, but rather you can rest your arms in the powerful hands of God, and just follow His lead."

I think that says it all.

I'm excited about writing it, and have a goal set for myself of writing there twice a week. I could use some feedback about topics that are relevant to young women today, because I'm sure there are many which differ from what I think they are. So please feel free to go leave me some comments there, and I will take them all into consideration.

In the meantime, over here at A Woman's Right To Shoes, I'm still the same old me, random and quirky and just using this forum as a way to think out loud as it were. Today, well, let's be honest, the first thing on my mind is how much I love the outfit I'm wearing!!! I think it looks really cute and I'm pretty satisfied with it. A cute outfit can change the entire perspective for a day, and boost my confidence, which in turn boosts my mood like no cup of joe ever could.

Let's take today's ensemble: On top you've got clean hair, always a plus. Complimented by my favorite Banana Republic oyster colored ruffle neck shell, underneath a grey BR cardigan (you can NEVER go wrong with a grey cardigan!) which is embellished with darker grey embroidered roses around the neckline. Pair that with a simple dark grey grosgrain pencil skirt (also BR), and a black rosette belt (The Limited) , grey leopard print tights (Tar-jay) and black high heeled oxfords (also Target) and I'm not even kidding, this is one cute outfit today.

Maybe I've been reading What I Wore too much though seriously, how can you not be addicted to Jessica's blog? She is sooo cute and totally my style inspiration. In addition to home decorating and DIY blogs, style blogs and lookbooks are my new end of 2010/beginning of 2011 obsession. And since I swore & stuck to a resolution of not buying any new clothing in December, I was forced to shop my closet all month long, and trust me, I have some great pieces in there, if I'd only get around to being more creative about using them.

I think I need a good girlfriend to just hang out with me in my bedroom, rocking out to some Gaga, sipping some Pinot Noir and helping me come up with some hot outfits. We could snap pictures and I could make my very own TRK lookbook, for those mornings when I wake up crabby and think "I have nothing to wear" (Oh, I know we've all been there, trust me!).

Even without the help though, I've been coming up with some super cute outfits lately, and wanting to post them all. Like my latest favorite jeans mashup that I wore to dinner last week - a light blue BR tunic (that I never wear because it looks positively maternity on), belted with my favorite hemp/cognac leather Anthro belt (which solved the whole maternity top problem), underneath a navy and white sailor striped flowy Anthro cardigan, with Gap skinny jeans my TJMaxx cognac colored riding boots and an amber colored beaded Anthro necklace. There was nothing new, just something new about the way it all came together.

Anyways, I don't mean to bore you readers with a day-by-day play-by-play of what I'm wearing. It's just that it's a nice feeling to shop my closet, and find some cute new things to wear in there, and frankly, like I said earlier, it makes me feel gooooood about myself. So there you have it, in all it's trite little glory!

Well, like I said, this post was definitely going to be "a little bit of this, a little bit of that", but before I bid you farewell, let me add this last little anecdote for your amusement.

We all know what a klutz I am - well today, I lived up to that stereotype and then some. Here at work, there are not many interesting, fun or lively people. I think I'm about it. But we do have one engineer who is pretty cute, and seems young and fun and I try to say hi to him whenever I can. But he sits on the opposite side of the building, so I never see him. Well this morning, as I was sitting at my cubicle, poking away at my work, I heard him talking to someone over near the fax machine. So, slyly, I picked up some papers and thought this would be a good time to go make some copies. I stood there, at the copy machine, quietly copying while he finished his conversation, and then when he was done I smiled and said "Hi K, how's it going?", to which he answered politely "Good, how about you?" and we started chatting, as we walked back towards my cubicle. Or I should say, he walked, and I, at that very moment, walked into a file cabinet. Face first. Just took it head on. With him standing right there. It scared me so badly, I jumped back a little bit, and he asked me, all sweet and concerned "Are you alright?"

Yeah, I'm alright. There's not much that can bruise this ego anymore, and well, face plants, that's something I'm used to. Thanks for asking though, have a nice day.

And that's my story, and I'm stickin' to it.

Life Is What You Make Of It, Reprised

2011-01-11T06:38:00.006-06:00

So, a few days ago I posted a little bit of reflection that I'd like to clarify was by no means self pitying whining, as much as just reflection, and what was on my mind as an observation at that time. I tend to do that sometimes, and definitely do it here - just say what I'm thinking. This blog is often more for my own cathartic thought processing as anything else.

But my post kind of got me to thinking, about, really, well, what's on my mind these days. I started thinking about what fills my mind, and what I choose to communicate to the outside world, sometimes sans filter, on a regular basis. Another factor that got me to thinking was the fact that someone I know started up a blog recently and within a few days she had 400 hits to it. Within days. I don't think I've had that many people read my blog in years! Her blog is called "Save His Girls", and it's a forum for her thoughts on the issues facing young Christian girls these days. It is written from the perspective of someone who grew up in the church, and is what I would call a very atypical contemporary Christian woman with a heart for God and His people. She is so sweet!

In some regards though, I can see our differences in this heart for His girls, not in the heart itself as much as the execution. Whereas my heart for ministry is definitely in working with young girls in the church, I would like to think that I take the approach of helping them think outside the box of contemporary Christian culture, and all that they hear in church and from well meaning family. In that sense, I would never want to be labeled as a "contemporary Christian". Yes, I want to encourage the young women I know, and love to realize that they have the power, through God's holy spirit, and the freedom bought by Christ, to seek the Father's heart as it truthfully relates to us human beings and is communicated to them in His word, as opposed to what they hear from both the world all around them (aka Christian culture) and the "World" all around them.

Girls these days don't just get conflicting messages, they get it from the most confusing of sources - from church, and family, whose overprotective and conservative views on one end of the spectrum can be just as harmful as the overly liberal, hedonistic and self-centered messages they get from pop culture and media on the other end. And not only that, I really don't think that there are enough Christian women who realize that the messages purported by Christian culture are equally harmful to these young souls, as there should be, and could be. I am blessed to be surrounded by an amazing group of friends in my generation, who not only love God but are walking with Him in authentic and seeking relationships every day. There are a few of my friends I would be proud for any teenage daughter of my own to look up to, like my friends W or L. Or H, who I miss as a female co-sponsor, and whose life exemplifies all that these girls need to hear about living for God, not for husbands or children or boyfriends or images of what it means to be a good Christian girl. These are women who, whether intentionally or not, have managed to shrug off the image of, well lameness and sameness, that surrounds contemporary Christian culture and yet have managed to still have thriving, fruitful and deep relationships with God, and that can teach a whole lot more than any Point Of Grace album notes ever could.

In any case, I digress. As I was reading a friend's email last night, where he was talking about our jobs and how they are what we're doing in our life, but are they what we're supposed to be doing WITH our life, I began to reflect on the call to ministry God has put on my life. His words convicted me to look at both how I spend my time, and what I feel God has called me to do, and to really examine if I'm living out the mandate that God has impressed upon my heart, or if I'm just self-centerdly floating and coasting day by day. I'm thankful that a friend who doesn't often share, chose to last night, because in that instance it was both inspiring and convicting and it really got me to praying and thinking. I think that's called iron sharpening iron, but y'know. Anyways, one thing that came to mind was a realization that how I use this forum for communication (the blog) is one way I could be serving God more. And I realized that more often than not, blogging, for me, is just what I called it earlier, a cathartic means of self expression and self discovery through verbal processing. I'm a writer at heart, and writing things down helps me to think things through. Yet I hate journaling, so go figure. Having a blog has been one means of working through my own issues, sorting through my own feelings and facts and processing what is going on in my own life, more so than a communique or manifesto to the outside world or a tool for touching and impacting other lives.

Yet I asked myself last night, what would it look like if I followed in the steps of "Save His Girls"s author, and used it to post on issues relevant to young women, and from a perspective that thinks outside what they're getting all the time. Instead of self-reflecting rambling,
what about actually showing some purpose in what I write? What would that look like, if I chose to be so disciplined as to stick to it (something I really struggle with)?

There are so many things I want the young women in my life to know, and that I wish I had the words to communicate to them - things like life is more than worrying about the modesty of your Sunday school outfit, it's about making sure you're at Sunday School because you desire to learn from God rather than want to appease your parents. Life isn't about "Don't drink, don't chew and don't go with boys who do". It's about seeing Christ in every life around us, and honoring that dignity while encouraging holiness in those we are closest to. Life isn't as sheltered as you've been raised to believe, and the sooner you can see the world for all it's broken fragility and vulnerability, the sooner you'll gain a heart to venture deep into it, into the scary unknowns, and affect some change. If I had one wish for the young women in my life, it's that they would live with the courage to venture into places unknown, the skill to reach into lives untouched and the intimacy with God to do it from His heart and with His strength. If I had one wish for them, it would be that even now they would stop hearing messages that encourage, whether consciously or not, the thought pattern that life is about who you're married to and how many kids you have and what Moms group you attend, but that life is about how you let God flow through your hands and feet and mouth, how you see the world through His eyes and how you fearlessly get out there and do something to make it more like His kingdom. Whether you're playing KTIS or wearing a long enough skirt while doing it aren't nearly as important as just doing it, and I want to tell them that.

So, not to rip off a friend or anything, but because this has been something I've wanted to do for over a year, and I've let laziness hinder me from doing it, I'm starting a new blog, an offshoot if you will, aimed specifically for young women, Christian or not, to address the issues and challenges and situations that they are facing every day, and not just the ones we perceive they might have to deal with. One that they can post questions or comments to anonymously, and one that authentically and truthfully examines what they're dealing with without judgement or preconceived notions of what a good Christian girl should look like, think like or act like. A safe haven for their thoughts and (hopefully) an inspiration for their future dreams. I haven't decided on a name yet, and am still hoping and praying for a blog makeover, for both this one and the new one. But I've given myself a deadline of getting it set up within the week, and will keep y'all posted here once it goes up. I'm open to suggestions immediately, both on name, topic, and anything else you think should be included in this mission, this venture if you will. I'm also asking for accountability from my more faithful readers, since as I mentioned, stick-to-itiveness is something I generally lack.

More than anything, I hope that as you read this, you think to lift up in prayer the young women in your life, and ask God not just to protect them, which I know He faithfully and lovingly does, but to inspire them to dream big, to live bigger and to live a life of worship and full fledged service to the biggest God we know. He deserves all that we have, and they deserve nothing less than our hearts, time, love and support. For me, this is my calling, and I pray that I can somehow live it out on a daily basis. And that's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

Life Is What You Make Of It

2011-01-05T23:03:00.005-06:00

I should keep this brief, because I'm afraid if I don't, I'm gonna regret it.

I had an interesting talk with a friend today, and she continued to expound, after a similar chat last week, on all the reasons she loves being single. I wholeheartedly agree - being single is amazing! I love the freedom, the Independence, the lack of responsibility that comes in the shape of having to think of another person's needs and wants before my own. Sound selfish? It might be, and my friend and I agreed that oftentimes being single is the easy way out. Easy because it requires no change, no sacrifice, and for the most part it breeds a lack of qualities such as compromise and selflessness. The marriages that I've seen, while rewarding, seem like a lot of hard work, requiring a level of sacrifice and vulnerability and patience that I can't even imagine. I've heard the payout is amazing - a shared life, trust, unity, intimacy, having a partner to do life with, having children and so on and so forth. I'm pretty sure both situations have their pro's and con's, however, having a limited perspective, I definitely fall into the "Singleness Rules!!!" camp.

But as I was sitting here, reflecting on all the ways that being single is great, and all the things about it that I love, I realized that the only real thing about single that I don't appreciate is having to go to bed alone. It is never till I have to go hit the hay that my singleness ever stares me back in the face. It is then that I truly feel, and am, alone. I can fill up my day with people, and service, and a million other things that keep my time and attention occupied. But it isn't till I'm tucked in (by myself of course, since there's no one to tuck me in), and in the quiet stillness that comes before sleep that I ever wish I wasn't single. I'm not sure why, exactly, since I've slept alone my entire life. The solitude of an empty bed, of not having another face to say good night and good morning to, and the deep buried longing that it brings to the surface in me, is inexplicable.

Or is it? I mean, I know all the schtuff about how we, as people, were not created to be alone. We are relational beings, needed company and conversation and community. I get how that makes sense and do not try to deny that at times, I have thrown it in God's face as a pseudo-argument for my own discontentment. But I'm not discontent now, as a matter of fact, I'm hardly willing to part with my life as I know it, I like it so much. In talking with said friend, I mentioned to her that it would take one helluva man to make me want a relationship more than I want my quiet solitude and the peacefulness of my single life. (By the way, I feel like when I say things like that, I sound like a 65 year old man, living in a great big house alone with nothing but his jazz records and cardigans and gardening for company). So, what is it about this bewitched hour? This cerebrally unaccounted for period? This, this, BEDTIME???

I'm not sure, but I do know this, as I head off to sleep soon, after a lovely evening spent enjoying the three B's - Bronte (Charlotte), Beer and Buckley (Jeff, that is), I pray that sleep comes swift and heavy. I hope that there is no time between my head hitting the pillow and my consciousness shutting down, for me to think or dwell on, or even recognize this lacking element in my life. Because after all, life is what you make of it, and I have a pretty good life as far as things go and I don't plan on finding anything to regret about it. I may be sleeping alone, but as far as perspective goes, it's not the end of the world, or anything to get worked up about. As a matter of fact, in the big picture sleeping alone is not something I want to lose any sleep over. And that's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

In Praise And Awe Of Bad Boys Everywhere

2010-12-29T22:52:00.007-06:00

Sometimes the things we want are the worst things for us. Case in point - there's a boy. Doesn't every story start that way? Isn't there always a boy?

This boy is a friend. Granted not a great friend, not the kind of friend you call when you're stuck by the side of the road or just need a guy you can count on. So really he's more like a good acquaintance. And though he's not the kind of friend I'd count on in a tight spot, I like hanging out with him nonetheless, because for all intents and purposes, this guy is like Kryptonite for my weak less than Superwoman nature. He's lethal, but in the most "going out with a smile on my face" kind of way. He's smart, crazy smart, and funny in a dry, witty kind of way. And he's charming, and knows how to make me laugh, and I can tell he likes to do so. He's cultured and we can talk about books, or music, or movies, or beer, or sports or anything really. Anything that is, except God.

You see, because for all of his good qualities, this guy just doesn't share a common faith, or any kind of faith with me, really. I'm not quite sure if he believes in God at all, but it's not just the belief factor that is a glaring difference between us. It's that he's opposed to the whole concept of religion and faith in general. He has the cynical dismissal that only comes from being burned by either church or church people. Ironically enough, I see so much of myself in his stubborn bitterness, because I was there once before too. I have to wonder if the more religion or faith is pushed at him, and the more he sees people who's empty faith only wounds with self-righteousness and ignorance, the further he's walked away from the concept altogether. And with experiences like that, who can blame him? Granted, when I was at that place in my life, I didn't have the same reaction as he did, choosing to get back in the ring and give my faith another try, then finding that choice justified in God's goodness and grace. But I can see his point, all too clearly, when it comes to this subject, and I would never fault him for the doubts and fears that he has. Sadly though, it still presents itself as a chasm between who we are, as two different people.

Now you might wonder what the problem with this lack of connection is? Why are his beliefs such a big deal? Well like I said, this guy is just like Kryptonite to me - in a very dangerous, very "bad boys are the hottest" kind of way. Yep, I've totally got a crush on him, and though we haven't seen each other that much in the last year or so, the frequency with which we have seen each other has increased a bit lately, and I can't get him out of my mind. I find myself wanting to see him more and more. And let's be honest here, I find myself thinking about him a lot, and sometimes that thinking is about how much I want to make out with him, just as much as how much I want to ask him if he's read anything good lately.

Now, I've never been the girl who goes for the bad guys! I've even gone so far as to defend, in male/female debate, the viewpoint that not all girls do like the bad guys, using myself as a case in point. Yet, for some reason, this guy, let's just call him C, gets under my skin, and sometimes for all the wrong reasons. His temper, his roughness, his plain old manly aggressiveness - instead of being great big warning signs, sadly these qualities are a huge turn-on. He's got the whole rough and tumble, devil may care, hockey player fighting up against the glass thing down pat. Yep, he's got it down good! And he seriously makes me want to catch a case of whatever he's got. Like right now!

Don't get me wrong though. Wasn't it Mae West who said "I generally avoid temptation, unless I can't resist it."? Well, that's not me. For as much as I am attracted to him in a primal, rush-of-danger kind of way, my heart and my conscience are winning the battle against my mind, and always will. The fundamental differences in our faith are overwhelmingly more important and more influential than any attraction ever could be. And the fact is, at the end of the day, it's only a little crush - and that's all it ever will be.

As far as crushes go, I've already been down the road of falling for the best guy I know, despite the fact that he never felt the same. At the end of the day there is no one I trust, respect or admire more than the best guy I know, nor is there anyone I would ever recommend with higher praise. But C, he's not that guy, nope, not even close. Sad though it is, he couldn't even hold a candle to the kind of honorable, kind man that is the best guy I know. And yet I still can see myself falling hard, and fast, and well dangerously hard for him. On paper there is nothing about him that would sell him, in comparison to the kind of guy that is the best guy I know. Matter of fact, when you put it all down, it's an easy win for the best guy I know. But who's looking at paper when you're strapped to the back of a motorcycle, wind whipping through your hair, throwing all your cares away, and riding away into the great big unknown? Paper, what paper?

Funny thing is, from a different perspective, from the viewpoint of a woman who's not at all concerned with faith or spirituality or God or virtue, this guy is a great catch, even for all his faults. Because, for all his faults, he's still pretty much an okay guy. He's got a stable job, is intelligent, and charming, and witty and talented and nice. He doesn't beat women, or rob convenience stores, or kick babies and he's not a total jerk. Yeah, he's got some issues, but really who doesn't? From any other viewpoint, women are probably out there looking at him and saying "Wow, what a catch" and they're absolutely right. I had a conversation with a mutual friend the other day, someone who's worked with both of us, and who knows him pretty well. I told her about this crush, and my attraction to him, and she said that he's definitely crush-worthy, and an awesome guy, and I should pony up and ask him out, and then make out with him. Oh how I wanted to take her ill-formed advice, but I digress.

Anyways, all this brings me to the question "What is it about bad boys?" Why do they hold such a deep, carnal appeal? For all their rebellious, heart breaking ways, why are us women so attracted to them? Moreover, if you were to line 'em up next to the best guys we know, despite the good guys being the cerebral, obvious choice, why is it that it's the bad boys that we want to run off with? They are not the best guys we know. Not even close. But in a hotness contest, could the best guys we know sweep us off our feet the way these bad boys do? Not likely.

Without getting too deep into the subject, I think a big part of it is that sometimes bad boys are willing to act. Willing to do. They are men of action - Straightforward, brave, bold, and brazen. The bad boys are the ones who will tell us our ass looks good in those jeans, and elicit a smile that we know we should probably hide. They're the ones who will dare us to follow our dreams (or sometimes theirs) leading us down a path - albeit even an unknown, scary and potentially dangerous one. They're the ones to do the things that the good guys just won't do, to take the action that the good guys just won't take, and to live the adventurous, exhilarating, thrilling life that the good guys just seem unwilling to live. Unlike the good guys we know, they're not paralyzed by some unnamed and unidentifiable fear or issue that keeps them just acting, well nice and good. They may steal their household paper products, but at least they don't have their mom buying that stuff for them still. Part, and this is just part really, of their great big appeal is just their willingness to do something, to put it out there and live with intention and passion, , and quite frankly that is just hot. Women like men who take life by the horns and ride it barebacked and bucking for 8 long seconds. Women like men of action, and of initiative, whether that's for the good, the bad or the ugly.

So, tonight, as I wrap up this post and head off to bed because the last of my White Russian is turning milky amongst the melted ice cubes, I raise a toast, no, a great big hearty "yeehaw" to C and all the other bad boys of the world. Without you guys our sense of adventure would lie dormant, our choices remain unchallenged, our raw womanly appeal would be under appreciated and our lives would be boring. Without you guys, we'd forget what it is to be desired, pursued, or to crave something we won't allow ourselves to have. Moreover, without you there'd be no standard to dare the best guys we know to live up to, no leverage to throw at them in a challenge to surprise us, nor anything to make us appreciate just how wonderfully reliable and nice they are. After years of denial, I can say truthfully I'm a fan of the bad guys, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. And that's my story, and I'm stickin' to it.

Liesl - The Little Kitty That Peed

2010-12-17T14:46:00.004-06:00

I'm at a loss today. I'm having a really, really, really bad day, in true Alexander style. There are a few factors, but the most worrisome, the one I'm having a really hard time dealing with, is Liesl, my kitten.

See, I can handle all the crap that's thrown at me, all the judgementalism, the quippy remarks, the misunderstandings and lack of support that I feel sometimes. Throw it at me world - I may cry at first, but I'm crazy strong, and can handle it all. You can't touch me.

But when it comes to this sweet little helpless creature that I believe that God has entrusted into my care, well, my heart and my most protective instincts come into play. My heart is literally moved within me, thinking that something's not right with her. You see, she's been peeing on everything she can get her four little paws on, most recently my bed, including my duvet and down feather mattress topper. She had been peeing on every magazine I have in the house, including all my Anthro catalogs, and after I threw them away, I saw that behavior end. But last night, with me in it, she just up and peed a great big bladderfull right on my bed. With me in it. My leg was waaarrrrrmmmm!!!!! Eeeewwww!!!!

Then this morning, she did it again, she peed on my duvet. I seriously think it's time for a new one anyways, but having to clean urine off it sealed the nail in that coffin.

The thing is, I know something can't be right with her if she's peeing on stuff. And I'm worried. I've scheduled a vet appointment for tomorrow, to coincide with my dentist appointment. I just want her to be ok I've grown so accustomed to her beautiful little face, and her incessant mewing. I find her charming, and adorable, and I want to take care of her and be the best owner I can for her. But let's be honest here, when she does this, I'm frustrated and angry, and there's absolutely nothing I can do about it. Whatsmore, I don't know how to stop it, or prevent it in the future. I'm hoping the vet will have a solution for me.

In the meantime, I dread going home tonight, to a little creature that I can barely understand, yet adore thoroughly. I really am not looking forward to the fight that lies ahead, and I can only hope and pray that this situation resolves itself in a favorable way soon.

Oh Liesl - if you only knew how much I love you. And that's my story, and I'm stickin' to it.

My Grown Up Christmas List

2010-12-14T12:41:00.026-06:00

When I was growing up, we didn't celebrate Christmas - Oh the joys of being an ex-Jehovah's Witness. But every December till the year before she passed away, my Grandma Dee would pull out the Spiegel catalog and let my brother and I choose an "End of the Year" present. We would bookmark the page, dog-earring it and circling what we wanted, and she would order it and it would get shipped to her house, where we could open it after December 25th.

I remember being so overjoyed at the thought of getting a present for no other reason than no reason at all. But the feeling I remember best is just being excited to take part in a tradition that somehow related to something we never got to take part of - Christmas itself. At a time of the year when everyone else got to celebrate holidays, go to parties, get presents, and just revel in all the fun that Christmas is for kids, us JW kids were constantly sidelined. If there was a Christmas assembly at school, we'd have to go sit in the principals office till it was over. If there was a holiday party in class, same thing. When other kids gave presents, we felt cheap and stingy, because we weren't allowed to give anything, even to our best friends. Being left out like that felt like the biggest thing in the world, to my childish heart.

Looking back, my Grandma's generosity of wallet and spirit, and her willingness to be a little subversive, at least as much as my grandpa would allow, did more for making me feel included and slightly normal than years of knocking on people's doors ever did. There was no more patient, kind or giving woman than my Grandma Dee, and this year, 20 years after her death, I still miss her with an empty hole in my heart. I wish she was still around so I could finally buy her something from the Spiegel catalog.

It's funny, but as a kid, the things you want are so trivial and basic. This doll or that toy, or this book or cd. And when you don't get them, it feels like the world is coming to an end. As an adult, my Grown Up Christmas List is so very different from anything I ever wished for when I was a kid, or could even imagine wanting, and disappointment is a feeling I've become all too used to. How very much we change.

I'm not going to pretend that I'm as deep and meaningful as Amy Grant, wishing for "No more lives torn apart" or that "Wars would never start". Yes, I want those things, but the cynicism of adulthood has left me no longer wishing for them with blind hope, and sometimes barely able to comprehend that I could, as one person, exact such change and peace in the world. My Amy Grant list today would look more like "stronger community focus on reaching the marginalized of society" or "the ability to truly love my neighbors without resentment at our differences" or "contentment amidst the dullness of day-to-day life as a single woman with a cat". But then that doesn't work so hot in a song, now does it?

In all honesty my Grown Up Christmas List does contain some of those things, but it also contains such vain and unachievable intangibles as "A whole year of good hair days" and "the joyful desire to get up every morning at 5 to go work out" and "finally finding that perfect buffet/sideboard/console for my living room, at the right price with free up-the-stairs delivery". I wish I could say I was as selfless a woman as my Grandma Dee was, but sadly I'm nowhere near the saintlike status that time and memories have given her in my mind.

As the years passed, and I moved from childhood into adolescence, the time I got to spend with my grandma lessened. Instead of sleepovers at her house every Friday night, our time together looked more like brunch once a month, on a Saturday afternoon, at Nordstroms Cafe, and shopping at the mall, till she would get on the bus to head home. Grandma Dee never drove a day in her life. I remember her saying once that any fool could drive, but it took a real genius to get her husband to drive her everywhere.

If my grandma were alive today, I know it would bring her great joy to grant me a Christmas wish. But the one that I would want most of all couldn't be found in a Spiegel catalog, or any other website/catalog/mall-store that she would frequent. I just want my grandma back, and for her to be proud of the woman I've become. I want to sit with her, at Nordstroms Cafe, as an adult, and know that this was one family member who loved and supported me wholeheartedly and unconditionally. I want more time to appreciate her, for her her quirks and eccentricities and for her goodness of heart, rather than for the things she bought me growing up. I just want my Grandma Dee back.

But in case you, for a moment, thought I was really gonna let it end at that (*cue violin music and single sad tear*), here is the rest of my Grown Up Christmas List. I'm not gonna lie and say it's all wonderful and beautiful and deep. But I do know that it's definitely not the list of a kid anymore. And yes, my Grandma's at the top of it, and always will be. The rest of it, however.... well it's a Christmas Wish list. Let's just leave it at that. So without further ado ...

... My Grown Up Christmas List:

1. Grandma Dee - 'nuff said

2. Someone in my family to come out and visit me at Christmas (or any time of the year really), at least once.

3. A really good hair day every day for the next year.

4. The knowledge of how to practically apply all I know about loving people and living a life of selflessness, and the motivation to actually do so.

5. Better teeth.

6. My cat to always, always, always use the litter box.

7. A non-judgemental housekeeper.

8. To actually lose weight when I work out instead of always... being... at... the... same... weight... year... in... and... year... out. Bleeeehhhhh!!!!!!

9. A boyfriend that actually likes short, goofy brunettes, thinks I'm smart and pretty and kind, is the best man I've ever met, will let me cook for him, and likes me enough to be able to tell me exactly what shade of brown my eyes are without using the words "baby poop" or "mud".

10. Or the ability to not desire #9 whatsoever, and just live in complete contentment with my life as it is.

11. All my youth group and Sunday School kids to grow up and do great and wonderful things with their lives, without making any of the mistakes that I ever made.

12. A blogmakeover.

13. A dishwasher.

14. The house on the NE corner of 39th and Washburn.

15. To escape the fundamental punishments of growing old - aches and pains, the inability to sleep in past 6, hearing yourself sound like your mother.

16. Peace and joy and laughter and sunshiney sparkly double rainbows galore for all my friends and those that I love.

17. To be an instrument of blessing in the lives of people around me this year, in a tangible and meaningful way.

18. A brand new Volvo SUV with leather seats and seat warmers and an automatic car starter and a rockin' Bose sound system.

19. To achieve the perfect balance for time management of time spent alone, socially with others, and serving my community.

20. Peace on earth and goodwill to all humankind!

And that's my story, and I'm stickin' to it.

Happy Saint Andrew's Day! Now Marry Me, Gerard Butler.

2010-11-30T12:28:00.021-06:00

I'm not Scottish, not even close. Nor am I Scotch, which is what I hear the Scottish hate being called. But I have always wanted to go to the Edinburgh Jazz Festival, and I adore red tartan (to the point that if I ever get married someday, I want a Christmas wedding with red tartan and holly sprigs everywhere). Plus I think Sean Connery was the best James Bond ever, though Daniel Craig is suuuuuuch a close second.

In any case, today is Saint Andrew's Day. And because I respect all ethnicities and nationalities (unlike some of my MN friends whom you'd think had never seen anyone that wasn't Scandanavian, by the proliferation of Mexican jokes I hear all the time - I mean really, are we really this lacking in diversity around here, that I'm considered ethnic???), I would like to honor the Scots, and their patron saint, Andrew, and share with you the five hottest Scotsman I can think of. Oh, and also because I'm positively obsessed with Prince William and his lovely bride-to-be, Kate Middleton, who shares my affinity for wearing navy blue, and since England borders Scotland, and is pretty darn similar ... well, you get the point.

So without further ado (said in my best Scottish accent), for your consideration, Five Hot Scots!:

1. Gerard Butler – Of 300 fame? The most sympathetic, make-outable Phantom of the Opera ever? That crappy Katherine Heigl flick which was so awful that I don’t even remember the name of it (really, she should just retire, soon, please)??? He’s from Glasgow and eventually settled in Paisley, and I’m pretty sure he’s gonna marry me someday and we’ll raise adorable little dark haired babies with Scottish accents and open Paisley’s first American run confectionary and bakery, while we grow old together in front of a fireplace, him and me. It’s gonna happen.

2. James McAvoy – He made Atonement. And he was in Trainspotting. (But really, who from this country wasn't?) Originally from Port Glasgow, he was also in The Last King Of Scotland, and did I mention Atonement? His turn as the ill-treated Robbie Turner made me cry, both for how subtly he played the nuances of forbidden love and smoldering anger over his lifes' injustices, and for how shockingly blue his eyes were. And he’s done tons of theater work and won awards for it apparently. Lovely.

3. Sir Sean Connery – He’s a Sir, did you know that? As in To Sir With Love?? As in, Yes Sir, if I was 85 years old, that’s one crush I’d have. As in, Sirtainly the best part of the SNL Jeopardy spoofs are when he wisecracks dirty "your mama" jokes on a flustered Alex Trebeck. Originally from Edinburgh, his turns as James Bond more than forgive his turn robbing the cradle in that horrible spy movie he made with Catherine Zeta-Jones awhile back. Plus he's done a lot of other stuff too. He may be old, but back in the day, he was hot!

4. Dario Franchetti – With a name like Dario Franchetti you’d think he’s gotta be Italian, right? Nope, he’s Scottish. He’s originally from Bathgate, with Scottish parents of Italian descent. He is the current, three-time IndyCar Series champion after claiming a third title in 2010 in addition to his 2007 and 2009 titles. On May 30, 2010, he won his second Indianapolis 500 race. In 2001 he married Ashley Judd in a castle outside his hometown in Scotland. Cute! And with a little much-needed eyebrow grooming, he’s not a bad looking guy. My guess is it’s probably nice to be him.

5. Dougray Scott – My second favorite Scotsman on this list, Mr. Butler aside, Dougray Scott is most notably remembered for his role as Prince Henry in Ever After, the Drew Barrymore Cinderalla tale that I saw, I’m not kidding you, 13 times in college (it was the only good thing at the cheap seats for about a year). Originally from Glenrothes, Fife, he’s also starred in the crappiest made-for-cable version of the Ten Commandments as none other than Moses, as well as in an early season of Desperate Housewives. Obviously Dougray Scott either has really bad taste in roles, or needs a new manager and casting agent. I’m available, Dougray, in case you’re shopping around.

Honorable Mentions:
1 Paulo Nutini – Nutini made the list because of his beautiful voice and music, though I don’t think I’d necessarily want to kiss him. Yet I’d gladly kiss any of the above (well except you, Grandpa Connery) to his song Last Request, which is so sway-to-the-music-pretty. If you haven’t heard it, which I’m sure you all have heard, then go download it and find someone to make out with, seriously. It’s that good. Nutini is also from Paisley, though you’d think he was born in the same little Italian town as Franchetti, named as he is (you don’t see too many Scotsmen named Paulo). But nope, he’s Scottish, as are both his parents, though his dad is of Italian descent.

2. Susan Boyle – And here you thought she was Brittish? Nope, she’s from Blackburn, West Lothian to be exact. And though she’s a woman, she gets an honorable mention for two reasons. #1, best makeover ever!! #2 – Well, for my girl Michelle, who just bought the new Susan Boyle Christmas album, and endured massive amounts of ridicule from both her husband and myself. There's not much "hot" about her, but here for you, an honorable mention shout oooouuuuutttttt for Chelle!!!!!!!!

3. Kevin McKidd – you know, if you like the Gingers. Not everybody does, though I can kinda see it. But he was great in Rome, really. From Elgin, Scotland, he has a strong theater background, and was also in Trainspotting, with the below mentioned McGregor. More recently he’s done some work on Grey’s Anatomy and Made Of Honor (he must have the same craptastic agent as Dougray Scott. Seriously you guys, message me!)

4. Ewan McGregor – he’s not exactly my type, as I think he might weigh something close to 102 lbs. But if you like that kinda thing, definitely he’s the hot Scotsman for you. Born in Crieff, he did pull off a wonderful turn as a young Obi Won Kenobi in some of the Star Wars movies. Whatsmore he was fantastical as a lovestruck Bohemian in Moulin Rouge (who knew he could sing??? His version of Your Song is, in my opinion, better than Elton John’s original, and I tear up when he sings the opening lines of Come What May), and he also produced some documentary about riding his motorcycle across the entire planet or something extraordinary like that. All that definitely deserves an honorable mention.

So you can keep your Irish, what with all their Bono's and green beer. Me, I'll take a Scotsman any day of the week. Between the two (well three, if you throw in the Brittish), I think the Scottish might be the sexier bunch. And that's not just me blowin' smoke up yer kilt, either. That's my story, and I'm stickin' to it.

Monday, Monday, So Good To Me??

2010-11-29T13:59:00.002-06:00

Every once in a while I get a big head, and I think I can pull it all off pretty well. I may even gloat a little. Usually about halfway through thinking like this, though, I do something stupid like spill on myself or say something really gullable, and all my classy-worldly-coolness is shot to pieces in one fell swoop. Today is definitely one of those days.

It all started off with a pretty sweater, the fact that my pants aren’t as tight as they were last week (no Cranberry Bliss Bars or Soy Gingerbread Lattes in three days though), a great hair day and some rockin’ awesome Chicken Tortilla Soup. Oh, and a kitten. I guess what’s interesting about the above mentioned list is that it doesn’t take much to make me feel good. Seriously, some soup and a cat? I’m easy to please.

Anyways, you could start this great and self assured mood off on Saturday, when my new kitten Liesl came home. Making a date of it, I took the faux-niece & faux-nephew to pick her up, and then to McDonalds for dinner. Nothin’ says quality time like encouraging responsible pet ownership and irresponsible dietary habits. We had a great time, and even J, who was in a snit when we left the house, softened up as soon as we saw the kittens. His usual ear to ear grin and machine gun style of laughter were confirmation enough for me that we were having a really good auntie/kiddos date. Matter of fact, on the way home, as A kept talking to the kitten, saying “We’re your cousins. Do you love your cousins? We’re gonna go meet your Uncle J & Auntie M now, little cousin kitty.”, I knew J was back to his old self as he said “Aunt Trinette, if Liesl is your daughter”, (umm, sidenote, she’s not – she’s my pet, but try getting a 7 year old to comprehend the difference between parenthood and pet ownership), “if Lisel is your daughter, and you’re not married, then you’re a single mom. You can’t have a daughter if you’re not married. You better ask Santa for a husband this Christmas.” Another sidenote – my singleness seems to be quite the popular topic of conversation for these two, but especially him. He brought it up three times on Saturday, and if I had a dollar for every time he suggested I marry a good friend of ours, based on the fact that we both prefer Honey Mustard on our Chicken McNuggets, well then I’d be a rich, rich woman. If only it were that easy.

Anyways, I digress.

So, I took these two to pick up the kitten, and we had a rockin’ good time. There was no better way to spend my Saturday afternoon then with these two, and bringing home my darling kitten. Still riding the high of spending time with them, and enjoying every waking moment (and the ones where we’re asleep together) with my kitten was a huge contributing factor to my joyful outlook this morning.

Also on Saturday, in addition to picking up a kitten, I picked up some new hair products. And. I. LOVE. Them!!! I had tried the Living Proof line this summer, when I wanted to try and keep my normally wavy hair frizz-free. I was kind of impressed with their No Frizz line but it still didn’t address my number one hair concern, which is that I have significantly less of it than I used to years ago. Battling Celiac Disease for a few years has left me with hair that falls out full strand at the drop of a hat. I used to have enough hair to only be able to wrap a binder around it once, or maybe twice. These days, I’m lucky if I can claim it only wraps three times. I miss my thick, full, luscious head of hair. And yes, I’m vain about it, and I don’t care. Hair is a woman’s crowning glory, and having had everything from Katie Holmes bob short to touching my elbows long I can say that I really, really like when my hair is long, and thick, and glossy and Texas big. And for the past few years, that has not been the case. So in my quest to return to a semblance of my hair’s former glory, I decided to try a new product line from Living Proof called Full. The amazingly thick, voluminous, shiny and touchable/not stiff results were the second contributing factor to today’s great mood. Seriously it was a great hair day. Thank you Living Proof.

Fast forward to some soup I made. Last night, in a fit of domesticity (blaming the kitten for making me want to be home more), I made Chicken Tortilla Soup Of Liiiifffeeee!!!!!!!! as Jen would call it. Really, it’s the most basic, simple soup you’ll ever make, but it tastes so good, and I was craving something spicy after all the Thanksgiving leftovers. So I whipped up a batch, and I don’t know what I did right this time, but it was even better than ever before. I brought a container of it for lunch, and was sitting in my cube, quietly “MMMMMM”ing to myself, enjoying the third reason I thought I was pretty much awesome today. When…. Disaster struck.

As I was coming to the bottom of my bowl of soup, I noticed there was still some cheese left unmelted in those remaining mouthfuls and so, thinking of my darling kitten and wondering how lonely she was home alone, I absentmindedly walked over to the microwave, and popped it in for another minute. Then I, again absentmindedly, pulled the container out of the microwave when it was done and walked back to my cube, where I proceeded to tip my head back to drink it down, sans spoon, slurping up those last few bites. As soon as it hit my tongue though, I felt like my mouth had been set on fire. IT WAS SOOOO HOT!!!!! My gut instinct was not to swallow it discreetly, nor to spit it out back into the container, but to spew it out like a whale coming up for air and spewing chunky red soup out of their blowhole, while simultaneously throwing the container up in the air. Now the last action, in all honesty, had no rhyme or reason. It was my tongue that was being burnt, not my hands, but for some reason, my hands also reacted, and before I knew it, soup was in the air, and the bowl was coming hurtling down from space like a Tupperware comet, heading straight for my open bottle of Wild Cherry Diet Pepsi. Before I knew it I was covered in liquid molten tomatoey chicken goodness - Full hair, pretty sweater, well fitting pants, desk, monitor, keyboard reports and all – everything was covered in soup. What wasn’t swimming in soup was now covered in pop. It was quite the mess, as soup and pop mixed on the desk, rapidly streaming off onto the floor. I hurried to upright the pop bottle, but as I reached for my napkins to stop the flow downward onto the carpet, I took it down again with my elbow. It was at that moment that my new coworker decided to peek over the cube and ask “Are you ok? What’s going on over there?” Oh man dude, you really couldn’t have just stayed sitting down and emailed me? Really??? That’s what IM is for!

So, I stood up, threw some napkins down on the mess to both hide and abate it, and managing to avoid eye contact with him mumbled out an “I’m fine”, which with my newly scorched tongue probably sounded more like “Ahhm Paaawmmm”. Then I rushed off to the bathroom, where I caught a glimpse of myself, and wouldn’t you know it, in addition to being covered in red soup, my hair was wet and sticky, and I had a big chunk of chicken on my shirt. Chicks for the chest.

Anyways, I’m cleaned up now. My hair is greasy and flat and I’m pretty sure it smells like cumin and queso fresco now, but hey at least it’s drying. My sweater is splotchy where I’ve wiped the soup away with paper towels, leaving behind the telltale white paper towel lint trails that practically scream “Look at me, I’ve spilled something and tried to clean it up in the ladies room!”. My pants are also splotchy, with more snowy little tattle-tales, all the more obvious on black than on olive green. And my tongue may never be the same. I think it’s the size of a Porterhouse Steak right about now. My desk is wiped up, but slightly sticky and smelly, and I’m scared to talk to the IT guy and admit that all my electronics were baptized in a healthy dose of Chicken Tortilla Soup, though if I offer to bring him some tomorrow maybe he’ll show me a little mercy.

I guess it just goes to show, both to myself, and to anyone else who may suffer from the delusions that I’m a classy broad – no matter how hard I try, I will always be more Lucille Ball than Martha Stewart. I am not a graceful, debonaire, cool as a cucumber type AT ALL. Nope, you’re talking to the kind of girl you just can’t take anywhere, unless you’re in waders and really want a good laugh. Pride comes before a fall, but the fact that I have any pride left after a lifetime of mishaps, spills and blunders is either a miracle or a testament to the enduring nature of human vanity. Really, who did I think I was???

I used to be a girl with good hair, a pretty sweater and a delicious lunch. Now I’m just me again. And that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

Thoroughly Thankful For A Week Of Thankful Things

2010-11-23T13:38:00.015-06:00

There's a lot going on this week, but I can't think of one bit of it that's not lovely. Well except the fact that I have to come into work on Saturday, but even that is overtime, and I'm ok with that too.

Let's run through the week and I'll break it down for you:

Monday - I got to watch the FBC kids - a lot of them. I had one of them on my shoulders and two of them on my lap at one point last evening, as we watched a movie. I accidentally taught S the phrase "Squishy Butt" which in her tiny little two year old voice was the cutest thing ever. And I remembered, as I often do when I see these kids, how blessed with community and love I really am. How could I ever be lonely or sad in my singleness, when it affords me the opportunity to spend time with these kiddos and love on them?

Tuesday - Dinner with a good friend, and finally the long anticipated showing of Harry Potter 7.1. There are not a lot of people I would wait to see this movie for or with. I almost caved last week and went by myself on Friday. But it will be worth it to watch it with the only other person who's a big of a HP geek as I am. And drinks & happy hour apps to start the evening off doesn't hurt either.

Wednesday - My sixth favorite day of the year (1. Christmas, 2. Fourth of July, 3. My birthday, 4. New Years Day, 5. Thanksgiving, 6.....) the day before Thanksgiving, which translates into Hymn Sing & Pie Social at church!!!! I am so blessed to be part of this church, and after years of running, years of feeling like I love God but am not so pleased with His Bride, I can finally say and see that He has brought me to the place I belong. I have fought it, and still cringe at the thought of commitment to being part of a church body (commitment to anything freaks me out really, but especially commitment to a church, when it was church that burned me so bad last time around). But I cannot deny that I love this group of people and their heart for the Lord and each other. And when we get together and sing hymns in the church basement, tell what we're thankful for and then eat pie together, I not only feel transported back about 60 years, but I feel full of love and gratitude and joy as I look around at the beautiful, shining faces of people I love and look forward to seeing and doing life with.

Thursday - Thanksgiving. With the J's. And all the fun and love and comfort and tradition that entails. I am thankful to the Lord all year long for bringing me these friends who are closer to me than my own family, and who embody all that I ever wanted but was never blessed with. But I feel it most succinctly at the holiday season as we gather together and love Him and each other in a way I have never found anywhere else. It only serves to remind me that He answers prayers in a big, giving way sometimes that exceeds our wildest expectations or dreams. I couldn't ask for a better fake family than them.

Friday - The 2nd Annual FBCYG Black Friday Girls Breakfast & Shopping Extravaganza. Or another term for why I must be out of my mind. Last year another female youth sponsor and I took the Youth Group girls out shopping and to breakfast at Perkins the day after Thanksgiving. It. Was. Chaos. I do not expect that this year will be any different, as a matter of fact, seeing's how I'm the only female youth sponsor, and we have more girls coming this year than last, I imagine it will be nothing less than sheer madness. Yet, I love these kids, and they got really excited last week when I reminded them about this event. I know they're going to have a good time, and I know I will too, despite the raging migraine and aching feet I anticipate. I do love them, and am looking forward to spending time with them, and that makes me really happy. And here you thought I was going to say the shopping, didn't you?

Saturday - Well yes, I have to work. But Saturday will be the apex of my week, and the one thing I've not been able to keep my mind away from for the last two weeks. My kitten comes home. Yep, It's Kitten Come Home Day!!! Come home kitten, it's time for you to come to your new home. Come on home kitty-cat-kitten, home come you. If it were a football game, it'd be Kitten Homecoming or the Kitten Bowl! I'm so excited I can think of nothing else. Every day I look forward to it with new anticipation and impatience, and I feel like a kid before Christmas. I have to work, yes, but as soon as I get out of there, I'm hauling ass over to St. Paul and gettin my kitten. And he's comin' home!

Sunday - Well in all honesty, I really hadn't thought about it. But I'll probably take a nap, and after the week I've had won't that be the best activity of all?

So you see, I have a lot to be thankful for this week. And a whole lot to look forward to. It's gonna be epic, and I am ready to dive right in! And that's my story and I'm stickin' to it.

The Final Countdown - Da da da dum, da da da da dum, da da da dum, da da da da da da dum!

2010-11-19T11:38:00.012-06:00

Despite the ginormous proliferation of mass consumerism known as shops & radio stations ushering in Christmas before Thanksgiving has even got here, I can honestly say that this year, Christmas has snuck up on me.

It was only just today, on my way into work, as I scrolled past George Michael bleating about Last Christmas, that I realized that there are only 7 days left till I can officially break out the Christmas decorations and start playing decent Christmas music (none of this overplayed Christmas Shoes crap!). Which is weird, because I have been aware that Christmas is approaching - to be more to the point, I even bought a new ornament the other day and have been thinking about my game plan for decorating my new space. Yet, it's rapid approach, and the fact that Black Friday (which really ought to be renamed Red & Green Friday) is just a week away, has caught me so offguard that had I realized it, I would've been counting down when we were still in the double digits.

I must say, I am so excited to have my own little place, yep all my very own, to decorate for Christmas! Though I miss the beautiful flagstone fireplace and mantle that I enjoyed the last two years, not to mention the large space that was perfect for entertaining (A sidenote: One of my favorite Christmas memories of all times was when Jen & Kitty & the girls came over on a Sunday afternoon, and we built a beautiful roaring fire, pulled our armchairs in front of it and over steaming mugs of cocoa they wrote the now infamous MN Max rap, while the girls watched Rudolf downstairs. But I digress), for the first time in a long time, I can bust out ALL the ornaments and garland I want, and pretty much make the place look like Buddy The Elf threw up a HoHoMocha inside my apartment. This thought does more than excite me, it inspires me to new and obscene levels of anticipatory Christmas decorating.

And my inspiration is really from one of the best people I can even think of - my greatly missed MawMaw Jo-Jo. Now this is a woman who knew how to decorate for Christmas! One of the things I loved most about her was that when it came to the holidays and her personal grooming, the woman didn't do anything halfheartedly. Boxes and boxes of Christmas decorations were brought out, including her beloved collection of Macy's Christmas bears, which were posed lovingly in a corner of the living room. PawPaw Kenny was set to string lights from every available surface, inside and out. I can just see him now, big bald head and a red Christmas sweater, climbing the ladder. There were snow globes and picture frames and tchockies and garland and red and green everywhere.

And every year she'd bake pan after pan of Christmas cookies, wrapping them lovingly in red and green tissue and nestling them inside round tin after round tin, gifts for her friends and neighbors. My favorite holiday treat of MawMaw's was Sausage Balls, and I intend to bring those back with a vengeance this holiday season. I remember they used to give me a wicked case of heartburn, but oh man they're so good going down. MawMaw also had a son who worked at the White House and every year for Christmas he'd send her the official White House Christmas ornament. She had loads of them, and every year they sparkled from her tinsel decked tree, glittering prettily in their crystal charm.

I can barely think of MawMaw and not cry, I miss her so much. But especially at the holidays (and during any Lakers game), I think fondly of her, miss her like crazy, and am inspired to carry on in the gung-ho-ness of her traditions. There will be nothing little about my Christmas decorating this year, and like MawMaw, I will make no apologies for that fact.

But the other thing that MawMaw taught me, and that I cherish as a truth of who she was, is that Christmas isn't just the time to celebrate the Lord's birth, but to spend reminding the people in our lives how important they are to us. Even when PawPaw got sick, and MawMaw and him could barely afford their prescriptions, she always had a present for the ones she loved at Christmas, even if it was something of sentimental value to herself, that she was passing on. She always wore a smile, and a red turtleneck, even when she herself was wasting away to skin and bones. Remembering her smiling like that, and the love in her heart that shone like the lights on the tree might just be my very own Christmas Shoes/Hallmark Movie moment. The lessons of love that MawMaw and PawPaw shared with me at Christmas, and the unabashed love that they showed me will forever be buried in my heart, treasured as dearly as frankincense, gold and myrhh.

One of my favorite bloggers, Centsational Girl, wrote this, this week, in her post about throwing a stress-free Christmas party:

"You know that scene at the end of ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ when George Bailey looks around at all his friends and family and Harry toasts, "To my big brother George, the richest man in town!’ It chokes me up every single time! You too? The moment in the film is about the importance of friends and a purpose filled life, but here’s what I always get from this classic: it doesn’t matter how elaborate or modest your home or your lifestyle, the best moments of the holiday season come from the togetherness and good spirits felt from surrounding ourselves with the ones we love. It has nothing to do with money."

I think MawMaw would agree. So as Black Friday approaches, and I think of all the people out there braving malls and fighting crowds, one thought makes my heart skip a beat. It's not a sale, it's not a discount, or the thought of presents under a tree. It's the memories I have in my heart of time spent with them, and the knowledge that there are only 7 more days till I can officially break out my Christmas decorations, put on some Nat King Cole, and serve myself up a serving of peppermint hot cocoa in a tall Christmas mug while looking through pictures of the good old days, spent in MawMaw & PawPaw's living room. I know it will be with a tear in my eye, for missing them, that I hang my lights alone this year (well me and the kitten that is). If you're reading this and all this nostalgia and romance of spirit appeals to you and you wanna come over and lend a helping hand, then friend, let's celebrate friendship and Christmas together. Just know that I might make you wear a red sweater and climb the ladder for me, is all.
And that's my story, and I'm stickin' to it.

10 Things I'm Loving Right Now!

2010-11-12T16:33:00.018-06:00

They're random, varied, and all of them have me a little bit excited.

1. HP7.1: Words cannot describe my level of excitement at the soon to be released first part of the final chapter in Harry Potter history. Can. Not. Describe. Let's just say I've never dressed up for a movie premier before, but I started planning my costume for this epic night a month ago. Yeah.

2. Sahale Snacks : I love nuts. Especially when they're glazed, such as candied pecans, or maple roasted anything. Sahale Snacks take this slight culinary obsession to a new level, with their imaginative and gourmet blend of glazed nuts. The Soledad blend is my absolute favorite - it's glazed Almonds with apple, flaxseeds, balsamic vinegar and crushed red pepper. And it's absolute addicting. If you can find any of the Sahale products, get them - I've only seen them at certain Starbucks and at Lifetime Cafe. It's worth stocking up when you find them, trust me.

3. Water Bobble Treehugger.com calls this the best water bottle ever invented, and I'd have to concur. Well maybe it's not the absolute best, but it's pretty darn close. With a built in, replaceable carbon filter, it's also BPA free, made in America out of recycled materials and has a ton of fun different colors to choose from. And it's under $15. Water Bobble is a good thing.

4. ExfoliKate: I'm an exfoliating junkie. I know most estheticians would probably tell me I shouldn't, but I exfoliate almost every single day. And when I don't, I feel the difference in my skin. That being said, this is by far the best exfoliating scrub I've ever tried in my life. Seriously, it's like no other. When I first tried it, I'd been on an allnightgirlfunbingebender with my good friend J, where we'd stayed up all night, wearing lots of funky tranny makeup, drinking too much wine and pretty much doing things that made my skin look like the dullness fairies took a crap on it the next day. I had crows feet I'd never seen before. So tired and depressed I went to Sephora, and sensing my mild desperation this is the remedy they prescribed me - ExfoliKate. Even though they said that creator Kate Sommerville was known as the facialist to the stars, and that ExfoliKate is just like having a session with her in office, I was a bit skeptical at first. But for $20 I was willing to give it a try. Now I worship this little tube, and would probably cry if someone broke into my home and took it. After the first time I used it, my skin glowed, and had a baby soft texture. Even better, the effects lasted well into the next day, and I've seen a dramatic increase in smoothness, texture and glow, as well as pore reduction since using it. You can choose to stick with your $3 tube of St. Ives Peach Pit Scrub, but take it from a woman who looks years younger than she really is - ExfoliKate will change your life!

5. Tights With Open Toed Pumps: I used to think I couldn't pull off this look, and now I just don't care. It's that devil-may-care attitude that actually pulls of this funky, artsy, fashionable statement so well. But for those of us who need a cheat sheet, this Lucky link helped me out a ton too!

6. All the new youth group kids: They're weird, they're loud, they're kids and I love them!

7. The Bird & The Bee - Diamond Dave, remember that song? Well, turns out that the Bird & The Bee aren't just responsible for that one awesome song, they've made many. Including, get this, a tribute to Hall & Oates (you knew it was just a matter of time, didn't you?). But my personal favorites happen to be their Bee-Gee's tribute version of How Deep Is Your Love and their version of Sara Smile, Rich Girl and Love Letter To Japan. Seriously, they're lovely and wonderful and catchy, and are on my daily playlist.

8. Ideas from Centsational Girl - I think I need to credit my friend KA for finding this blog, but ever since I discovered the link to it from her blog, I check it probably twice a week. It's seriously a DIYer's dream. Not only does she post great DIY ideas but walks the reader through some of the nuances of recreating and refinishing old furniture into great, one of a kind pieces, including various options for the same piece (kind of like those Choose Your Own Ending books liked in grade school). Her taste is Manhattan classy with a vintage twist, and she posts great photos, both of her finished projects as well as pieces, places and things that she gathers inspiration from. Great site for the decorating gal on a budget!

9. Martha Stewarts Winter Squash Dip - I'm definitely making this for Thanksgiving, and then I'm gonna grab the bowl, a box of FlipSide crackers and go hide in the corner eating the whole thing and watching football. True story. It's so good, and the chipotle peppers give it a great kick that really makes the dip! Don't leave them out, even if you're tempted to, it won't be the same without them!

10. Owls - I feel like I hopped on this trend wagon a little late, since I'm starting to see them everywhere. But seriously, those huge saucer eyes are so retro cute. I'm really loving adding them to unexpected places, like a subtle brass owl ring from Target, or this adorable umbrella holder from Two's Company!

A Change Of Scenery

2010-11-06T11:57:00.003-06:00

I'm in a flipping great mood today. I can't pinpoint exactly why, though I can name off a few or ten things that might be contributing to it. Thing is though, they're not exactly anything new, and so I'm left wondering what it is within that has changed. No doubt about it though, something has, and I'm in a much better mood and perspective for it.

It's a gorgeous fall day, the sun is shining, the sky is clear and the air is crisp. I have a brand new pair of Minnetonka Moccasins in a rich jewel shade of purple to wear, and the suede is soft as butter (PLUS, they were on sale, for only $23.90 at Nordstrom's Half Yearly Sale - who doesn't love sale shoes, right?). I taught hospitality class this morning, and the lesson I wrote was a keeper - deep in the rich theology of opening our hearts, lives and homes to those in need, and showing Christ's love to a world around us. Plus we made a delicious Winter Squash dip that had just the right hint of roasted garlic, olive oil and chipotle peppers. I'm snacking on the leftovers as we speak. I got to spend a few minutes this morning kissing on the kids I love, and rocking little babies as they slept. And later, I get to take a Costco trip with Michelle - which I don't just love for the samples, and the $1.50 hot dogs, but for the time I get to spend with her, just warehousing store browsing. Yesterday I started my new job, and I like it, and see great potential in it, for growth, being challenged and feeling productive. Oh, and there's a paycheck in there somewhere too, that's not half bad.

All of these things are great, and good in themselves, and shallow as it may sound, sometimes these things make me happy (yes, shoes make me happy!). But my mood today goes far beyond just happiness, into a soul-blessedness that is permeating my very mood and causing me to hum songs to myself. This is a feeling I haven't experienced in weeks, nay almost months, and I'm so grateful for it I could just squeal.

I know I said I don't know from whence it comes, but I do at least know how to identify it. I am blessed. And as I learned this week, blessedness is a joy of spirit that comes not from the things in life that make us happy, but from the work of God moving both in and through us. Joy is something we can't get or make for ourselves, it is the result of this blessedness, and blessedness itself is a gift from God. I'm learning that though there are things I can do to make myself happy, shoes, babies, books, naps, beautiful fall days and remembering the smiles on faces of friends I love, blessedness comes only from God. And it is a result, a consequence even, of living in His mercies, His characteristics of mercy, grace, humility, peace and love. I can ask Him for these things, and seek and pursue them in my life, but unlike finding a pair of shoes on sale and snatching them up, being blessed is a character of our spirit, not something physical that we can own or lay claim to or even stumble upon. It is a choice, just as we must make the choice to mourn with those who mourn, be pure in heart, seek peace and pursue and hunger and thirst after righteousness. And unlike the things I do in life to make myself happy, it is eternal in value, and is something I can share with the world around me. Or at least I hope that my joyful little spirit today is contagious, and rubs off on those I see.

Today is a good day. It's a day wherein nothing has really changed. Yes, a few life circumstances are different - finally having a job for instance. But overall, my life is the same in content as it was yesterday, and the day before, and the week before that. What's different is my heart, and my realization that to embrace true joy, I must be willing to make the decision to live in a mindset of hungering for blessedness today. I've asked my God for it, I've tried to open up my life to being a conduit for it, and today, I'm actually feeling it. It. Is. Such. A. Good. Feeling!!!

Now, there is a $1.50 hot dog with my name on it somewhere up in Maple Grove, so I better get to it. That's my story and I'm stickin' to it.

The Declaration Of Independance

2010-11-01T18:39:00.003-06:00

I'm kinda pissed off, and here's why - it has to do with relationships. You see, I've heard a lot of talk recently about people being set up. I've heard it from single friends, who are being set up (and sometimes frustrated by it) and I've heard my married friends talk about it, as in "Who can we set up So&So with?", and I've just been hearing it around a lot lately. And I'm just saying, right here, right now, that it's time to get something straight people:

Being single is not a disease. It's not an affliction. It's not a curse. It's not a drag. It's not a bother. Being single is a gift. It is a privilege. An opportunity. And I'm here to write the Singles Declaration of Independence! For me, and for all my awesome single friends out there who are tired of being considered second-class citizens in the social hierarchy of relationships, for every single person out there who's tired of hearing how being single must suck so badly, this is for you!

A few weeks ago, a conversation I overheard got me thinking about this subject, of how we view and treat the single people around us. I happened to overhear a conversation between one of my good friends and one of our mutual friends' mother. Said mutual friend happens to be a great guy, and happens to be single. The mother of the mutual friend was singing the praises of her son, and my friend was concurring, as well she should, that he is quite the catch. They were going on and on about how any woman would be lucky to get a great guy like him and how they can't believe he's still single. Then they started to speculate as to why he'd never tried online dating before, and my friend actually made the suggestion to his mother that she get him a subscription to a Christian online dating service for Christmas. At which point I think I audibly choked. Now, I'm friends with this guy, and I'm pretty sure that's the last thing he wants in his Christmas stocking this year, but I could be wrong. But I'm pretty sure I'm not.

Here's the thing folks, what started off as an innocent enough conversation, praising a praiseworthy guy, slipped down a treacherous slope pretty quickly. It went from innocent, to speculative, to manipulative, all within about 5 minutes. And the guy they were talking about, well he's none the wiser, and now a little bit at their mercy, since they're choosing to take his relationship status into their own hands. Grrr!!!!

But that's not the real travesty of the situation. I think one of the saddest things about this situation was the utter lack of regard for this guy's feelings that were being displayed. It was bordering on disrespect. He is choosing to be single, and instead of upholding him in his decision, they were trying to find ways to get around it. By doing so, they were implying. whether they realized it or not, that his decision isn't the right one, and that he must not really be happy or satisfied in it. After all, who would choose to be single, right? You know, I'm 250% sure that this guy, if he wanted to, could go out and date anyone he wanted to right now. But the fact that he's not dating anyone says to me, well that he doesn't want to date anyone. And shouldn't we all respect that?

And the point that my conclusion makes is this - any of us single people, if we wanted to, could be dating someone right now. If. We. Wanted. To. It's a sad fact that I could dial up any number of low-life ex-boyfriends and say the right words to worm my way back into their lives. If I wanted to. I could go online and meet some guy who's booklist is limited to Guns & Ammo or who feels that the three things he can't live without are "Guns, Sports Bars & Makin' Love" and say the right words and flash the right smiles and get me a date or two or three right now. And I'm not even that cute. Think about those men and women who are actually considered a catch by popular standards!

What's really going on here, is that for the first time in a hundred years, we're encountering a generation who knows deep down that it's really better (as in quality of life better; more fun, more enjoyable & rewarding) to be single, than to compromise their high standards to date someone for the mere sake of being in a relationship. It's just that our mothers and their mother's mother's and so on and so forth may not have had the freedom of that choice, in the way that we do now. Being single 50 years ago was such a social stigma and personal dilemna of constraint in all areas of life that hardly anyone would have chosen to remain unmarried. Women who were unmarried had a much harder time financially, socially and in numerous realms of life. It just wasn't a feasible or pleasant option. Not if you could help it. And for those who couldn’t manage, for whatever reasons, to even snag someone to like them, well they were labeled with such disparaging terms as spinster, old maid, or even (shudder at the thought) crazy cat lady. They were looked down upon, as deficient, or lacking.

Yet here were are, our mother's daughters, and for the first time in decades, we don't need a man to be accepted as an integral or contributing member of society. We don't need a man to take care of us financially, or emotionally, or physically anymore. Nor do our men need women around for the mere sake of keeping a home, or bearing children. We have progressed to the point that as a generation, we feel the freedom of not needing to be in a relationship to feel fulfilled in any part of our life (well other than sex, but that's a different story for a different time). We are capable of gleaning all the greatness out of life in our existing relationships and this is fulfilling enough that we can find contentment in our life without compromising our desires or wishes. Dating is obsolete as a necessity to having or doing the things we want to do or living the way we want to live. And the beauty of that situation is that it affords freedom. And freedom insures that we view relationships as a gift, and a blessing, rather than as an insurance policy.

Ideally, I’d much rather enter a dating relationship with someone knowing that they’ve swept me off my feet. I want to meet someone who's charm, laugh, intelligence, heart for the Lord, sense of humor and kind eyes remind me why it was good that I waited. I never want to be with someone only to make excuses for them, both to others, or to myself, and to live knowing that I have chosen a life of settling for mediocrity, rather than facing my own fears of being alone. Frankly, I love being alone sometimes, so why would I give up the devil I know, for the devil I don't? Why would I ever want to compromise the standards I’ve built up through years of solid friendships with godly people, for anything less than what I've learned is best? I don’t know one accomplished, content man or woman of today who would purposefully choose mediocrity in other areas of life. We aim high in our education, our careers, our spiritual growth, so it stands to reason that we should be able to choose to aim high when it comes to our love life as well. By choosing to be single, rather than date for the sake of dating, we're aiming high, shooting for the moon, and hoping to land in the stars. We are choosing to hold out for a perfect gift from God, someone who truly deserves our patient years, rather than trolling in a constant state of desperation or resigning ourselves to the well-meaning but often blinded set ups of prying relatives. And I think that is an honorable and noble thing.

I would be lying if I said that being single is always fun. It's not always a walk in the park. There are questions to answer, like the one the other night from my dad, when he asked me if I had a boyfriend, and when I said no, then proceeded to ask me if I had a girlfriend. I'd rather not face ignorant relatives who can't comprehend that I would choose to be alone, and would rather accept me being homosexual, than as being picky.

There are times I wish I did have a husband around. Like last night, when the Nyquil I had taken to abate my cold was kicking in. I realized my legs were like leaden bricks and I was too tired to even get up from bed and grab a glass of water to quench my cottonlike mouth. I just wanted a glass of water, but was lingering between sleep and wakefulness, and couldn't get up. Would a sweet and loving husband have done it for me, got me that glass of water? Yeah, probably. There are times when I really get the urge to write nice, encouraging little notes and put them in somebody’s lunch sack. Or drop in at work with a plate of cookies for that special someone, just to make their day. Could I do that for a boyfriend or husband? Heck yeah. Knowing that we’re created to be relational creatures, by a loving God who paired up pretty much everything here on earth, makes it easier to deal with those feelings as they arise. But if you're thinking of lecturing me on how God said it wasn't good for us to be alone, please try to remember that though we are blessed in our singleness, we don’t always need you to be out crying against it, for us. We can do that pretty decently on our own. If we wanted to.

And really, any minor and fleeting challenges’ aside, by and large being single is truly the gift that the Apostle Paul described it as. Only recently has the realization of what the freedom of singleness looks like occurred to me. Some of this realization comes from more time spent with my married friends. I applaud them in their dedication to a life of self sacrifice, discipline, compromise and hard work. They ones I spend the most time with do it so well, and so beautifully, that it too shows a side of God's relationship with us and Himself that brings Him glory.

Yet, as I look at the time and energy and devotion they spend, I also take a look at my life, and know that it is my singleness that buys me the freedom to do all the wonderful things I get to do in it. Singleness buys me the time I get to devote to the youth group kids and Sunday School kids I love, outside of Wednesday nights and Sunday mornings. Singleness buys me the time to read fifteen books on hospitality, to prepare for the class I get to teach. It buys me the time to sign up for every dance class I can take, and to do so with other single friends who have the time to boogie along with me. Singleness buys me the time I get to spend on friends' sofas, whether they're married or single, or on my own chair just spending time with Jesus, who is always the best company of them all.

This is time I would never have to spare if I were in a relationship. Not because it robs me of freedom, but because relationships are hard work, and they require attention. That time, energy, devotion and attention are items that single people have the luxury of choosing where else they’d like to spend it. There are so many opportunities and chances we get to take, that our married friends don’t, and that is truly a gift. And while we recognize that they are blessed in their own ways, we too, contrary to popular belief, are blessed. And most of the time, if you take a second to ask us, we're pretty darn content about it too.

I'd like to make one thing clear here. Please don’t get me wrong. I’m not dissing marriage or my married friends or anyone who's dating or in a relationship. What I am doing, or trying to do, is #1, compare apples to oranges, to show you, the reader, that, in all fairness, two distinctly separate and different things should not be compared to each other, and #2, send out a cry that it's high time that those of you who are inclined to matchmaking as the solution for all our problems, might consider upholding us single people in our decision to be single as a better alternative.

So, next time you are inclined to set us up, please stop and think to yourself, are you words better spent praising the work we’re doing with the free time our singleness affords? Next time you’re tempted to feel sorry for us, because we’re in our 30’s (or however old we may be) and still single, step back and look at our faces. Are we smiling as we serve? Are we fulfilled and joyful in our friendships? Are we really bemoaning the state of our relationship status on Facebook, or are you? Most of the time we’re not the ones who are so unhappy about our present state of affairs, for those that truly are, usually go out and do something about it, and don’t remain in our ranks too long. I would like to urge you, next time concern for our lack of dating strikes you, instead of offering to arrange a dinner between us and your eligible 50 year old, basement dwelling nephew, invite us to dinner with yourself instead, so we can get to know you, and more importantly, you can get to know us more. I think you might be surprised to find that we’re a pretty decent bunch, just the way we are.

And that’s my story, and I’m stickin’ to it.

Pretty Things

2010-10-25T16:44:00.003-05:00

Sometimes I just like to look at pretty things. Ok, that didn't sound creepy at all.

What I mean is... I like pretty things. I like to wear them, I like them in my apartment, I like to see them in museums, and on postcards, etc. Yeah, I'm all girl, all the way. I think I have totally feminine taste, and I'm not apologetic about it.

It's awesome being a woman! We get to wear all the good stuff, like vintage jewelry, and cashmere sweaters in fruit-pop colors, and headbands with feathers on them and russet colored suede pumps. Guys get what? Khakis? (In all fairness, you guys get ties - and ties can be so pretty and fun, and sometimes I envy that you get to wear them, and I hope that if God ever brings me a husband, he'll let me buy ties for him, even if he never wears them, but bonus points if he does.)

Till then, this is the ring that made me sigh with the contentment of being a woman who can enjoy pretty things. It's a style dating back to 1890, and is Amethyst, which is my favorite gem (used to be garnet, but people change). Vintage is awesome. Rings are awesome. Pretty is awesome. And being a woman - well that's super awesome!

Thoughts On Hope, Faith & the Fine Art of Panicking!

2010-10-21T11:07:00.004-05:00

Hope versus Faith has been a huge intellectual and spiritual journey/battle for me this past year. As I've come to terms with a lot of let-downs, things that I've wanted for my life that have not happened, I've been wrestling with the smoky, hard to catch notion of hope and trying to balance it with the idea that faith is tangible, in its own way, and never a let-down.

As I've been thinking and praying and reading on this concept, no good answers have come to me, till last night. Last night, an old verse hit me in a new way, and I found my answer in something that feels like it was always in front of my face. Romans 5:4. It was there all the time, I just didn't see it, even though I read this verse in my quest for answers, many a time. Maybe I just wasn't ready.

See, Romans 5:4 says "And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out His love into our hearts, by the Holy Spirit, who He has given us." Well it's more like verses 2-5 but....

.... You see, every time I had read it this summer, I was focusing on the whole building of character through sufferings and perseverance, and how the outcome is hope. But the question I was asking myself, nah, the statement I was cynically telling myself, is that when we suffer, and persevere, our outcome is empty, because hope is empty. What good is suffering if the reward we get is an empty hope, a promise of "Maybe"? I was skipping the next part, verse 5 where we are told why hope doesn’t disappoint, because I didn't want to believe that hope could comfort me. It is after all an intangible. Hope, for me this year, has been nothing but a big, fat let-down, so it's no comfort at all!

I turned 35 this year, and it was a difficult birthday. I've had to come to grips with the fact that I'm pushing 40, and the only thing I've got going for me is that maybe I can still pass for 29. I've wanted things in my life, heck I've wanted my life to look a certain way, and it has ended up looking and being so very different than what I could have ever hoped for. This here is my life - the life of a plain jane, a loudmouth, a single woman who toys with the idea of cats, but is too allergic, who's nice enough to be everyone's friend, but not pretty enough to be anybody's true love, who can't keep her foot out of her mouth or both feet on the ground, who must be content to hold other people's babies, and sing other people's children to sleep at night, who is frightfully unemployed, and can't find a job I'm excited about that wants to hire me, for my life! Who writes one heck of a run-on sentence! Where is the hope in all of this? This is not what I hoped for in my life.

For months I've been ignoring verse 5 and stubbornly looking God’s word in the face and saying "No God, you're wrong, hope does disappoint, because I am disappointed that the things I have hoped for have not come true." In my mind and heart, I’ve been able to be honest with myself, and say that faith always comes through. But that’s only because faith is something that I’ve believed to be grounded in God alone, unlike my three-wishes-from-a-genie misinformed notion of hope. Nowhere in the bible are we told to put our faith in the things of this earth that we want. We only put our faith in God and His goodness, as verse 1 of Romans 5 starts out by telling us. The only reason faith ever pans out is because it's always in God, and not in the things that we think will make us happy. Unlike what I’ve believed hope to be.

And that has made all the difference. You see, last night, as I was reading, I realized that the reason hope really doesn't disappoint, is because the hope we are called to have has it's basis in God, and the pouring out of His love in the Holy Spirit, into our hearts. Hope, as the bible explains it, isn’t for things. And it’s certainly not in things other than our heavenly Father. Paul doesn't say that we should have faith in finding love, or having babies, or getting a great job, or just not being a loser. That’s not what faith is. Nor does he say that we should hope for these things either. Really, in this context, the only thing he is saying about hope is that it’s born of suffering, is the result of great character and won’t disappoint because of God’s love. We hope, because we have seen His goodness. We hope because He's strengthened our faith. We hope not for things, but in Him.

You'd think this would have been pretty obvious to me at the beginning of this year, of this quest. That I could just read the verse, and get it. And maybe you readers have had this figured out the whole time. But I'm not the brightest light on the tree when it comes to this hope thing, or deep spiritual issues in general. It’s a good thing I can hope in a beautifully caring God who will never let me down, even if I do end up a crazy cat lady – I need all the help I can get! But the fact is, because I had been hoping for things, and not hoping in Him I just didn’t get it. I was looking for a magical wish granting quality, something to give me what I want, when truly, the thing I’d been looking for is a result of not getting what I want, it’s the beautiful result of a suffering heart. In which case, after the rejections and disappointments and failures of this year, well frankly, even of the past 35 years, I might be first in line in 2011 for a big heaping spoonful of hope.

So now I think I can go into whatever comes next with a changed, and better, perspective. Yes, I still hope everything turns out alright. I still hope to have my life slightly resemble the white picket fence vision I always wanted it to be. But I am not placing my hope in hope alone anymore. Hope is no longer than end, but more the means to get there. As for the end, well last night I saw God change my viewpoint and strengthen my faith through providing me much desired answers. I can rejoice today in a God that loves me enough to show me His goodness and how to walk with Him. And I know that He will be faithful to continue to do so.

In any case, this coming new year (yes, its right around the corner folks!) will be a life-changing one for me. I took a huge leap of faith yesterday, and the surface water of this step was, at first, exhilarating and exciting. But this morning I ended up in the deeper waters of panic! You see, after months and months of being unemployed, and after the past few weeks plunging me into a very real bout of depression over the state of my life, I realized I couldn't just sit still waiting for something to happen anymore. So I took action and did something to move forward and realize a dream of mine. I applied at a local college, for full time classes starting January 10th, and am going to go back to school to get my degree to be a High School English teacher.

It's a long story how this all sorta came about, and I could blog about it.... but let's just say for now, that taking this step was the rope that was thrown to me as I wallowed in a great big pity-party for the last three weeks. Funny, how if I look at it, the rope was there all along. This action was borne from meeting with a friend this week, who is, in a real and tangible way, letting God use him for His Kingdom. He's someone who, after being unemployed for only a month, himself took a leap of faith and decided to go into full time ministry, and now is support raising. There I sat, across from him in Starbucks, feeling horribly convicted, and asking myself "What am I doing to serve the Kingdom of God? Or even to make my own life better?" I go on job interviews, I wait and I hope. But I wallow in the pity party that my all too long list of life failures has thrown for me. And I wanted to be more like him, more like the active, dynamic and seeking daughter I know God wants me to be.

So, I remembered the goal I set for myself, that if I hadn't found a job by the fall, I'd go back to school and do what it takes to pursue something I really loved. And there's not much I love more than high school kids and books and writing, so it seems like a natural fit. Plus, I want more than anything to impact the young people of today for the Lord, and to drive them towards His goodness and a closer walk with Him. And 18 years ago, a wonderful woman by the name of Diane Martinez was my High School English and Journalism teacher, and she impacted me in such a way that almost two decades later, I'm still inspired to follow in those footsteps.

But I gotta tell you this is one great big leap of faith. I’m gonna need a whole lotta faith that God will provide, and give me the means to provide for myself. Things that weigh on my mind, even on day 2 of this decision are student loans, financial aid, and the fact that I’ve never been the best student. I may tease a dear friend about his 7 years of college, but after this move, I’ll have him beat with a whole lot more than that! I'm downright panicky today, and I know that I will have many more days like this to come. About four years of them.

I am scared. But I have hope. And a new understanding of it. I have hope that God will come through and take care of the details that strike fear in me. I hope that He will make me a good student, and an even better FAFSA applicant. I have hope that no matter how crazy a step this may seem, that He will honor my desire to do something better with my life than sit around watching Dawson’s Creek reruns and hanging out at Jon & Michelle’s all day. And that sometime during these next few years in my life, as I seek a new career, I hope that in His goodness, He might see fit to fulfill some of those other hopes and dreams too. And even if He doesn't, I have a stronger sense of hope, and faith, that my life will still be alright. After all, in His faithfulness, through the pouring out of His love, by the Holy Spirit, for the first time in months, I can say that I have hope, and I'm darn glad about it.

The Art Of Hospitality

2010-10-05T15:17:00.004-05:00

This weekend begins the first incarnation of the Art Of Hospitality class at Faith. And I'm crazy nervous about leading it, but so fired up that I can hardly wait. I can't wait to share all that God has put on my heart with an amazing group of lovely women, all who bring joy to my heart in one way or another.

I first learned of the Art Of Hospitality class when a friend of mine taught it at my old church. She asked me to guest-teach one of the cooking sessions, and a few months later I was leading the class with her, and eventually took it over from her when he schedule got so busy she couldn't do it again. She had developed a curriculum that touched on the subject, but never really got in depth about it spiritually.

Since that time my understanding of the true nature of hospitality has grown exponentially. This isn't the same old lesson plan I taught years ago, about setting a nice table, and preparing a nice meal, and having some nice people over, with a few scripture references thrown in for good measure. Hospitality, I've learned in the time since, is a dirty deed, but somebody's gotta do it. And that somebody is the Bride of Christ.

You see, our culture, both secular and contemporary Christian, tries to tell us that hospitality is the same thing as entertaining, and that they are for all intents and purposes interchangable. This paints a picture of lacy tablecloths, and folded napkins, having your friends over for dinner and making sure the guest room has fresh sheets. Which maybe on some level hospitality includes. But when I say that hospitality is a dirty deed, it's because what it truly means is making ourselves vulnerable as we minister to, and care for, the physical needs of others. Others who may be on the fringes of society, undervalued, marginal, and lost. And yet, isn't that what we all have been spiritually, at one time? Sinners, fallen and forsaken, lost and alone. Yet taken in, and accepted into God's heavenly family.

For nine years now, I've been alone in a strange city - say what you want, coming from the warmth of a Latin-infused culture, the frigidity of the midwestern/Swedish experience can be really be intimidating at times. I've learned through both personal experience during that time, and through research as my passion on this subject grew, that true hospitality is the opening, not just of our homes, but of our lives, to others, and in an encompassing, nonjudgemental and generous way. This includes not just having them over for dinner, but having them become part of our lives, baggage and all.

As I've lived here, without family of my own, I've made friends, all of which I'm grateful for. But one couple in particular stands out in my heart and in my life, as being truly accepting, generous of heart, spirit and home, and have embodied the true spiritual nature of hospitality to me. They have truly become family to me - The J's. They've taken me in when I've had nowhere to stay. They've put up with the fact that I leave books and shoes and clothes everywhere, I come in late and I sleep in later. Yet they've given me a warm bed to sleep in, a hot meal, and a long hug, at the times I've needed it most. Some of the most meaningful, loving, and comforting moments of my past few years have been sitting with PJ, in her breakfast nook, just chatting about what God is doing over a cup of her delicious coffee. She and her husband have welcomed me, like my Father has welcomed me, into their family, and into their lives and have shared with me what they have. And in that, they have painted a warm, candlelight-glow-picture of spiritual hospitality and of my Father's heart. They've brought to life a concept that goes beyond entertaining, and includes so, so much more. That includes love.

As I get ready to teach this class again, I want to impart this message to the people who would honor me by showing up on a Saturday morning: That hospitality isn't about making the best or fanciest dishes. It isn't about knowing which fork is the salad fork, and where to put it when setting a table. It's not about just opening up your home on a Sunday afternoon. It's about opening up our lives to those who need their dignity and worth recognized, and who could use reassurance, love, respect and some physical, creature comforts. If there is anything I hope God graces me with being able to share, it's that.

And if we happen to make some killer Beer Cheese soup, or a phenomenal example of Beef Wellington in the meantime, all that much more fun. But this aspect of hospitality, making delicious food or making things pretty, I believe ministers to us. Sharing those dishes with others and experiences with others, is what we are truly called to and is what ministers to a lost, and hurting world in need. So, though it may not be much, this is my small gift, and I hope that when faced with someone who too is alone, lonely, hungry, cold or hurting, I can answer with a prompt and heartfelt "Here am I, send me". And then I want to send them home with some homemade Chicken Noodle Soup. Cuz true hospitality, the kind that the J's showed me, that our heavenly Father has shown us every day, is like Martha Stewart says "a good thing".

AM IN LOVE!!!

2010-10-05T14:47:00.001-05:00

Style = Perception + Confidence + Risk.

2010-10-05T13:35:00.005-05:00

In a million years I would never consider myself a "pulled together" person, with great style. Unfortunately, some of my friends seem to have this perception of me, and I swear to you, I'm not spouting off false humility here - I really don't know what I've done to deserve it. (But thanks, friendsies, for the compliments, I really do need the ego boost now & then) Really, I just think I'm a gal who thinks about clothing a little more than I should.

I also find it hilarious that the other day, while shopping for dishes at a local high-end retailer, not one, not two, but three women approached me and thought I worked there, and asked me for fashion advice. Not "What aisle are the over-the-knee boots on?", mind you, but "So, do you think I should try over-the-knee boots this year, and which ones are your favorites?" type of questioning. I blush!

Because, you see the thing is, I've been obsessed with fashion since I was a little girl. I remember my favorite thing to do, in third and fourth grade, was to make my own paper dolls, out of the cardboard inserts that came in my mom's pantyhose packages, and make them colorful, inventive little outfits out of computer paper and colored pencils. But for a girl who's mom dressed her till I was in the sixth grade, there wasn't a lot of fashion actually happening in my life, as much as in my imagination.

All throughout junior and senior high school, I definitely marched to the beat of my own drum. I look back now and I see that what I thought was "classy" and "elegant", by high school standards was probably really grandma-ish. And then there was the infamous "Elvis Costello" glasses incident. I distinctly remember being in the 8th grade, and seeing a pair of glasses in a Vogue magazine, and thinking they were top bananas. That year, at my annual optometrist visit, I begged and pleaded with my mom to let me get a pair just like them, and I did. Years later, I can see that for 2 long years in middle school, I looked like a miniature female version of Elvis Costello. Not hot. Imaginative and innovative, but not hot.

It was that imagination and risk that fueled my desire to be a fashion designer, well into my early twenties. After more research into the profession however, I let the growing insecurities of youth rob me of that dream. I realized that without a natural talent, and a fierce competitive drive, I'd never be able to hack it. And looking back, I can see that I believed I just wasn't that girl - the kind who was good enough to make it.

So, my history and love for fashion has been deep rooted my whole life, practically. Yet, even now, thirty-some odd years later, I still would never label myself as fashionable, or stylish, despite my slight obsession with it. That being said, every season, I always try to stay on top of the latest trends, while still utilizing what clothing I have in my closet. Yet, inevitably, I get drawn into one or two looks, and try to make them work for my annoying body type.
Every once in a while something works, and then, well you could say I'll run with it.

This season, fall, has got to be my favorite though. You can cover up!! You can layer!! Boots! Cardigans! Tights! Hats! YAY!!! Yet, it's still warm enough that I'm not limited by the confining fashion choices that Minnesota winters offer ("Do I want to wear this huge parka today, or that huge parka today?") This fall, I've decided to take a risk on skinny jeans, and let me tell you, it's one that has definitely paid off. I love them! What did I do before them? They look great with tucked in boots, and the proportions of them are perfect for the flowy, blousy kind of tops that hide all my insecurities and imperfections. Plus, I really do believe that maybe my legs are best bodily asset, so why not show them off?

In any case, taking risks on items, such as skinny jeans, isn't something that comes naturally to me, and so for inspiration I hit up all the good magazines, like Lucky, Glamour and Vogue (a perennial favorite since youth... I'll probably be 60 & still reading Vogue... thank you Anna Wintour, I love you!) for pictures of outfits that I can just copycat. And this season, one store/ad campaign has hit ALL the right notes for me. Piperlime.

For those of you who don't know, Piperlime started off as Gap, Inc's shoe affiliate, and only recently started venturing into fashion/clothing options as well. And OMG do they do it so well. I'm totally obsessed with their entire fall campaign, and am copycatting all the outfits in the ads, to phenomenal and bliss inducing results. So this, a huge shout-out to the Piperlime fall campaign, is the real reason for this rambling post. Just to say this one thing really - I love Piperlimes fall ad campaigns, and yes please sir, I'll take one of everything!!!!

Sidenote: The whole point of their ad, dubbed the "Let's Get Dressed" outreach btw, is that no one should have to schlub it in public, so for goodness sake ladies, put away the sweat pants, say goodbye to the ratty old tee-shirts, and class it up already. It's a fiery cry against the over-casualization of our nation! And frankly, I couldn't agree more! They've been getting a lot of flack for this "mean girl" approach to fashion too, mind you. Some recent tweets by the brand include "If the frienemy sees you out in public in your TV watching clothes, then the frienemy wins", and my personal favorite "Every time you wear sweatpants in public, a single guy leaves New York". Bahahahah!!! A little harsh, maybe, yet I can't say it didn't crack me up. One website actually went so far as to call their campaign bitchy, but admitted, that hey, it works. Bitchy, mean, whatever, it's definitely imaginative and hilarious, and really, there is a small hint of truth behind it.

Now, admittedly, this is a motto I only half-heartedly follow, being someone that twice in the last week has been out in public all day long in her Vikings sweatpants, a plain white tee shirt, a baseball cap and flip flops! The me of 20 years ago would be mortified at this laziness and probably throw a double-thick fall fashion issue of Vogue right at my head, and rightly so. But in my own defense, I think my reluctance to get completely on-board the "dress it up or just stay in" train is that after six months of being unemployed, I'm getting quite used to wearing my ratty old tee-shirts and sweat pants all the time and have become so accustomed to their comfort factor that I forget I'm actually in them before I make that Target run. And it is Minnesota, where let's face it, the fashion standards are way more lax than in my gloriously put-together hometown of LA. Still, I know that deep down somewhere in my soul there still resides a woman who believes you can be attractive at 7 in the morning, who knows that there are no ugly women, just lazy ones, and who longs to dress up every day for work, or dinner, or somebody or something. .

Sidenote to the Sidenote: Matter of fact, this morning, even though I was wickedly tired from a late night party, body parts aching and kinda crabby, I still managed to throw on my favorite skinny jeans, a pair of black buckled boots, a black cardigan, a plaid scarf, a headband, my favorite black military inspired coat, a fresh coat of lip gloss and go meet a friend in the wee morning hours to return his key thingie. As he pulled up to the meeting spot, still in what looked like his pajamas (unless he's taken to wearing wife-beaters in 50 degree weather for the fun of it), the first words out of his mouth were "Well at least one of us looks cute". The me of 20 years ago would be so proud. At that moment, the me of right now was kinda proud.

Anyways, back to the whole reason for this post - I digress. For those of you who've not seen any of the fall Piperlime ads, I'll be addenduming this post with some pics from the campaign. Read 'em and weep!!! (Hopefully you'll weep out of sheer emotional inspiration, and not because your sensitive little feelings were hurt by the blunt honesty of their ads). For now, just remember, those ads are mine to rip off, so don't copycat my fashion copycatting!!! Seriously. And one more time, for good measure - Oh how I LOVE PIPERLIME!

Thoughts on Kissing - Yeah, We're Going There Again

2010-09-16T10:59:00.005-05:00

So, the other day I posted some thoughts about kissing, and boundaries, and waiting for the right person, etc, etc, etc. Little did I know they would have the effect they did, on more than one person. Within the course of one day I had two good friends applaud me for my transparency and raw honesty, and a former pastor scold me for the bad example I was setting being so open about sexual issues (kissing? really?) as a youth sponsor, and a role model to young women.

In the heat of the moment, I took down the blog post, as I fed into the worry he generated about what the young people I love so much would think of me. But in hindsight, I realized, if anything, they'd know that they have a friend and mentor who can be honest about her desire to be kissed, her past mistakes of a few bad kisses, and her hopes that someday the right guy, and the right kisses will come along. I remembered that though a kiss is not just a kiss, sometimes, it's not the end of the world either. So I went to repost the blog entry, only to find out it was lost and gone forever. Maybe there's something good in that - because it made me revisit what I wrote, and mull over much, much more in my head.

You see, I had written that a kiss is NOT just a kiss. A kiss is something deeply personal, and intimate, between two people. Drew Barrymore, my fellow LA hippie girl, once said "Kissing - and I mean like yummy, smacking kissing - is the most delicious, the most beautiful, and the most passionate thing that two people can do. Bar none. Better than sex. Hands down." My friend JC commented the other day that not even prostitutes kiss, because of the intimacy of the act. But I think he's seen Pretty Woman too many times. Kissing, you see, is a big deal. And that's the point I think my former pastor was trying to make.

In my post, I copped up to the fact that I'd recently been kissed. Or as I like to think of it, my face had been hijacked - because it most definitely was not a kiss I initiated or invited. And in the end, frankly, it wasn't all that great of a kiss either. It was, in my very firm opinion, a waste of a kiss. A waste of a very precious, valuable thing - something I'm saving for someone who really deserves it. And it was also the end of the chances I was giving a guy I'd been seeing. Anyone who would steal a kiss from me, and not respect that my kisses are something I'm saving up doesn't deserve to date me, and would probably never respect me on other issues (such as boundaries) as well. I saw that, and I dumped him. Via text, but still.

If there is a bad example set in this moment, and in blogging about being kissed, all I can see that it would be is this - I went out with a guy, and gave him multiple chances, even though I think I knew in the back of my mind and in my heart, that he wasn't God's best for me. But I'm a pushover, a softie, a nice girl, and I believe everyone deserves a fair chance. Maybe only because I hope that someday some guy will give me a fair chance, even if I make a horrible first impression, or if at first he's not attracted to something about me. But, the real mistake I made in this situation, wasn't being kissed, wasn't writing about being kissed, it was putting myself in a situation with a guy who would steal a kiss from me and fooling myself into thinking that second best was good enough.

Ladies, my dear friends, and you young women who read my blog - know this: There are amazing, wonderful, godly, phenomenal guys out there, who love the Lord, and who will love you too. Please don't do like I did, and waste your time giving chances to guys that your heart tells you don't fall into that category. I think of the really quality guys I know - the M's and the T's and the J's among a few - and I know in my heart that these are guys who would never in a million years steal a kiss from a girl without her consent, and without a heart full of love and respect behind it. I am blessed, in an rich, overflowing way, with the example and friendship of God-fearing young men around me, and I can say, that any of them would be worth saving your kisses for. There are guys out there that are worth all the kisses in the world. Don't waste your time on the frogs who aren't.

Life is a wonderful gift we've been given. Every moment is packed with potential and possibilities to show God's love and grace to a hurting world in new and enriching ways. And all those cliches. But they're only cliche's because they're true. If I could tell the young women in my life one other thing, it would be this - don't sit around waiting to be kissed either. Go out there, and find someone hurting, someone doubting, someone without the love of the Lord, and let His love flow through you, maybe not in kisses, but in some other tangible way. Find a baby without a home, and kiss on them. Find an elderly person, in a home, and kiss their wrinkled hand. Find a way to give a kiss, your love, part of your life, to someone in need of Christ today. Those are kisses we absolutely should not save.

Psalm 85:10 says "Love and faithfulness meet together; righteousness and peace kiss each other." Proverbs 24:26 says "An honest answer is like a kiss on the lips". Five times the New Testament tells us to greet one another with a holy kiss, and yet I think 1 Peter 5:14 says it best, "Greet one another with a kiss of love. Peace to all of you who are in Christ." See, kisses are such a good thing!! In the right context, with the right motives, and for the right reasons.

I have peace with having been kissed last week. Because I know I didn't ask for it, or even want it, and because it was the catalyst to remember that I don't have to settle for a guy who won't respect my views on kissing, on faith or on anything else of great importance to me. Getting kissed by a guy I was considering with hesitation and doubt, and some regret, was enough to remind me that my kisses are precious, because they can be holy, and a means for good and joy. It's those kind of kisses that I will continue to save. In the meantime, I am okay with the kisses I've wasted, and the mistakes I've made, because I know I've learned my lesson, and am moving on with an attitude of righteousness in this area. Drew Barrymore also once said "Life is very interesting. In the end, some of your greatest pains become your greatest strengths." Who knew she was such a genius?

Maybe some day, God will bring along a great guy, who feels the same way about kissing and boundaries and holiness as I do. But I'm not betting the farm on it. Because even if I end up like Miss Barrymore/Josie Grossie (Never Been Kissed! Get it?? Anyone? Bueller?), being kissed is not the biggest deal in the world, nor is it the barometer for the love we have in our hearts, and are able to share. And sharing that love with the world around me is something no stupid guy, no former pastor with good intentions, no one at all, can stop me from doing. And that's my story, and I'm stickin' to it.

What You Can Say And What You Can't Say And Why That Sucks

2010-09-08T19:08:00.003-05:00

There are definitely some drawbacks to having your friends know about your blog. The first and foremost being that they read it. Ergo, if I have something I want to blog about, and it's going to be pretty obvious that it's about my friends, I just can't do it, no matter how many words-onto-paper I want to get out. It's not necessarily anything negative, but it could be pretty obvious, and embarrassing nonetheless.

There are times I want to chuck caution to the wind, live a life of complete and authentic transparency, and blog it anyways. My friend Kari says I'm definitely a "wear my heart on my sleeve" kind of gal, and while it's true, unlike Lady Gaga I have no Poker Face, I would hope that I'm at least a little mysterious and subtle at times. I doubt it though. I know I show my emotions much more than I should, and only wish I could hide them, making people wonder what's going on in this ticker of mine. I'm just not that girl. Blogging only makes it that much worse, because now instead of just guessing by the look on my face, my friends can read what I'm thinking word for word for lovely little incriminating word.

This is all to say - I'm struggling with some pretty intense emotions this week, and I really want to blog about it, because I have a lot to say, and some of it could be quite cathartic, and some of it relevant to what other's may be thinking or feeling too. But if I do, I'm afraid that the people who it involves, who love me, and have befriended me and nurture me would feel bad. Not that they've done anything wrong (again, to clarify, it's not anything negative I have to say), but just because they would recognize themselves as the catalyst for what I'm feeling, and I'm afraid they'd take it personally.

All this to say, there is a lot I want to say. A lot I want to post, and to write about, and verbalize through, if for no other reason than to just process. But I can't. And that, in itself, is just as frustrating as the things that I want to say in the first place. Things may change, I may get up some nerve, I may start to be ok with being honest about my feelings, even though I know it will mean having to confront them, in the context of friendships. But for now, just know that I am spilling over like a cup stuck under a faucet for far too long. And there is nowhere for all this water to go.

Addendum to Things That Get Me Into Trouble

2010-09-02T14:43:00.002-05:00

Oh, I forgot State Fair Food, and Memoribilia - I really didn't need those Gophers boxers two years ago, or that Dairy Pavillion apron. But did I get them anyways? Yep, I sure did.

I REALLY didn't need that second batch of cheese curds from the Mouse stand, or to split another cream puff, or even the second round of Cajun spiced Deep Fried Pickles. Or the Salted Cashew Roll. Or the Bull Bites. Or the French Meadow Bakery Strawberry topped scone. Or the Hot Buttered Corn or the 1919 Root Beer. Or the gigantic lemonade.
But did I have those? Oh, you know I did.

And this year, I'm gonna have them again, as a matter of fact. And I am SOOO pumped to lose all willpower for a few brief hours, once a year, in the name of the Great Minnesota Get Together!

Things That Get Me Into Trouble

2010-09-02T09:26:00.005-05:00

Or more aptly titled "Things That Fry My Willpower
Like A Cracked Egg On A Hot July Sidewalk"

1. Coupons for my favorite stores. - 40% off any one full-priced item at Banana Republic. Happy Birthday, here's 15% off at Anthropologie or Anthropologie.com. Take 20% off any sale item at J.Crew. These coupons are like kryptonite to my willpower. I may not need that new cardigan that I already have in two other colors, but by golly, I've got a coupon!!

2. Gelatto - why on earth do I think that just because this stuff isn't regular ice cream, it must be like sorbet, and therefore very low in calories, and actually, somehow really good for you? Chocolate Hazelnut Gelatto. Gotta be good for you - it's got Hazelnuts after all. And it's Italian. Makes sense right? Only in my mind. I might be the only person alive who doesn't get this!

3. When a guy talks books to me - Oh my god! Especially if he's already kind of a "bad guy" to begin with, someone I should stay away from. If he talks to me about plotlines, and character development, and literary influences, it's the mental equivalent of having my ears played with and my neck kissed. I'm not even kidding you. Too Much Information? Sorry, it may be, but how can I not swoon??

4. Staying in bed all day - reading, sleeping, watching movies.... 'nuff said.

5. A dare - I'm a sucker for a dare. Just don't do it, because trust me, I can't say no. "The Slap Heard 'Round The World"??? Ring a bell? Yeah.

6. Puppy Dog Eyes - you know that look that people give you when they want something? The big, sad, down turned eyes with a hint of longing sadness in them? I'm completely a sucker for it, every single time. People could ask me to watch their diarrhea infested cat, pick them up from the airport at 2 am on Sunday night, wash their stinky gym socks, make them a 12 course French meal, and I'd reply with a resounding "NO" of course. Unless they give me the puppy dog eyes. Big, sad, puppy dog eyes. Then, I just can't say no. Trembling lips are a bonus - they always seal the deal.

7. Anything labeled as "Spontaneous". One of my biggest fears in growing old is to become set in my ways, and boring. Therefore, I jump at the chance to do anything spontaneous, even if it's something I normally wouldn't do. Like drive cross-country to pick up your dog in Oregon, and bring it back in a tiny, last-leg Yugo, with you. In July. Heck yeah, you gave me 4 hours notice to get in on this road-trip-adventure-of-life! I'm in. Wooo, spontaneity!!!

8. Any opportunity to play a practical joke. My new favorite is sitting shotgun, and when you're at a light, you put the car in neutral when the driver's not paying attention. Sooo fun! Oh, I probably shouldn't have posted that here, b/c now people will be more aware of where my hands go when I'm riding in their front seat. Oops!

I try to excercise willpower, but frankly, it's not my strength. As the late, great Mae West once said "I generally avoid temptation unless I can't resist it." What a smart lady!

It's Coming Together

2010-08-27T13:14:00.002-05:00

So, last week I hosted my first party at my new apartment. I've been in there since June, but it's taken me this long to feel settled in, and even remotely ready to entertain.

Now I know hostessing isn't about perfect - a real Martha Stewart - but I at least wanted the place to look decent before inviting anyone over. And short of the sweltering heat and my lack of A/C, and the lack of real seating (two very big issues, btw), I think it all came together pretty sweetly.

There are definitely a few things I need to get done, however. Like find or make curtains, get a rug for the living room, glaze the living room walls with a smoky tobbacco finish to warm up the cool Robins Egg Blue, find a decent armoire to refinish into the boozy cabinet of my dreams, put a ceiling fan in the bedroom and now, after viewing Centsational Girl's post on redecorating her living room, I'm thinking replace the very mammary-looking light fixtures in the living room with something a little more retro adorable.

I've realized, with moving in here, how much I really love home projects, and especially decorating and refinishing old, shabby finds. This is not a hobby I ever saw myself really getting into, since I have such a hard time putting down roots. But after my last roommate's strong resistance to my decorating efforts, I was all ready to make this place look like it was aalll mine!!

And I do believe it has.

So for now, there is much that has been accomplished, but I know so much I would still like to do. Good thing I've got time, imagination, a decent skill set and a power drill. What more does a crafty girl like me need?

Playing Catch Up

2010-08-10T10:43:00.002-05:00

So a friend recently asked me for witty words of wisdom, here on my blog, to color and entertain her life. I wish I had them all the time. Even when I do, I'm not always near a computer, to just sit down and let my fingers do the talking, you know?

But I know you all deserve a catch-up, so brief as it is, here goes:

I got a job. It's good. That's all I'm saying on that.

I am not depressed - though thank you to all the well wishers who were a bit concerned after my last post. Even then I wasn't depressed - just pondering the differences between "Faith" and "Hope" and no, I'm not even talking about my last two church's. (And the greatest of these is love... just a little biblical humor in there for y'all). Faith is something we're promised has results and that is more or less tangible. Hope is less tangible, more ethereal, less solid, and something that we are not necessarily called to do, but because of God's goodness find ourselves doing anyways. Both are beautiful, and transcendent in their own way. I'm just trying to work out the differences between what we're promised and what we can only hope for in this life. They're not always the same.

Love life - meh, the same. After another failed, two month, get-yer-hopes-up-just-to-realize-he's-not-the-man-you-want relationship, and a date or two in it's aftermath, I'm back to just wishing I could have all or nothing. It's the in between, the desiring, that I don't want. I either want to be single, and want to want it with all my heart, or want to be married, snuggling up to somebody who'll hold my hand every night and having a wonderful family of my own adorable chubby, bright eyed, dimpled babies. Either or. I'm happy with either or. But not this in between.

I heard that an acquaintance, a guy I hardly know, but see occasionally, told someone the other day that he feels called to being single. I jumped for joy!! The first thing I thought was "Yay! He knows what he wants!! I'm so happy for him." How wonderful it must be to know what you want, and to be solid in it. I also thought, whew, now I can pursue just being his friend, without fear of him thinking I'm after him because he's young and single. In all honesty, there's a lot of guys I just don't try to be friends with for fear that they'll think I'm just some other single gal trying to get a chance with them. I'm not, I just really want to be his friend, and now that I know that, maybe I can just walk right up to him and be like "Hey dude, I heard you feel called to singleness. That's so great. Wanna just be friends?" Yay!!

And really that's about it for me lately. I have in my mind, and as something I'm wrestling with, more on this subject of faith vs. hope. The battle between what we're called to do, what we're promised, and what we can only anticipate and well, hope for. To the kind, wonderful women who's been reading my blog for two years now, and worries that I was depressed, I reassure, I am not, nor was I ever really. I think God's love and faithfulness were always keeping my head above water. But I will admit to this - hopelessness for me, is a deep black well, where you throw your penny in, and can never be sure if you'll hear it hit the bottom. There might be a bottom to that well, but you'll never really know. Faith, on the other hand, faith is a well that, though it may seem deep and bottomless, always has a bottom, and you can hear your penny splash, sometimes faintly, and sometimes resounding with a beautiful echo. Faith always answers. Faith never disappoints. Faith, what we are called and commanded to have and do, is ultimately rooted in God's love and His faithfulness to us. That's why it's a rope I will cling to with assurance and security. Hope, well that's another story, and one I'm trying to find the answer to. If I come up with anything, I promise, I'll be more faithful to let you know. I guess you can only hope.

It's 9:43, Do You Know Where Your Life Is?

2010-07-06T21:09:00.005-05:00

I think you can always tell when there's a lot on my mind, and going on in my old ticker, because my posts become noticeably more trite. Not that I want them to be considered shallow, and even when they're lighthearted or random, I try to keep them out of that arena. But there is a noticeable shift towards the less meaningful, and I tend to say a lot less, when I've got something deep going in my my brain, heart or soul. I'm trying to say something, without saying what I really want to say.

I think this would be one of those times.

But really, why shouldn't I just come out and say it? In the end, I always do anyhow. It's one of the joys of not being able to live without authenticity. So, right now, in my head and in my heart, to put it simply, there is this:

I'm sick.
I'm jobless.
I'm bored and discontent.
I'm nursing a broken heart.

I'm sick - yeah, I've got the Mono. I happen to be the one person who get's "the kissing disease" and can't even say I've been kissed lately. And let's face it, oohhh how I want to have been kissed lately.

I'm jobless. And it's starting to wear on me. I want to be working, just because I miss it so very much. I miss the structure, the routine, the ability to dress up and not live in my sweats or favorite jeans everyday. I miss the paycheck. Job searching is hard on me. I have a sensitive, bruised and frail sense of self-esteem anyways. If there's any other form of rejection going on in my life, applying for scores of jobs and being rejected for them only adds to the delicate, vulnerable state I'm in. Job searching can be mundane. Interviewing can be mundane. It is only the potential of eventually finding that perfect position, where my creativity, organizational OCD and cookie-baking method of meeting my coworkers can shine, that keeps me pounding the online pavement. I just want to be working already!!

I'm crazy bored. Because I'm unemployed, and am trying to get over my uncomfortable, inconveniencing bout with Mono, I've been home, a lot. Or rather, just indoors really (and during summer!!! The travesty!). I've been watching a lot of tv, reading a lot of books. Doing a lot of nothing. And I am bored!! I find myself just sighing, for no reason, or clock-watching, or sleeping a lot (ok, that's actually prescribed by my doctor). Ho-hum dreariness has set in people - watch out.

And, I'm kind of love sick. Or sick of love - whichever way you want to put it. Every once in a while, I'll renew my faith in meeting a great guy, and seeing it work out. Maybe there's someone I've met, and we've gone on a date or two. A few phone calls, a few flirty texts, a nice dinner, and I'm thinking, whoah, someone might actually be interested in me. Someone might actually think I'm nice, or clever, or God forbid, pretty. Maybe I won't be an old spinster/crazy no-cats lady forever. Maybe we might even someday fall in love, and take long walks and hold hands. And whoah, who knows, maybe, just maybe, we might even run off and elope, and someday have adorable, chubby, bright eyed babies. This could actually happen. Maybe - it maybe could. And then I wake up. And I realize, once again, I was hoping. I need to remember to not do that.

Y'see - hope is a bad thing. I know how cynical, how bitter, how well, hopeless that sounds. But trust me, hope is something I hope to never have, ever again. Hope just gets your hopes up. And in the end, your hopes, well they're only crushed, and dashed, and smashed, and run over by a freight train, and pulverized in a lovely little kitchen blender, then run through the puree setting and spit out onto the floor of your heart like bruise colored applesauce. Bleh. Sorry Sandra Bullock, hope doesn't float. It sinks like an anvil in a pond. (This I'm sure you know, having had your heart broken, and your hopes dashed, this year, probably despite all hopes that your tatooed, ex-stripper crazed, motorcycle riding husband would hopefully turn out to be faithful. I feel ya Sandra, I feel ya!)

So more than anything, more than being bored, and jobless and sick and heartbroken, I'm really just ready to give up on something good happening to me this year. This, at the root of what's going on in my life, and in my mind and heart, is what I'm feeling lately. Once again I hoped, and once again I was reminded that maybe some people just aren't meant to have their hopes fulfilled. I really, really, really had hoped that this wouldn't be the case, though. Especially when it came to the relationship stuff - because all of it, the Mono, the unemployment, the boredom with having Mono and being unemployed, could be so much more tolerable, if only I had someone to share them with. Well, not literally share them with, especially the Mono, but you know what I mean.

So, though the last few posts I've written have been about my favorite decorating magazines, or how Justin Bieber has killed the American man, or just fluff, that's not always who I am. Sometimes I'm brooding, dark and angry. Sometimes I'm bored, discontent and restless. Sometimes I'm jaded, and cynical, and surrendered to the inevitable gloom that I cannot help but foresee. Sometimes I'm all of the above.

But even when I am all of those things, I think I know, that at the heart of me, there is a tiny flicker of a flame, distant in the darkness that surrounds it, that still is sweet, trusting, caring, crazy gullible and naive, and yes, maybe even a teensy wee bit hopeful. And that is who I am, at my core. Even when I try to hide it behind all the boredom, the hopelessness and the fluff, I know that there's more to who I am. Sometimes, there is more, but maybe I'm just not saying it.

For All My Lady Friends

2010-07-06T19:52:00.006-05:00

.... Here are three articles I read recently, that I found hit the mark for (young) women's issues. In all actuality, the only one that surprised me when I found I agreed with it, was also the only one by a Christian author/website. It's not often that I can agree with something that mainstream Christian women authors or bloggers have to say. Usually it's the same old blah-blah-blah... love the Lord, love your husband, love your children. What? You don't have those last two - well honey, you better get talking to the first one then!!

Anyways, I digress.

Here you have it - three relevant and interesting articles (well, two are kinda relevant, one's just interesting) I thought all my sistahs out there my enjoy. I say sistahs, because honestly, I hate the phrase "lady friends". Soooo creepy and UCE.

Love, T

Playing At Sexy

The Perils of Christian Chick Lit

Biebered! How Team Edward, Team Jacob and Justin Bieber Have Killed the American Man!

RIP Domino Magazine.... Though It's Been A While.

2010-06-26T11:03:00.005-05:00

Let's face it, I am a magazine freak. There have been times where the stacks of magazines next in my bathroom have piled almost as high as the sink itself. I just love magazines that much. As a girl, growing up in style-obsessed L.A., my favorites were Vogue, Glamour and Harpers Bazaar, though occasionally Sassy did make it in there (I was still a teenager, after all). As an adult, Lucky graces that list.... Every. Single. Month. As do Real Simple, Martha Stewart, and Glamour still. My tastes have evolved, but some things, like my voyeuristic love of Do's & Don'ts, never change.

The much missed, out of publication (for a while, I might add) Domino Magazine was an offshoot of Lucky, and dedicated to providing stylish, offbeat and eclectic design ideas and advice. They were to interior design magazines what Etsy is to artisinal websites. Always off the beaten path, they toured the chic, and sometimes quirky, homes of such inspirations as Zooey Deschanel, Claire Forlani and Amanda Peet. Sigh. They offered practical advice, but it was always tempered with a healthy dose of whimsical and offbeat style. And I really miss that combination, that just can't be found in other decorating magazines. Other's remind me either of my grandma's magazines, i.e., Better Homes & Gardens, or are too out of my reality, i.e., Architectural Digest. Domino blended the best aspects of both of these, with a taste that was perfect for a trendy 30-something single gal. Again, sigh.

As I'm trying to make the most of my little one bedroom walk up, before my housesitting gig this summer ends and I actually have to live there, I long for the inspiration that Domino would so often provide. Finding old issues on Ebay isn't as easy as you'd think. It seems that most people who appreciated the magazine as much as I did, were smarter than me and didn't part so easily with their past issues. Sadly, mine always made it out to the recyling bin, each month, as I cleaned out the bathroom of it's glossy stacks. Hindsight, in this case is definitely 20/20.

In an attempt to find a suitable replacement, whether online, or in print form (which old fashioned me prefers), I've discovered a few noteworthy blogs. They're no Domino, don't get me wrong, but moderately inspirational nonetheless.

In a nod to my old, much missed, home decorating friend, here are a few of those links, for your entertainment, and perusal. RIP Domino - you are greatly missed.

Material Girls: Design Inspiration From Coast To Coast

Lovely Clusters: Beautiful, Dreamy, Handmade

Oliveaux

French Essence

Sexy Back II

2010-06-10T11:02:00.007-05:00

A few weeks ago, I published a post called "Bringing Sexy Back", in which I laid down a whole bunch of things that I think are hot. At the time, I had stumbled upon a friend's bedroom, and in it, he had a stack of books by his bed, which was rumpled and messy, and on top of the books lay the glasses I had never seen him wear. There was something so cerebrally, insanely sexy about that sight - that taboo little peek into his sanctuary - like glancing into his soul and seeing something unexpected. Wow. It just got me thinking is all.

Shortly thereafter, one of the most spirited, loving women I know, M., followed suit, and posted on her blog things she finds sexy too. It seems we're a bunch of passionate spitfires, us single women! Some of what she wrote really resounded with me, and I thought Oh yeah, why didn't I write that? and some of it was like WHAT THE HECK???

All of it, however, made me think that as I've gotten older my tastes have changed so much. My style, my type, my interests, whatever you want to call it, have matured, as I've matured, and with it certain character traits in a man are more important to me now than they were, say 15 years ago. Long gone are the days when "Listens to Depeche Mode" was high on the list. Now I think things like "Is really good with kids" and "Knows what he wants and is willing to work hard for it" are in the top ten.

I realize too, that ever since the big relationship of my 20's, how I fall in love has changed as well. Though physical attraction is a necessity in the long run, it's not necessarily a strong deciding factor at the onset. In my 20's I met a man and fell for him heart and soul, not because of his dashing good looks, but because of how he treated me - his kindness, openness and encouragement. As a matter of fact, at the time I remember thinking he's old! And he was. But he was better to me than any man in my life had ever been, and that made him more attractive than the hottest of movie stars (Ummm, Gerard Butler anyone?). Things didn't work out, in the long run. Obviously. But to this day we're still friends and his support and friendship still mean a lot to me.

Since that time, I've learned that it's the heart that draws me in; the character, the soul. If a guy is funny and can crack me up, he becomes way sexier, in my book, than if he's tall or has kind eyes (though tall with kind eyes definitely helps). Someone that has a kind, generous and patient spirit is far more attractive than someone that has chiseled abs and a perfect head of hair. As a matter of fact, truth be told, I'm not much into chiseled abs, or a perfect head of hair. I like guys who you can cuddle up and watch a movie on the couch with, and who don't feel like a marble statue (Sorry all you Team Edward friendies out there - I prefer the heater of a Jacob, or better yet Charlie!!) A perfect head of hair is over-rated, since chances are it will be gone in ten years anyways. Gimme the guy who likes a good home-cooked meal, or better yet adores my cooking, and I'm a happy camper. Gimme someone who spends more time investing in other people's lives, than investing in his body at the gym, and I'll give you a big smile and a swoon. Patience, tolerance, kindness, generosity, laughter, humility, goofiness, a willingness to show appreciation, intelligence, good old fashioned chivalry - those traits don't fade, sag, wrinkle or grow old. Ever.

Outward beauty is the only investment that is guaranteed to not pay out in 20 years. The gorgeous humanitarian Audrey Hepburn once said “For beautiful eyes, look for the good in others; for beautiful lips, speak only words of kindness; and for poise, walk with the knowledge that you are never alone.”

Sexy is good, but sexy doesn't last. Character and soul, or as M. said "an open mind and a soft heart", are far more valuable in the long run. And a stack of books by an unmade bed, glasses on your day off, and a stolen kiss, those don't hurt either.

Love Inspirations

2010-06-09T18:45:00.009-05:00

As I sat down to write tonight, I almost started this post with "Everyone has a style inspiration" but then I remembered the woman at SuperTarget today with the much-too-tight brown polyester pants and the blue, long sleeved, knit polo that was just a tad too short, leaving her stretch-marked front/muffin top peeking out like a big glob of unbaked whole wheat bread dough.

Apparently, not EVERYONE has a style inspiration, much less any style to start with. Or taste, or class, but I digress.

As I finished painting my apartment yesterday/today, and have begun to move furniture in, I've been trying to determine what my "style" is, when it comes to decorating. According to my much coveted Domino Guide To Decorating book, I'm "laid back, glamorous, traditional but with a twist". Sounds about right. No matter what I am, I know that as I begin to create a warm, inviting home, where I can both entertain guests and retreat from the world, one thought is consistently going through my mind - WWHD? What Would H. Do?

H. for those not in the know, is a dear friend, and someone who's generosity, intelligence, and far-reaching love are as abounding as her sense of slightly bohemian, slightly urbane style. When I first met H, a few years back, I was quite intimidated by her - she's just that cool. But as I've become her friend, over time, I can now see that she is not the least bit scary, but on the contrary is hilarious, down to earth and sincere. Whenever I get to spend time with her, I'm always in awe of her; both in her home, her wardrobe, and her many, many talents. Seriously, the girl's got mad style.

And now, she's my total apartment style inspiration. Every time I ask myself Is this print too much? or Is this color pairing going to clash? I just think of her home, with it's bright chartreuse piano, and eclectic yet coordinating mix of fun pieces. I think WWHD? and then I take a more daring step, knowing that somehow it will all come together. So, this post, is a huge, grateful shout out to H..... without you, what would I do? Seriously, thank you!!

Another person who's been my style, and well frankly, life inspiration lately is C. C. and I went to college together, a million years ago, and even then she was intimidatingly cool and above the rest of the crowd with her devil-may-care attitude. I sometimes wonder if she even remembers me, though I admittedly online stalk her, through the two well written and fascinating blogs she pens. I'm not sure if it's because she lives in Oregon, where I sometimes really long to be, or if it's because of the amazing I'm hipster cool without even trying vibe she gives off, but there's just something so charming about C., that I long to channel and project. Did I mention she's a great writer? Well she really is!

Tonight I was able to catch up on her blog, and get the latest news of her & her husbands long awaited journey into adoption. As I read of the joy and love she feels for her yet unmet 2 year old daughter M., I started to sob. I realized, both C. and H., have something much deeper, much more potent, and much more eternal than just a great sense of style in common - they have hearts so full of love that it just overflows into the lives around them. These two women are not just beautiful faces and tags or labels on a piece of clothing (though my heart did do a casual little flip when I read of C. purchasing skinny jeans for her incoming toddler). They're much more than the images they convey. They are beautiful, loving, caring women, and they are faithfully heeding the call to care for orphans and widows, which is a beautiful and noble thing.

I'm insanely jealous, but in the most non-jealous, non-mean, totally supportive, love-you-both-so-much kind of way. Here's the deal kids - I may look up to these two women for the class and style they exude. But at the end of the day, what I really look up to these two fantastic women for is so much more than that. I admire them because they are just awe-inspiring people with hearts, that like my own feeble one, are ready to give love wherever they can - to the neediest, the poorest, the most forsaken and forlorn. And they share so much more in common than they, perfect strangers in this small little world, will ever know.

Yeah, I want to be stylish. Yeah, I want to be modern, traditional, urban eclectic chic. Yeah, I want that adorable new pie plate from Anthro. But what I really, really want - what I covet, what I long for and desire - is to be a woman ready to give my heart away, at the drop of a hat, to the next underfed, underclothed, underloved child that God puts in my path. I too want to love on a child not my own, but not anyone else's either. I want to follow in their steps someday, and bring a motherless child into my life and home.

And when I do, I'm gonna throw style caution to the wind and let them spill on the buttery leather sofa, and color on the Robins Egg blue walls and make mud pies in their adorable little Crewcuts. Because you know what? Some things, like love, never go out of style.

A Wonderfully Good Day

2010-06-07T08:27:00.003-05:00

I'm not sure if it's the fact that tomorrow is my birthday, or that it's just a gorgeous morning out, or that I kicked ass at the gym this morning (that AFTER my morning excursion with W & her darling dog Bue).... but I'm in a flipping great mood!!!! Maybe it's that I'm sitting here at Dunn Brothers, just sipping my Organic Green Tea with honey, and all of a sudden my favorite Death Cab song comes on, making me smile. Or that I found a $5 wedged in between my seat belt and car seat this morning.

Here's the deal though - this song would have come on whether I was in a good mood or not. It would still be a beautiful morning, despite being a Monday, whether I chose to recognize it or not. Me being in a good mood doesn't make good things happen - but me being in a good mood opens my eyes to seeing the beauty and joy around me.

How many times do we go through life, like sad Charlie Brown, dejected, head down, feet dragging and the Waaah Waaaah song playing in the background, missing the life that is going on right around us? More often than not, there's a relatively valid reason for our Debbie Downer outlook too. Yeah, life can suck sometimes. But life can be glorious too.

Yeah, yeah, I might sound like some peace-loving, daisy chain wearing hippie, but I think this concept is true. There is plenty to be happy about, grateful for, enamored with, in this life, if we just stop to look for it. Sometimes it's as plain as the crooked nose on an old friend's face, other times it requires searching out. But I guarantee you it's always there and always worth the effort it takes to find.

Today won't be perfect - my neighbors are too loud, and my legs are SORE from running Saturday and dancing Friday. But I can look at life with cloudy grey glasses and complain about those things, or I can remember that I have an adorable new apartment that I love, and got to dance my heart out with friends the other night. It all depends on how I choose to see it. Outlook baby - it makes all the difference.

Random Randomness:

2010-06-06T14:44:00.007-05:00

I'm feeling rather random today. Thoughts keep popping into my head, during the week, and I think Somehow, I must get that into a blog post. But sometimes these little smidgens aren't enough for a post of their own. Therefore, random ramblings:

- I think my favorite love song post-1980 is Everlong, by the Foo Fighters. Double points if it's the acoustic version.

- Pre-1980 it's definitely You Do Something To Me, as song by Ella Fitzgerald. Or maybe Paper Moon by Nat King Cole. Really I'm a sucker for either of the Coles (Porter, or Nat King).

- I am a sucker for Snuggle laundry softener. I absolutely adore the smell of clean laundry. And anything Cucumber Melon, in the summer.

- I'd rather lose my ears than my breasts. True story.

- Like my freak mirror, K, sometimes I think in Facebook statuses. True story again.

- Though I like to think of myself as mostly tolerant, and urban, truth be told, I hate city noise. Especially when generated by loud, uncaring, uncouth people who feel the need to talk loudly in libraries and play their music at eardrum shattering decibels, when they live in an apartment building. Gimme the quiet solitude of the country and small town life any day.

- I could nap everyday and be perfectly content. And no, I don't have mono and I'm not depressed.

- Most days I like children much, much more than adults. Less drama, more innocence, and hardly any pretension. Plus you can throw them around and they smile a lot.

- I really, really want to be a writer, but I have no idea where to start, other than this blog. Diablo Cody is kind of my hero, and she's gorgeous! I don't want to follow in her footsteps per se (sorry, no stripping career for THIS girl), but I admire her chutzpah and style. Second only to baking, in my life, writing is something I'm both good at, and feel utterly at home doing. *Sigh*

- So, if I can't be a writer, I want to be a bakery owner. Who knows, maybe someday I'll do both. But for now, I am just itching to start my own bakery and call it Hello Sugar. I want to make adorable cupcakes with sugared violets and lemon drops on top, and towering, frosting heavy, multi-layered cakes in interesting flavors like Lychee Green Tea and Coconut Almond Caramel. I want to name the cupcakes after my friends, and also make home made candies too. If I could do this, while married, raising a baby, and living in a beach house in Portland, Oregon, that would be sheer heaven. But I'll settle for single, in Minneapolis, with the option to adopt and hang pictures of my adorable adopted baby all over the store.

These are all little random tidbits that have been floating around in my mind like cottonwood pollen in the breeze. Sometimes I just need an outlet for them - if only because I find them interesting, more so than believing anyone else would. Here's another random thought for you: It's Sunday afternoon, and I believe that days like this, despite being gorgeous outside, are made for naps. On that note, happy June to you!

Ten Little Things That Bring Me Joy

2010-06-01T19:56:00.003-05:00

I haven't done TLT's in a while, so for this first week of June, here they are:

1. the smell of the dryer vent from outside the house, when the dryer is running

2. late night thunderstorms

3. the perfect (and I do mean PERFECT) latte

4. sundresses

5. new books

6. BBC renditions of Jane Austen novel's

7. how Ana literally runs and jumps into my arms when she's happy to see me

8. and how she refers to the song as "You Are My Sunshine" as "the love song". As in, "Aunt Trinette, sing me the love song". Okaay!

9. my amazing Army Wife friends - they are strong, brave, supportive, courageous, have wonderful husbands who defend our freedom, and are pretty much the best moms/wives/women I know! I am so proud of you!

10. my new marshmallow frosting recipe - I want to put it on everything. What I really want for my birthday is a butane torch so I can toast the frosting peaks into beautifully carmelized little swirls

Bonus - 11. New Jack Johnson music. Heck, Jack Johnson. Period.

The Sounds of Silence

2010-06-01T11:58:00.007-05:00

Sometimes I don't blog because I literally have nothing to say. I enjoy the silence. Sometimes you can't shut me up.

I've been going through a transitional time lately. In so, so many ways. In my living arrangements, my job, what I eat, who I believe I am, who I believe God is, my age, romantically, emotionally, spiritually. Wow, you name it - it's been shaken up for me this year. And that's a really good, exciting thing.

I don't dislike change. I know that through it we grow - we are pruned, and fed new things, and grow and blossom, and are cut back again. I like growing. I adore flowers, and gardens and planting things, and Bachmans or the garden section at Lowes. So maybe it's only natural that I embrace change.

When I'm going through it, it's rarely easy though. They're called growing pains for a reason. But the fruit, ah the fruit.

Anyways, all this to say, that I haven't had a lot to say lately, because in all actuality, I've had too much to say. Too much to put into words, to try and filter, to organize and communicate. So sometimes I just say nothing at all. I like being quiet - it's so unlike me.

In other news, yesterday I went to Anthro, with a wonderful friend. She'd never been there before, so I had the privilege of doing some Anthro deflowering. She spoils me too, showing her appreciation for my friendship and hand-me-downs much too generously. I don't deserve it.

While she was there, she bought these - Keels Simple Diary's. Their covers are fruity and bright but their pages are filled with whimsical and random multiple choice questions that get to the heart of what kind of your day you're having, at any given time. They're charming and provide seemingly thoughtless journaling that, for someone like me, would just open the door down many a bunny trail.

She bought two, one for herself, and one for her sister, and they plan to trade them eventually, to see what each other is thinking, going through, living like. I adore that idea. If I ever date someone again, I want to do this. I want to see someone through the eyes of their day-to-day existence, not the fancy Saturday night impressions. I'm hopeful - both that someday there sill be someone out there to date me, and that he'll not look at the journal and think I'm some kind of fruit loop. It could be fun. It could happen.

Till then, like I said, I'm enjoying the silence. I've got my music turned way up loud and am singing along to some Under The Covers, sweet music of my memories, by my second favorite girl-band musician of the 80's (Belinda Carlisle being the first). I'm painting this week (hopefully) and the creative juices are flooooowing. It doesn't mean I'll have much to say, but maybe sometimes a picture can paint a thousand words.

Eyes Wide Open

2010-05-15T20:24:00.005-05:00

What is about visual stimulation that gets us so riled up as human beings?

What I mean by that is this - and here's where I'm gonna get pretty specific and hope you can follow my train of thought - why is it that the more we look at something the more we want it? The same doesn't always ring true of our other senses. The more I smell something, the more I want it? No. The more I taste it? Feel it? Hear it? No, no, no. But the more I look at something, the more I want it, and the harder it is for me to get it out of my mind.

AND I'M A WOMAN!!! We're not even the "visual" ones here. Guys are, or so the male/female differences myths go.

So, the reason I bring this up is threefold. One, I bought a dress today, a dress I probably could've not bought and been just as happy without. But a dress that I have been eyeing at Banana for weeks, both in the store and online. And yesterday, they changed their website, to have new "Summer Essentials" and my dress was featured as the dress of the season. And it looked gooooood. On the model, on the hanger, and in my mind's eye, on me. It's gorgeous. It just looked gorgeous.

Now don't get me wrong, I didn't go into debt for this dress or anything. I had a coupon as a matter of fact. But even still, as I was driving home from the mall thinking about my new dress, the words of an old friend's blog, where she recently posted about women, fashion and social consciousness and spirituality, came back to me. Why do we, as women, feel so tied to fashion? I know I definitely am. Nooooo doubt about it, I'm a fashion-holic, and I can't even apologize in good faith for it. But that's another post for another time. I digress.

I was thinking about this dress, on the way home today, and asked myself "what prompted me to wait, till my coupon became active, and buy THIS dress, in particular, when I could have bought countless other pretty dresses?" I can name a few. The grey Tracey Reese from Anthro. The pink Trina Turk from Macys. But I chose the brown and white safari print from Banana Republic. Why? And I realized that despite liking these other dresses, I'd been following this one online and in the store, watching it, stalking it, as it were. I'd seen it, a lot, and in seeing it, over and over again, looking at it, watching it, I wanted it more and more.

This dress was Bathsheba, and I, I am David hanging out on his roof on a Saturday night. Sad.

But the thought behind this post, about the nuances of vision and desire, goes beyond a dress. This principle has applied to other areas of my life. And I am sure that as any of my guy friend's can attest, the link between the visual and our desires is fitfully binding and probably uncooperative. I've had to train myself the hard way in other areas of my life, to just not look at certain things, because of the emotional response it creates in me. Unlike my guy friends, my response is strictly emotional. I would wager they also battle with the physical ramifications of what they see.

I've been struggling back and forth with the same crush for a while now. Sometimes I'm over it, and sometimes I'm not. Often, the times when I'm trying the hardest to just forget how I feel about this guy, are the times when I've had to train myself to just not look him in the eyes. I am almost afraid too, as if the second I do I'm gonna melt into a big helpless puddle, and he's gonna see right through me to my soul, and know exactly how I still feel. I'm afraid my words will fail me, I'll blabber and be incoherent, or maybe time itsef will stand still and I'll be trapped, feet locked in cement, and unable to run away. No matter what the irrational and inexplicable fear of looking him in the eye is, it's taken great courage and resolution and logic for me to get past it and just look my friend in the eyes. Sometimes I think it's better not to, eyes are, after all, the window to the soul.

Does any of that make sense? No. But then neither does the phrase "Sometimes we don't do the things we want to do, so that others won't know we want to do them". Ivy Walker said that in The Village (amazing love story, and probably my favorite M. Night Shamyalan film by the way). It's one of my favorite quotes, and sometimes exactly how I feel.

Anywho, I digress. So, the dress, the crush, and then this: The same friend who was blogging about women and our ties to fashion, was also blogging recently about her and her husband's struggles in waiting for adoption. It's been a long time, and I guess her maternal clock is ticking like a time bomb. Gee, I really don't know what that's like. In reference to her maternal clock and desires for chidren, she said:

"There have been seasons where it has been unbearable, particulary when I first started working at an elementary school, and was overwhelmed by the hilarious, energetic, adorable ways of the children. Sometimes when I had to walk across the playground during recess, I'd get choked up and have to look away, hoping not to actually trip over any of the litte ones I was trying not to look at."

Her authenticity and vulnerability in sharing her inability to even look at the kids is awe-inspiring. You should all read her blog, just because she's a distant friend who I once went to college with, who's fashion sense and general beauty I have always admired and she lives in Portland, which makes me hella jealous!! (Sidenote - Trinette's dream life = living in a beach house in Portland, OR with my amazingly wonderful, handsome, spiritually atune husband, our two adorable children and running my own vegan/gluten free catering bakery business. I'm just sayin's all.) Anyways, this friend, she may not even remember me, but I remember always being in awe of her, and now her willingness to share not being able to even look at the little rugrats she works with confirms that she's still a marvelously cool person.

Like me, and the dress I became obsessed with through viewing it repeatedly, and the on-again/off-again crush I can't even look in the eyes, she finds a tie between what we view and what we want. Or what we can't view because we want it so much. I'm not the only one who feels this way, I guess.

And just think, if this is a problem for us women, and we are genetically hard-wired to be less apt to respond to visual stimulation than our beleagured brothers, then imagine how hard it must be for them. Yikes! I don't drive down the street and have to avoid most billboards. The ads in the windows at Victorias Secret that scream out "Hello Bombshell", while offensive because of how they affect men I love and respect, don't really affect me all that much. I can watch shows like Weeds, or True Blood, because, while they put it all out there on display, that doesn't affect me the way, say watching The Notebook does. My poor, poor guy friends, who care to keep their hearts, eyes and minds pure - I applaud you all, and want to encourage you that in your visual battles, you are winning the respect and admiration of your friends and sisters! Keep up the good work.

And if you have any pointers I could benefit from, that would be great. Because let's face it. There are a lot of pretty dresses, beautiful big eyes, and adorable children out there. And though I can hide behind my Banana sunglasses, I can't hide from the world. They can't see in, but I can still see out. And therein, likes my problem. There's too much too see, too much I want, too much I can't have, and frankly, I don't want to go through this life with eyes wide shut.

Skinny B*tch

2010-05-14T09:31:00.003-05:00

I'm on a diet. Aren't those the worst words in the English language, or any language really? How often do you think French women say "I'm on a diet"? Lucky ducks!

I'm not really on a diet, in that I hate dieting, and I don't "do" diets. I hate the thought that going "on a diet" makes it sound like there's this temporary factor to what you're doing, and that immediate results and drastic lifestyle changes are imminent.

I can't handle that.

But I bought a book, after watching two friends start to facebook about it, and being slightly intrigued. It's called Skinny B*tch. I figured it was going to tell me nothing I didn't already know. Having battled with Celiac's and feeling like I'm on the losing side of that battle, now for four years, I am well acquainted with exactly what I need to be doing to treat my body right. I've read the books about the Gluten/Casein & Brain connection, the Auto-Immune connection between what we eat, clean our houses with, use to wash our bodies off with and how we feel. As someone who's perpetually sore hips constantly remind her they need a good cracking, who feels like my head is a marble resting on an orange (my middle section) atop two toothpicks (my surprisingly muscular and lean legs), and who has actually has a journal for her food/mood connection I can honestly tell you that I KNOW that when I eat crap, I feel crappy, and when I eat good food, I feel energized, alert and positive. Believe me, there's not a lot that surprises me about food and diet and health these days.

It's just that I like food. And food that tastes good. A lot more than I should.

So, that being said, I am really not on a diet. I'm just making a renewed commitment to myself to get back to eating right. To cutting out fatty meats, well all meat really (for a bit, we'll see how it goes). To cutting out Gluten for sure, and dairy for sure. I think the hardest part of that will be my Pepper Jack cheese obsession, but whatevs.

This week was kind of the clincher, in making this decision. Monday night I had a raging snack attack and bought candy and treats for the movies. This AFTER Potbelly for dinner. Needless to say I had nightmares that night (the peppers from Potbelly always do this to me). Tuesday was the all American, down home Paula Deen fat-fest. And then there Wednesday's youth group Junk Food/High Fructose Corn Syrup extravaganza. But the nail in the coffin was Ikea. Curse you Ikea, how I love your Swedish meatballs & Lingonberry sauce!!! Ikea on Thursday.

You see, yesterday, M and I went to Ikea to pick up a bookcase for her, and we stopped for lunch. Of course you have to get Swedish meatballs, mashed potatoes and lingonberry sauce when you get there. But about 1/2 an hour after eating it, I thought I had ingested large doses of carbon monoxide. I was literally dead on my feet. Isn't food supposed to energize and power you? I felt like my lunch was laced with Roofies, I was so tired. All I wanted to do was come home and take a nap, and trust me, with M at Ikea, there's no getting home soon. But when we finally did make it back home, she too was feeling equally lethargic and naps were definitely in order. I'm blaming the Swedes and their cheap, modular furniture and sleep-inducing food.

In any case, her and I were talking about food, and diet, etc, after I bought the Skinny B*tch book with her at Target. I was telling her about a comment a good friend made the other day about trying to watch his "girlish figure" and how I just laugh because I think he's just fine the way he is. What does a guy like that know about women and our weight battles? Or being fat? But then after realizing that this friend, who is fit and athletic, is trying to watch what he eats, I, of all people should too. And it hit me, hard mind you, that as someone who often cooks for her friends, I am in control of what other people eat, and I should respect that, and their wishes a whole lot more. The whole week in reverse played out in my mind, from Wednesday night bringing snacks to youth group (Oreos, Chips Ahoy, Cheesy Puffcorn, Doritos, Cream Soda and Baby Moo Juice aka Milk), to the night before when I stuffed chicken breasts with bbq butter and wrapped them in bacon, before I used a whole jar of mayonaise in my potato salad. Ewww, can you hear it? It's the sound of my arteries clogging just thinking about it? Ew!!!

Yesterday, all day long, all I could think about was the disservice I had done to others and to myself, in my cooking and the snacks I bought, and I knew I had to turn over a new leaf. I dug right into Skinny B*tch like a bowl of Mint Chip ice cream and am halfway through it. It's a pretty good book, minus the language. But hey, sometimes I need a kick in the pants.

I don't want to jump on any bandwagons. I want to make a lasting change. But the nice thing is, I don't really think I'll be doing anything drastic with the changes I am implementing. Just being more moderate, more healthy, and respecting my body a whole lot more. They say habits take 14 days of regular, daily practice before they set in as routine. I can do it, I think. I'm on day 6 of walking/running. I'm on day one of gluten/dairy free, reduced meat, increased water, no pop, no candy, no ice cream, no joy (haha just kidding) eating. And I'm determined that with a little help from my friends, I too can someday be a Skinny B*tch. Well minus the B*tch part, because honestly, I can't wait to show my friends how much I love them by creating wonderful vegetable heavy, fat reduced meals for them and being their exercise accountability partner.

We'll all be pretty, you wait & see.

A letter to the hateful little minx at the SLP Anthro:

2010-05-13T08:57:00.007-05:00

Dear snotty little salesgirl with the bad Joan Jett hairdo:

I'm on to you missy. Oh, I'm on to you, and after yesterday, well it's war. Here's the thing, I'm not a hateful or vengeful person. But I've been in the retail and customer service industry long enough to know the reek of insincerity, and trust me honey, it's oozing from your pores. And lying to me? Really? What's your deal? Well whatever it is, game on sister. Game. On.

Here's what I don't understand: When I first came into your store a few months ago with a return from Arbor Lakes, I could tell you weren't happy about it. That's fine. "Oh, they must work on commission", I thought, because what else would cause you to be so rude to me on that occasion? But even still, it was just so out of character for your company to treat a customer like that.

Your attitude was palpable, the way you rolled those little double entendres off your tongue - "Are you absolutely SURE you don't want to look around for anything else today?" and "You really want to bring back this gorgeous bag? Really?". Yes, really sweetie. Do you question all your customers like that? Oh, and did you think I was too dumb to catch the fact that you were pissed I wasn't buying anything that day? You may think you're subtle, sweetheart, but trust me, there's nothing that sneaks by this keen intellect, especially not your clobbering, obvious insults. You're gonna have to try a lot harder than that.

Even so, I couldn't understand how a store that has such impeccable customer service and personalized attention could tolerate the kind of 'tude you were slinging around. I wondered if you were a manager, and thought that maybe your little air of superiority was because you got off on being in management at an Anthro store. Oooooh, good job college grad!! The way you stuck your bourgeoisie little nose in the air as you processed my return was almost laughable, if it wasn't so pathetic. Oh, and speaking of laughable, I got a call from Robert Pattinson last night... he says that Kristin Stewart wants her hair back. Poseur!

In any case, I quickly forgot about it and moved on, deciding to only shop at the Edina or Arbor Lakes store. There's no reason to keep subjecting myself to your trite little negativities when there are perfectly wonderful people like Molly and Jeanette and the chick with the really cool 1950's eyeliner & Barbie doll obsession at the other stores. But yesterday, yesterday brought me back into your realm, and just like oil meeting water, as soon as I saw you, and you saw me, and we locked eyes, I knew it was going to be epic.

Thankfully you knew better than to even try and fake niceties to me, and let that sweet African American girl who's always stuck in the dressing rooms help me. But when it came time to check out, and I wanted to find a necklace to match the Tracy Reese dress I've been eyeing for over a week, and you hemmed and hawed before handing the dress to me from behind the counter, I knew nothing had changed. What's your deal anyway? Why can't I take the dress that I'm buying, from behind the counter, and try and find a necklace for it? Do you make sure that ALL your customers aren't allowed to carry merchandise around the store, or is it just me? What do you think I'm gonna make a run for it when no one is looking and dash out the store, dress in hand, sensor attached, sirens blaring behind me??? Get a life moron, I just want a stinking necklace.

I was so ready to be done with you, but then I remembered I wanted to see if you had that adorable blue tunic in any other sizes or colors. So politely I asked if you would mind checking on that for me, and without even lifting a finger to check your computer, you just stared me down and said "No". Come on! I didn't realize you had every single piece of clothing in your store memorized with all their particular size and color details. How smart you must be! I can't believe you even made me ask you to please double check on that for me - you ought to be ashamed of yourself. If a customer is having to ask you to please double check on something, and can smell out your lies like the bad, rotting egg that you are, there is DEFINITELY something wrong. After consulting your computer, you stared back at me with your cold, dead, fish eyes and pronounced that no, that tunic comes only up to a size 10. Ok, I took you at your word, and we moved on.

Oh, by the way - I went online yesterday afternoon, as soon as I got home, and guess what? That tunic - It comes in another color and two more sizes. Did you even check online for me, or did you simply move the mouse around and type in a few random keys to make me think you were looking? Why would you not want to sell me something I want? And why the heck did you lie to me? I'm going back in there today, btw, and I'm going to ask you to order that tunic for me. In the size I want. In the color I want. Shipping free, on your store. Because that's how I roll, and you better get used to it.

But I digress. The rest of our time together yesterday, once you started ringing me up, was no better. As a matter of fact, your meager attempts at service were such a joke. I'm buying a dress and a necklace, for goodness sake - that's a decent sale, yet you still managed to get your snide little quips in there. "So, this is all you're buying?" Yep, that's it honey. "You tried on a lot of tops, didn't you want to buy any of those?" Well if I did, they'd be up here at the counter, in your grimy little clutches, and you'd be ringing them up, now wouldn't you?

Here's the deal - I don't know what I ever did to piss you off, or to get on your bad side. But I'm pretty sure your intense dislike of me has been a one-sided issue, up til now. But you can't treat customers this way. Heck, you can't treat people this way. You're rude. And snotty. And frankly sweetie, you don't have much to be snotty about. You're pretty average, working retail, with a bad 80's rock-chick haircut, which thankfully it looks like you're trying to grow out.

Get over yourself, and start treating people nicely. If you're unhappy in your life, in your job, whatever, get over it and make a change. But don't think that because you read a book on how to be a snob it makes you any good at it. I wrote that book honey. And you're getting a big, fat F! I almost feel sorry for you, because frankly, you're losing at a game you shouldn't even trying to be playing. And in the meantime, you're giving your store a bad reputation.

So, here's the deal - other than going back in, and ordering that tunic today, I'm gonna stay out of your way, and please, stay out of mine. You can have the SLP store, and leave me Arbor Lakes and Edina. Don't transfer, and I won't visit. But take my words to heart - I see right through you, and you're a sad little vixen with a bad haircut and a grimy greasy heart. You're the Grinch of Anthro. And I don't like you.

With all the niceties I could muster, and a whole lotta honesty,
Yours truly,

Trinette.

BABIES - Pretty much a good thing.

2010-05-10T08:47:00.000-05:00

I'm pretty sure the Bot directed this movie, in her spare time. But I could be wrong. Either way, I want to go see it this week, and plan on reviewing it as soon as I do. I'm sure my reviews will be something along the lines of single word sentences, followed by multiple exclamation points, ala "CUTE!!!" and "ADORABLE!!!!!"

Either way, Babies - How can you not love them?

Postscript to Hiding In Plain Sight. Subtitle: A Good Solution

2010-05-09T18:12:00.005-05:00

I've decided. I'm gonna shake the blues that have me all twitterpated today, and choose to find joy in the good life that I have. Tonight I'm gonna find something good to do with my time that will send these needless and senseless blues packing away. I think it's 1.) time to start on Chlo-Bot's quilt, and 2.) maybe watch some old Bones episodes, and 3.) eat some spicy Thai or Chinese food for dinner. Woooo.... Bonus #4 - I found my journal, and haven't journaled any prayers for while, that would be a great end to the evening!! Four things that are bound to bring me joy. Four things that are a better solution than feeling sorry for myself or wondering if I'm really depressed or not.

And because I haven't in a long, long time, here's a few more things that remind me how greatly I'm loved, from the TLP.

1. Psalm 17:7 - "Show me the wonder of your great love, you who save by your right hand those who take refuge in you from their foes." I guess you could say it's the TLP theme verse

2. Amazing kids that I get to teach. How did I get to be so blessed as to lead them in truth and spend time just talking and teaching them every week? Truly, I don't deserve such an honor and a privelege.

3. Being told I'm anything but boring, from one of the most fun, spirited and lively women I know. Denice, I heart you.

4. Remembering that God is faithful to me, more than I ever could be faithful to seek Him out. Wow, grace is a beautiful thing.

(Oh, the TLP - or The Love Project for you newcomers to my blog. When did I stop writing down a new way I'm shown God's love for me daily? Silly wabbit - it's time to reinstate that in my life. )

The time I've been given here to do something with my life is too short for me to waste it feeling blue or sorry for myself. It's time to buck up buttercup, and to remember that there is much to look forward to and take joy in, in this life, even amongst all the crap that's out there competing for my attention too. Yeah, I can hide in plain sight, but what good is a lamp under a basket? Today, I hope that my life would be beautiful glowing candlelight, reflecting joy. This, I think, would be a good decision.

Hiding In Plain Sight

2010-05-09T17:16:00.006-05:00

Someone asked me if I was depressed the other day. "So what if I am?", was my first response, my gut reaction. In talking about it with another friend yesterday, he told me that being asked that was nothing he wouldn't do also, and that if he was suspicious that I was he'd call me out on it. I'm afraid he's not the only one that would do so either. Urgh!

If I am depressed, I doubt anyone would ever really know it either. I feel like I hide in plain sight pretty well. I know the right answers, I smile and look pretty. I can fake it pretty darn well - hell, I've been doing it for years. "What would be your dead giveaway?", I want to ask these people who are so apt to call me out on my melancholia? But I don't, because I know deep down they only care. And also I know that it could lead into a conversation about my tells, and frankly, if I keep them, I keep a part of me that I'm refusing to surrender out of stubbornness. Sometimes I do hide a pretty wicked case of the blues. But knowing that I'm keeping this secret, I need to ask myself these questions - Is it right? Is it healthy? Is it good for me? No, and I know that. Does that reduce the temptation to do it anyways? Not always. Most days I'm lucky to be living vulnerably and authentically, and am kept from doing something that I could so easily get away with, hiding it all away. Most days I'm surrendered to that fact. Today I'm fighting it like a wild stallion being bridled.

I guess I'm just upset today, and I can't figure out why. Mother's Day does this to me. A few MD's back my mom and I got into a huge fight that ended a week later with her in a terribly bad situation and left me feeling guilty for years after. I walk on eggshells every single Mother's Day, and I straddle the line between being grateful for the mom's in my life that pour their love into me almost daily, and feeling sorry for myself because of the broken relationship my own mother and I have. How do I celebrate something that I don't experience with much joy or excitement?

Sometimes I just want a normal, happy, 1950's family. Other times I just want to be left alone. Sometimes I'm close to being depressed, yes. But I always count my blessings and know that my joy comes from God, who loves me like no earthly parent ever will. There is a fine line, a strict balance between the blues that want to overtake me and a heart of gratitude. No matter how my emotions feel one day to the next, I know I'll be ok.

Today, as I was driving home from our Mother's Day brunch, where I was blessed with the company of people who love me, I couldn't help but just want to listen to sad songs. First "Nobody Girl" by Ryan Adams came on, and it couldn't have been more appropriate.

Better off as a fool than the owner of that kind of heart,
They don't know you anyway
They don't know you and they don't watch you walk away
Just a nobody girl....
You say you follow you heart
Well honey, you're just being lost
You say you follow your gut
Well honey how much does it cost?
They don't know you anyway
They don't know you and they don't watch you walk away
Just a nobody girl.

But a few minutes later, this song came on. I think it fits much better, and at the end of the car ride, it's the one I'm going to walk away singing

In open fields of wildflowers

She breathes the air and flies away

She thanks her Jesus for the daisies and the roses

In no simple language

Someday she'll understand the meaning of it all

He's more than the laughter or the stars in the heaven

As close as a heartbeat or song on her lips

Someday she'll trust Him, learn how to see Him

Someday He'll call her and she will come running

And fall in His arms, the tears will fall down and she'll pray

"I want to fall in love with You."

Bringing Sexy Back

2010-05-06T11:10:00.012-05:00

Things I Think Are Hot:

- a stack of books by an unmade bed

- the smell of any sort of tobacco (well, not chewing)

- laughing so hard you can't stop, or you snort, or both

- guys who wear glasses

- sweat pants on a Saturday at home

- art museums

- rain soaked hair

- old black & white movies. Double points for anything Hitchcock.

- ordering a Manhattan

- community naps

- down comforters

- hats

- buttery, supple leather

- ummm, armpits?

- unexpected winks

- camping

- bedhead

- the smell of night blooming jasmine in the summer air

- Jimmy Stewart, Jack Shepherd, Sophia Loren, Conan O'Brien and Rachel Weisz

- dancing to your own beat

- Brittish accents

- eating with chopsticks. Double points if it's spicy Thai food.

- "You want the moon? I'll lasso the moon for you!"

- Good guys. Keep your bad boys, I don't want 'em.

- knowing you're at ease in your own skin, and just going with it.

- substantial eyebrows

- going out for breakfast

- sighs

- libraries

- baseball.

An Early Mother's Day Message

2010-04-30T11:02:00.003-05:00

Sometimes I just want my mom. Which is totally ironic, because the thing I want my mom for most, is comfort. And I wouldn't necessarily categorize my mom in the "gentle, nurturing, and comforting" category. Matter of fact, if someone was to play my mom in a movie of her (or mine, for that matter) life, it would be a cross between Roseanne Barr and Susan Sarandon. Susan Sarandon pulls off the vodka swilling, pill popping, devil may care, worldly sophistication like no one else can, and Roseanne, well, let's just say it's a given, DUR. Sidenote: My mom will probably read this, and be royally pissed off at me for two months, but whatever mom, I'm a big girl, I do what I want, and I'm not saying anything that's not true so get over yourself and move on. BTW - I love you just way you are.

My point is this: Sometimes I just want to be comforted, in that head in the lap, hair stroked, don't worry baby, it's gonna be okay kinda way that we associate only with our mom's. But because my mom is neither that kinda gal, and because she lives thousands of miles away, it just never happens and I am left feeling sadly hollow. This is never something that really occured for me growing up either, so where I got this picture of motherly comfort from is beyond me. But as an adult, I have not outgrown the need to just be comforted in a kind and gentle, reassuring way sometimes.

I say that I have no idea where this need for comfort has come from, and in all honesty, I know that's not true. I think we all have this need deep down inside somewhere. Even the strongest, toughest, most independant, motorcycle riding burly guys love their moms and have the tats to prove it. As human beings, we are fragile, emotionally and physically, and the need for comfort is a way of hearing that our inherent fragility is well, ok. Whether that's from our mom's, or just in general, comfort and reassurance is something that at one time or another we all have needed, whether we can identify it or not.

In a way, it's awe inspiring to think of our own fragility. We are not tough creatures, invincible, all powerful and godlike. And though we are made in the image of God and do, to some limited extent, have strength, we are still just fragile, vulnerable creation. As Shakespeare's character Shylock asked in the Merchant of Venice "If you prick us, do we not bleed?If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us,do we not die?" Yeah, we're kinda weak like that. And that's something I'm okay with. Just as I enjoy being a woman, for all the reasons that I'm not a man (softer skin, softer hair, the ability to bear children, emotional acuity, breasts), I enjoy being weak for all the reasons that I'm not strong. I like to know that I need a Savior, someone who died for me, because I could never do this life on my own. Someone that will take care of me, protect me, love me, nurture me, be my Guardian, my Hero. I am okay with being weak, because in it, I can receive comfort, both earthly, and from the only One who can truly offer it perfectly and wholly - my wonderful Father God - and that feels really, really good.

Anyways, lately, as I'm going through this life in such raw state of emotional fragility and open, apparent vulnerability, the thing I'm craving most is just to lay my head in my mom's lap, have her rub my hair and coo that she loves me and it's going to be ok. It may be only partially true, but I just want to hear it. I'm without a home, without a job, without a plan, and right now, without my mom. It kinda hurts sometimes. So what I want to say is this - Wherever you are out there mom, know that for all your faults, your occasional lack of sensitivity, the way you never listen to me on the phone and your general quirkiness, I really do love you, and am glad that you're my mom. I wouldn't trade you for any other model. You've helped shape me into the resilient, sarcastic, tough as nails fighter that I am, and for that I'm grateful. You've also shown me the importance of being a comforter, being someone who offers reassurance and sensitivity to others. You've watched football with me, taught me how to cook, made me laugh, definitely made me cry, and most of all, made me really proud to be your daughter.

Happy Mother's Day Cathie. I love you. Now get back to your nap.

Happy Birthday To You.... Whoever You Are.

2010-04-29T09:26:00.003-05:00

Have you ever been out at a store, and seen something, and just known it was PERFECT for someone, and you had to get it, because eventually it was gonna be their birthday, and you could have an excuse to give it to them?

That was me last night, at Barnes & Noble. I'm there to pick up a book about quilting, so I can actually try and be good at it, and as I'm walking to the check out, a book caught my eye. As soon as I saw the title, I just knew it was for this one specific person. And so I bought it, because, like I said, eventually they'll have a birthday, and I'll have an excuse to just give it to them.

Now, I'm not in favor of holding off on gift giving. Heck, I'm all for gift giving year round. We don't need to wait for Christmas or Birthdays to show people we're thinking about them, or to bless them. But sometimes, as in this case, it might be a little awkward to give someone something out of the blue, so a birthday's as good as an excuse as any. And not that I buy into this load of Christianese, but if I had to say what my "Love Language" is (the one I give, not receive) it's gifts. I LOVE getting gifts for people (btw, receiving.... it's touch. Definitely touch). Finding presents that are picture-perfect for my friends and that are representations of their personality brings me great enjoyment. It doesn't have to be big, sometimes it's as little as a card, or a magnet. It really IS the thought that counts.

So this morning when I woke up, and I looked inside my Barnes & Noble bag to pull out my new quilting book, I saw the book, and I inscribed the first page with a little note that conveys the message of "I thought this book was PERFECT for you.". That way if I get hit by a bus and die today, I'll know there's a good chance that this person will get their birthday present, albeit a little early. And that brings me great joy. Well, not the getting hit by a bus and dying part, but you know what I mean.

So, my challenge to you all today is this - think about the last time you just showed someone they are your friend and/or mean something to you, in a way that is out of the ordinary and meaningful. I'm not talking the rudimentary, compulsory pat on the shoulder and "Hey honey, I'm thankful for you" affirmation. I'm talking really thinking about how we show the people around us that we're truly thankful they're in our lives. Think about the last time someone told or showed you that you're special to them, and then remember how it made you feel. I may sound like the Happy Hippie here, but wouldn't the world be a nicer place to live if we all did that for each other a little more often? I'm pretty sure hearing "hey, you're special" today would feel just like a birthday, and who doesn't like those?

A New Hobby

2010-04-27T09:49:00.004-05:00

So, I've started quilting. I started last night. My first project is a baby blanket for the Bot. Baby Chloe, to those of you scratching your chins in confusion right about now. I got the most adorable brown and pink fabrics, with little pictures of Paris, the Eiffle Tower, etc on it, and I can't wait to see the finished result. Despite the fact that this is a super-easy pattern I still am crazy nervous and am pretty sure it's gonna come out spastic. Aaaah, whatever, it's made with love.

I have more fabric, for a little boy's quilt too, and hopefully, if I can pick up the skills necessary to be good at quilting, I'll get more fabric when I go back down to Lansing, before Yellow Bird Art closes out on May 15th. BTW - how sad is that?

In the meantime, I'm honing up my seamstress skills, and hoping that I can someday be as good as my mom is on a sewing machine. I'd love to learn how to make children's clothing, and this picture, of adorably baby Joy, has me totally inspired. In anticipation of being good enough to make children's clothes, I did get a pattern or two at YBA, while they were 50-75% off.

Exciting stuff, and as soon as I can get some pictures up, I will. Yay.... here's to a summer spent sewing. There's worse things in life.

Random Randomness

2010-04-23T11:53:00.005-05:00

Hey it's me. Yeah, me. I just wanted to say that, and don't know why. Actually I do - I have so many things on my mind right now that I couldn't come up with a good intro, and I figured "hey it's me" is as good as any.

I bought a new journal last night. After years of hating journaling (an intense hatred too, the kind where I just refused to do it), I am for the first time in my life actually enjoying it. Having cute journals and nice Sharpie pens helps. It does, really. So last night, after dinner and an ice cream cone (mmmm, Sebastian Joes) with Josh, I dragged him into Patina, where I bought a new journal. I thought he would hate it, but he didn't. We might need to go back.

I wish I would have had said journal with me this week at camp, because there were so many blog post inspirational thoughts floating around in my mind, as I worked my little tail off. I know I had at least three, but only one of them comes back to me right now. I'll have to pray for memory on the other two. And make sure I write them down in my lovely new journal.

Also while at camp this week I took up a new hobby. Well I didn't take it up WHILE at camp, but in anticipation of being at camp this summer, and also while in Lansing, I took up..... wait for it...... Quilting!!! I. Am. SOOOO. Excited!! I can't even begin to tell y'all how excited I am. I bought a pattern that looks ridiculously easy, incorporates a ton of fusing so I don't have to stitch as much as I iron (a househole chore I'm ridiculously good at, and love), and is the perfect size for babies. Because, really, if I'm going to be making quilts, I want to make them for all the kids and babies I love. I don't need a quilt, and don't think I'd have the patience for making full size ones. But I would love to give them to the awesome kids in my life. So I bought some beautiful brown & pink fabrics (for a little girl) and blue/green/purple fabrics (for a little boy) for my very first ones, and I am ready to go.

I have perfect motivation to start it too - I can't begin, literally or figuratively, till I'm done packing. Because A.) I don't have a place to set up, B.) I'm hoping Peggy will let me use her sewing machine and C.) I need to find all my sewing supplies and get them packed up & moved before I can start anything. Oh, and there's the fact that I have a wicked amount of work ahead of me today and tomorrow morning. But, if all goes well and my first one is a success, then I have a whole summer in the middle of nowhere to perfect my craft. I. Am. STOKED!!!!! Seriously.

Speaking of summer plans - I still can't say for sure what I'm doing. I know what I want to be doing. I know what I think I'll be doing. But I am waiting for the people I'd be doing it for/with, to let me know for sure that this is what's happening. And unlike last week, where I was stressing out about it, I'm at a lot more peace about my summer plans.

Being at camp this week helped that a lot, as I went from questioning and doubting that I could "be away and be ok", to enjoying the time away from city lights, noise, constant social networking, and everyone I know. Instead of fighting God, as He tries to get me alone and get my attention, I began to be at peace with it, and desire it more and more. The wanderlust in me began to churn up, as I made the drive on Hwy 9, through rolling valleys of patchworked green. At one point, I wondered if I could just take the change in my pocket, and keep on driving, and end up somewhere that no one knew me, and just start over again. Anonymous and alone. To say that my fight or flight instinct is flight, well, that's an understatement.

But running away for good isn't the answer, and I know that. All running does is drag my broken heart along with me. Instead, one night as I was sitting out on J&A's deck, a campfire next to me, crickets and frogs and God knows what else singing in the background, staring off at the fields of green and the sky carpeted with stars, I knew that being out in the middle of Iowa for the summer was the thing I desired most in my life. To be in a spot where God can get me alone - where He can take me into that desert place to speak love to me. To let Him pour into me, and then in turn to pour all my time and energy into youth ministry. To bring Christ to kids in communities so small that they can't see past the same green fields and starry sky. To help them meet Him, and then to walk with them as they get to know Him more. And let's face it, to not have to see a certain face or hear the same booming laugh twelve times a week. In a big way, I know now that the best thing I can do is get out of Dodge for a while. My heart needs it. My relationship with the Lord needs it. I want it. So I really, really hope it happens.

And I plan on taking a few more journals with me, so maybe another Sebastian Joe's/Patina trip is in order. There is the prospect of quilting in my downtime, that is if I turn out to be any good at it. Even so, I know that pouring out in words all that God does in my life this summer is going to be something I won't want to neglect. Something deep inside tells me that there'll be plenty to write about, and that it's gonna be pretty good.

Hindsight is 20/20

2010-04-16T08:43:00.002-05:00

So, I've been freaking out a bit lately. Ask anyone who knows me. I've been at the verge of tears with a single glance, avoiding answering questions, though they get thrown at me by everyone I know, because the only answer I have is "I don't know". I've been scared, uncertain, paralyzed by all the things I don't know and can't control, subject to dealing with emotions I thought had long been forgotten, and I'm a little on edge these days. It's been crazy. For the first time in a long time, really been brought to my knees in vulnerability and humility. Yeah, God's breaking me. Isn't that great?

Actually it is. Because I realized, that I'm not seeing the bigger picture, and it's exactly what He wants to do, not just what He needs to do. This is such a wonderful thing! And after going back last night and reading my journal for the last two months, I see that it's not just what He wants to do, but what I've wanted Him to do to all along.

Imagine my surprise when last night I went back and was reading excerpts from things I wrote in February, and March, where I ask Him

"Please have your way with me. Do whatever it is You know You need to do to bring me closer to You. I just want to follow You, with all my heart and every fiber of my being. Make it happen."

And then another passage, when I was on the beach in California, before so much changed in my life, when I wrote

"My only desire is to be right where You are. I don't want to do Your work, I want to join YOU in the work You're already doing, and get to participate in what You've already started. Don't let me start anything new, in and of my own strength or ideas. Show me what You've already got brewing, and let me help out."

Later on I wrote

"The thing that brings me the most joy, that lights up my face like beautiful, glowing candlelight, is just being around our Youth Group and loving on them. Can there be more joy in serving You? I have to wonder. If there is, I selfishly desire it, but only if it's what You want for me. What DO You want for me Father? What would You have me be doing with my life? Surely, this can't be it - this pointless job, this selfish following after my own desires, this status quo. Was I meant for more? If so, can You please show me what, and then like a Father holding their child's hand as they walk them out into the sweeping tide, can you gently lead me into it? Please don't throw me in the water, but please let me get my feet wet."

I wrote that three days before losing my job. Do you think He answers prayers??

I don't know where or into what God is leading me. I don't know if He's gonna give me the opportunity to pursue youth ministry, in a greater capacity, for the rest of my life, or for just this summer. I don't know where I'm gonna work, and I don't know where I'm gonna live. I don't know when I'm gonna move, and I don't know where I'm gonna end up. I don't know how I feel from one day to the next, or how much more uncertainty I can take. I have no answers friends (really, I don't, so if you want to love on me, please stop asking and just be patient, as I'm having to learn to be). I only know that like a blind man, dying of thirst, staggering pointlessly through the desert, I need Him that bad! I cannot even point myself in the right directions. I can only desire, communicate and then wait.

As soon as He lets me know, I'll pass it along. Promise.

Pscyzho

2010-03-29T13:22:00.001-06:00

I'm not pschyzophrenic, I swear. I'm just a little overwhelmed. And fighting some sweet insomnia. And by sweet I mean, not really that sweet. I'm reading Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter by Seth Graham Smith (sp?). Maybe I shouldn't read it before bed, lest I continue to wake up in a panic attack about work and the Civil War. In any case, today, as I try to sort things out in my life, what I want to do, what I'm qualified to do, I'm just overwhelmed again. Thankful, but overwhelmed. Moving this week should only add to that misery, I'm sure. Well back to resume writing. Oh fun. Not.

All The Smiles I Know*

2010-03-28T13:27:00.002-06:00

Wherever we're coming from today, there are millions of reasons to be excited, to be joyful, and to smile. Here are all the smiles I know today (aka things to be thankful for/reasons to be joyful):

It's Palm Sunday people - let's shout Hosanna! Over 2000 years ago, my great and mighty King entered His city triumphantly, and the people turned and worshipped. A week later they brutally killed Him. (Not to worry, three days later He socked it to 'em and rose from the dead, conquering the grave.) Today, I smile knowing that He still reigns, in my heart and from His throne. I smile knowing that one day He will enter that city again, and all knees will bow before Him. He is so mighty, my beautiful King.

I know the best kids. Seriously I do. They fight invisible lions, search for buried treasure, are bunnies, and puppies and crimefighters and superheroes and princesses and fairy unicorns. And each one of them is just amazingly wonderfully unique and fantastic in their own way. They sing to the Lord, and talk of His great love with wide, awestruck eyes. They go out of their way fearlessly, to be open, and welcoming and loving. They live without the social hindrances that us adults impose on ourselves, to be cool, to hide our enthusiasm, to reign in our love. They'll shout their hellos from across a crowded room, and run up an aisle because they're excited about church. I can't express in words how my heart brims up and spills over with love for them, and pride at seeing who they are, and joy when I'm in their presence. All I can do is just smile, really really big and authentically and goofily. I have them to thank for that.

And if the little kids I know are great (and they are) how much more so the young adults I know? I'm continually amazed at how their godly character continues to reveal itself amidst hilarious senses of humor, slightly humbling intelligence and culture defying politeness. I have nothing but a giant "Pshaw" to those people out there who will say that they aren't extraordinary, much less good kids, because they make fart jokes or tease too sarcastically. Do we really fail to see that they truly are great, just the way they are? Or are we so dead set on believing they're not, because we don't expect them to be, based on our own staunch biases against their generation? People, let's not be so caught up in expecting them to be mediocre and undeserving of our respect or praise, that we actually fail to see that they defy those stereotypes completely! They deserve so much more from us, both in admiration and in continuing to challenge and push them to grow. To all their critics, whether parents or just other adults, I say back off! Because personally, I am crazy proud of them, honored to work alongside them, and excited to watch and see how God will continue to shape them into the adult servants of Himself that He has them poised to be. Life at the cusp, with their limitless potential, is exciting! Let's help them learn to greet it with a smile.

Sometimes the little things make me smile too. Listening to a friend crack himself up at his own jokes, getting a new book (Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter. YEESSSS!!!), bright sunshiney days, the fast approach of sundress weather, Holy Week, knowing Easter's right around the corner, singing my favorite hymns, sitting around just chatting with friends, laughing when they put their foot in their mouth and try to backpedal only to dig deeper, driving with the windows down, Sunday naps.....speaking of which, it's about time.

When I was a kid, we were pretty poor, and after my parent's divorced, my mom and I had to share a bedroom in a little one bedroom place. I remember laying in bed, the moon shining in through our curtainless windows, reflecting off my mom's bright, gleaming white teeth, and getting really annoyed. Who sleeps with a smile? I'd lean over to wake her up and tell her "Close your mouth. I can't sleep because your smile is too bright and it's keeping me up!" I'm sure that today, as I rush home to crawl in bed and get my Sunday nap in, lulled by the sound of birds chirping outside, I'll be a chip off the old block, smiling as I fall asleep. Even in a world that's overwhelming, with decisions and choices and responsibilities and fears, life is good. God is good. His blessings in my life are just another smile I know.

*P.S. Props to my awesome friend Micah for the blog post title inspiration.

Drowing In A Sea Of Noise

2010-03-27T09:42:00.002-06:00

I'm overwhelmed. Really, really overwhelmed right now. And that totally scares me. What scares me more than the feeling is my own reaction. My natural instinct in situations like these is to shut down. True story.

I'm the kind of person that when the picture gets too big to look at and gain full scope of, I curl up into a ball and become completely paralyzed. When there's too many choices, too much advice, too many things that need to be done, I don't know where to start and so I assume the fetal position and do nothing at all. I pray that I can just wait it out with as little damage as possible, like a turtle retreating into her shell.

Recently, I was praying over a course of action in a friendship that I really value. Do I say something to this friend about where I'm coming from, or just shut my mouth and hope for the best? From left and right, above and below, really from every direction, advice was being thrown at me as to what to do. Even if the number of people that were inputting their thoughs and recommendations for my situation was limited, the repetition and persistance of their advice was like an out of tune band, warming up, each instrument seperately, echoing in a vast auditorium. Just a cacophany of indiscernable noise drowning out my own thoughts as it overwhelmed my ears & brain. It finally got to the point that I just had to say "Stop. Be quiet. Let me think, and decide how to do this on my own." The fact that I said anything at all was truly indicative of how much the noise was overwhelming me, because that kind of confrontation is so contrary to my passive nature.

Eventually I was able to let the noise around me fade away, and hear from the Lord. His still, small voice was reminding me to do all things in humility, honoring my friend before myself, and to seek Him first because He's truly the lover of my soul. It wasn't till I got everyone else to shut up that I could hear what He was telling my heart all along. And as I heard from Him, I realized that His advice was nowhere near the advice anyone else was giving me. In His advice, I, for the first time in the situation, had peace which gave me courage to move forward.

The noise was gone. His voice whispered to my heart, and I could breathe once again - breath that gave me life, and the ability to do what I needed to do.

Right now, that's all I want! As I'm feeling that onslaught of noise once again, this time about my career, and job search, my heart is retreating to fear and confusion as it's natural reaction and armour. But neither fear or confusion are bound up in perfect love - the love that my God has poured into me. But sadly, overwhelmed beyond measure by decisions and advice, is how I'm feeling again, as I contemplate the next few months/weeks/days ahead of me as a newly jobless/homeless person.

Really, how the hell did I end up here?

I know things will work out ok, I really do. I'm not failing to trust in God to meet all my needs, and provide for me out of His goodness and mercy. What I am scared of is how broken, vulnerable and humbled He might have to make me in the process. As well as the fact that I am just overwhelmed with all the steps I need to take to get something going in my life - a job, a home, a plan, a ministry, etc.

I'm a pretty open, authentic person. So as I blog today, because I know have the newly acquired time, I'm just laying this out there. I'm totally overwhelmed and feel like I am just bobbing in a sea of choices and actions that need to be taken. I really could use a Life Jacket, God. Can you just throw me a line? Thanks, that would be great. Oh yeah, and if You could just attach Your plan at the end of it, that would be great too. Thanks, your slightly overwhelmed, moderately fearful, pretty much an open book daughter. T.

Things To Be Thankful For

2010-03-23T13:08:00.003-06:00

So, I lost my job today. I'd be lying if I said I didn't see it coming, though the time that I was allowed to view it as a pending possibility was very brief. Less than a week. There's a lot I could say about it, but frankly, it's still pretty fresh in my mind so I think discretion and a mouth as tight lipped as a bad clam is the best bet. All I know is this, I have a lot to be thankful for, and I'd be denying the truth if I tried to act surprised.

Sometimes, when God moves, we can see the dust cloud looming on the horizon, moving towards us like the Tazmanian Devil in some Bugs Bunny cartoon, zigzagging all over the place. Kicking up dirt, it gets closer, and closer, and all the while it's still undiscernable till boom it's right on us and SURPRISE! But whatever. Hey, He did lead with a cloud and a pillar of fire, it's not inconceivable, right?

I think this situation was like that, just a lot more subtle. Things have been churning in my heart after a conversation with a friend over a month ago about my passion for youth ministry. He got me thinking and praying about whether or not I should pursue it more, even if I pshawed it at the time. Then this past weekend, I was allowed the amazing privilege of a weekend at the beach, to hear from and be in prayer with other youth ministry workers. During that time I was able to sit on some rocks, jeans rolled up and feet in the water, bible and journal in hand. As I stared out at the rhythym of crashing waves, I lifted up thanks to my Lord for all He's done in my life, including allowing me a great, well paying job that gives me the freedom to spend my free time in youth ministry. Was I jumping the gun? Or was He seeing me as too comfortable? Or is it just a coincidence? Or the natural consequence of a crappy economy and faulty empires? One of the things I'm questioning today is deeper than "will I have to work at McDonalds?" - it's my previous blind adherence to strict Calvinism (because well, I'm a Baptist, I thought it's what we do). But more on that later.

So, after an amazing weekend spent on the beach, surrounded by passionate, fun, dedicated lovers of God, I came home questioning (in a big way) where my life is going, but more importantly, where I wanted it to go. What am I doing with my life? That was the question I asked on my Facebook status yesterday. Someone commented, more to the point, "What is God doing with your life?" and then reminded me that He's doing all the work. "Make sure you're bendable. it helps with the pain. trust me ♥", she wrote. Ahh, B, my little prophetess friend, your words are so timely right now!

So, now recently thrust into the swarming masses of the recently unemployed, I can really sit back and say "God, You can do anything with my life right now." I'm soon to be out of a place to live, now out of a job, but completely wide open to whatever He wants to do. It's freaking humbling people! Humiliating versing humbling is gonna have to be another post for another time, but trust me, it feels a whole lotta both right now. Yet, I really do have a lot to be thankful for. I can actually go to the gym without waking up at 5:20 to do it. For a while at least. I can enjoy the springtime from something other than a windowless cubicle under flourescent lighting. I can go to playgroup and spend time with all my favorite kids. I can see God grow my faith, my trust and my dependance upon Him as I look for a job. I can come back to the rememberance that my life isn't 40 hours a week at a corporation, it's how open I can be to letting God use me in the lives of others around me, to show off His glory, goodness and love. It's being open to His great big, or great little, plan for my life, and revelling in the unexpectedness of it.

This afternoon, as I head to lunch with Josh (something else to be thankful for!) I feel like I'm standing on a cracked, parched desert floor. The Lord has just swept by me, in a cloud of dust, but I think I see Him turning around and coming back this way. He's never too far away. I hope that when He passes by again, I can just grab ahold and hang on tight. I have a feeling it's gonna be a wild ride.

Home Sick.

2010-03-11T08:34:00.002-06:00

No, not homesick, as in I miss California, though sometimes when the weather gets all grey and dreary like this I do. I'm talking I'm home - sick. Ick. Stick. Snick. With a cold. Bold. Sold. Rolled. I'm into rhyming these days, can you tell? Anybody want a peanut? (Bright shiny dime for the first person to call that reference!)

And as I'm home, sick, I'm thinking about California. Not because I'm homesick, like I said, but because in about a week I'll be there. Basking in the glorious sun and warmth of California in March. Breathing deeply one of my favorite scents in all the beautiful earth (besides "Flaming June" the new perfume from Anthropologie that I'm obsessed with) - the salty, briney air of the ocean. Hearing the rhythmic crashing of waves and the "gawwing" of gulls in the background. Oh how I really do love the beach.

Now let's make some clarifications here though - would it be me if I ever did anything normal??? When I say I love the beach, I'm not talking the neon colored, people infested, 100 degree plus, show off your tan & muscles in something skimpy, kind of beach where everyone is checking everyone out. I'm talking cold, grey, rainy, isolated, craggy, rocky beaches, where you have to wear an Irish fisherman's sweater to keep the damp cold at bay, and the waves threaten to overtake the land, spraying salty air up into a mist that covers you from head to toe. Oregon beaches, Brittish beaches. You know? The kind of beaches where a lone, unidentified traveler can wash upon the shore and lay there half dead before someone rescues them, only to find true love amongst the shrouded mystery of their identity. Not the kind of beach where Jaws attacks some blonde in a yellow bikini while overstuffed mom's holding ice coolers shriek in terror. Grrrr.

Actually I had a conversation with a good friend a while back about how I love the beach. This person does not share my affinity for the beach. He just said it was pointless, to just sit there and do nothing. Afterwards I thought to myself, but he's probably thinking the kind of beaches I abhore. Of course it would be awful to sit on that kind of beach and do nothing. Egads! On the kind of beach I love, that's exactly what you're supposed to do. Just sit there, stare at the endless, bottomless sea and do nothing. Ahhhh, sweet joy!

And since where I'm going next week is Monterey CA, therefore Northern California, instead of say Venice Beach, which is decidedly SoCal in every way, shape and form, I think I should be pretty safe in finding what I'm looking for on the beach there. Which is precisely nothing. Quiet. Solitude. Tranquility amongst rocky sand and salty air. The chance to just sit, listen, breathe, and watch the tide come sweeping in and out, in and out, in an out. Just a chance to spend some time alone with my God, Him and me, on the beach. The best vacation ever.

Granted, I'm not just going there for this reason, to be alone. I'm actually going there with a group of people for a Youth Leadership Summitt. And in all honesty, though I say I will find what I'm looking for out on the beaches alone, I have a feeling that my time there will look nothing like what I picture, or what I want. Let's face it - I'll be at a resort, with a boatload of other people, and I doubt that even in March the weather will be cold or bracing, even in Northern California. So, buh-bye Fisherman's Sweater, windwhipped hair and lonely walks on the beach with my Jesus. Buh-bye romantic notions of sitting, knees pressed to my chest, and just listening to the natural sounds all around me, without a soul for miles.

Meh.

But.... Hello to being surrounded by tons of other people who are there to learn more about the one area I am most passionate about right now - Youth ministry. This could be good. Though I may miss out on my pseudo-Wuthering Heights walks on the beach, I am excited that I will get to meet people who have far more experience and knowledge in this area than myself. And I want to pick their brains. I am actually really excited about going to this conference and learning more about working with youth, and hope to soak as much as I can in, both from the sessions and the people I will meet.

Especially because in the last few months I have become positively off my rocker crazy about our band of youth group kids. As well as the ones who will eventually grow up and join those ranks. But mostly for the tiny little group that I get to see and spend time with every Wednesday night. I know they think I'm a dork, and frankly, I don't care. I won't deny I'm a dork. But I will fight to prove that I am just crazy about each and every one of them. They make me laugh, they make me smile, they make me sad when I think of the things in their life that they might be facing or dealing with. I have this overflowing heart of love for them, and if I am a dork around them, it's only becaues I really don't know how to reign all that in.

They are so wonderfully special, and beautiful, and crazy cool in so many different ways. Each one of them is like this amazing bud, that hasn't quite opened up yet, and so though through the delicate, transparent petals, you can see what they might be like inside, the full potential of who they are is still being formed. And I am wicked excited to see who that will be.

I'm not just limiting this passion to the high schoolers and the junior high schoolers either. The little kids, the ones in my Sunday School class, the kindergarden and first graders, they too fill my heart with joy unbounding and bring a huge grin to my face every time I see them. I just want to spend time with them, listen to them, hear what they're thinking, what's important in their life, what makes them tick, makes them laugh, makes them sad, what worries them, what are their concerns, what are the things that make them happy. And I wonder, do they even know how much they bring me joy? I wonder. I flat out miss all these kids when I'm not at church. The weekends I go down to camp, like this weekend, I think of them, and am sad to not see them and to not spend time with them. I feel so strongly this way, I'm almost tempted to just not go, but then again, there needs to be balance, and I know that missing them like this drives me to spend more time with them outside of those four church walls, and that is important too.

So, even though my traipsing about the stormy beach alone fantasies may never see the dull grey light of day, I am sure I will be more than content in what God does bring to the table next week. I pray that it will better prepare me to build relationships and be there for the amazing kids in my life. I pray that I will learn new ways to help them grow and reach their full potential. I hope that God will move in my heart, to challenge me in what I'm doing with my life, including my own views on youth ministry. I can definitely think of one recent conversation where my viewpoints on the differences between being a youth leader and a youth pastor were more than challenged. And I am thankful that they were, because through that conversation wheels began to turn, and questions began to form regarding what I really believe verses what I really want. I only wish I could reconcile what I sense in my own mind to be right, against all that I have believed till now, patriarchal and conservative as it is. Instead I'm being challenged by my Lord to see things anew, in the glowing far off light of what He may want to do with this ever growing passion for youth ministry that lives inside me. Grrrrr, for challenges! Yaaay for challenges!!!

Even so, I am more than excited about this Summitt, and the opportunity it will afford to delve deeper into this area of ministry. Granted it's not going to be a a deserted Oregon beach, but I am confident that I will meet my Jesus there anyways, and can only hope He'll deliver on the salty air and sea monster settings. Heck, He created them, so I'm pretty sure He will.

TLP II

2010-01-24T22:51:00.002-06:00

Here are my TLP's for this weekend.... I promise I won't do this all the time. It might get old. But tonight, I wanted to blog (since I've missed it so much), and really, have nothing more on my heart than to share the wonders of God's love for us. So, without further ado....

How God reminded me of His love this weekend, aka, TLP, part II.

1. & 2. For that matter, are the same. Fellowship.

Saturday it was through the fellowship of two amazing friends, both "Loaded Potatoes" and wonderful, amazingly funny and cool women of God, who I am still astounded that I even get to be friends with. They're that cool. As we sat at Starbucks, latte's in hand, talking about vulnerability and relationships and independance and Him, all I could think about was how God has given us not just friends, but truly a body, made up of many parts, that is His church. For we share in the joys of friendship, but are brought together spiritually through the blood we are mutually washed in. And all of this for His glory and our joy.

Yet today, as I buckled against the fears and issues I have with feeling left out of the loop, or purposefully ignored, I found solace in the comfort of my married friends. During this time of interpersonal struggle, I stopped to pause, and think that no matter what our labels are, single, married, old, young, popular, a loner, whatever, we are all God's children, part of His body, and are made to work together, ascribing no one as a lesser member, but honoring all equally. Tough to do sometimes, when personal feelings come into play. How do we not show favortism to those we love, or get along best with? How do we show honor to those that we'd rather ignore? Fellowship isn't just the fruit of an action, the benefit of what God calls us to. It's a job sometimes too. Something to work at, and be disciplined about. Something He desires for us, has created us for, and we grow greatly, and sometimes difficultly through.

There is joy in fellowship - all kinds of it. The joy you get when young kids want to spend time with you, and think you're special. Crazy kids! The joy you get when you can spend sometime hearing from parents, or grandparents, and gleaning from their wisdom and love and seeing life from their more experienced perspective. There is much to be learned in fellowship, much that can stretch us. Sometimes it's just the act itself, of being in fellowship, that can be stretching, as this sometimes self-appointed loner can attest to. But this weekend, not only am I joyfully glad for the privilege of sharing in it, but I'm praising our wonderful Father, who in His wisdom and forethought, created us with a need and desire for it. Well done, Dad, well done.

The Love Project

2010-01-23T11:19:00.004-06:00

So, as anyone within a ten foot radius of me in the last month well knows, I’m a huge advocate of asking God how much He loves me. I must sound like a little kid to Him, constantly asking Him “Do you love me? Do you love me? Do you love me?”. “Hey, me again. Do you love me? Ok, just checking.” Ummm, insecure much?

Yeah, I totally am painfully insecure, and am not a person who realizes she’s loved easily. Even when people will tell me that, tangibly, to my face, as in the case of my amazing bestie K, I often think it’s more lip service, and something we say like “I’m American, therefore I’m Christian”, than the real thing. For instance, “I love you Trin” translates in my brain as “I put up with you, cuz we’re friends. And you’re just ok”. But what does it really mean to be loved, wildly loved by the Creator of this universe? That’s something I’m still discovering, through the beautiful relationship my Heavenly Father has cultivated with me.

I ask Him all the time to remind me He loves me. And sometimes it’s through pink sunrises and Newsboys songs that He answers me. Sometimes it’s through His word, like being reminded that “The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing." (Zephaniah 3:17 or something). Other times it’s an inescapable feeling of peace and being cradled in the palm of His great big hand, like one of those Anne Geddes pictures of tiny babies dressed up like vegetables and what not. Usually that happens as I’m falling asleep, and I have to tell you, there’s nothing better to fall asleep to. At all.

But this past weekend, a speaker at a retreat I was at shared something that at first I thought was totally cheesy, but has been on my mind to do today. I’m gonna call it “The Love Project” and I’m totally ripping it off from her.

Here’s the 411 on The Love Project. Every day I’m going to write a different post-it note to myself, with one way that God shows me how He loves me. This is great, because I just got a brand new pack of super-bright, Caribbean color-schemed, Super-Sticky Post-It notes. Thank you Jesus & 3M. They're the classic 3”x3” size too. I do get a little fanatical about my office supplies, I’m not gonna lie to you.

So, Thursday I did my first one. My first TLP note, and I dated it and in my heart, I said “God, what’s one way I know you love ME?” And I wrote down “Pink sunrises and the perfect Wreck from Potbelly”. Come on let’s face it, I’m not always the deepest.

But I know that for the next few months, or years or however long this goes, I will have plenty of fodder, plenty of stuff to write down. Here’s a few that come to mind, to get me started:

Ummm, helloooo.... He died on the cross! Dur.
He didn’t just stay there, but He rose again, and is making a place for us to be with Him forever.
And I’m pretty sure it’s gonna rock.
He Reigns by the Newsboys
Pink Sunrises
Jeremiah 31:3&4 “The Lord appeared to us in the past, saying: "I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with loving-kindness. I will build you up again and you will be rebuilt, O Virgin Israel. Again you will take up your tambourines and go out to dance with the joyful.”
The smell of babies’ heads.
Chloe, when she smiles at me. That baby has an amazing, light up the room smile.
Every time Celia asks me to have another sleepover at my house.
Ephesians 5:1-2 “Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.”
A hug from M – she really means it & holds on tight.
Glee songs
Romans 8. All of it.
Falling asleep to tears as I know He holds me (see cradled in the palm of His hand reference above)
Hearing from K that she’s still my best friend and biggest cheerleader
The perfect Campfire Mocha, with lots of marshmallows.
Knowing that He does not deal with me according to my transgressions, but has given me a huge heaping measure of grace and mercy, beyond what I could ever deserve, ask for or imagine. I am sooooo not punished like I need to be. Whew.
Just stopping to think about it all. His love, that is.
Going to the MIA.
Art in general
Colossians 3:12-15 “Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity. Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful.”
Just Haven’t Met You Yet by Michael Buble…. And the knowledge that if God has a husband for me, I just haven’t met him yet. Look, God supplies all my needs according to His riches in Jesus Christ, so if I really needed a husband, well by golly, I’d have one already. Till then, I’m not sweating it …. I just haven’t met him yet, or ever, but either way, good song, great God.
Being called “kid” or “kiddo”
When people guess my age, and they get it wrong, thinking I’m younger than I am. Ok, I’m vain, I know. But I can thank God for good aging genes, can’t I? There’s joy in being content with what God made you look like. Yeah, I want it to be better (skin care product freak, getting back to the Y!!), but I thank Him when I think of looking 5 or 6 years younger than I really am, and only having one grey hair.
Defying Gravity, or for that matter, a good Aria.
All Creatures of Our God & King.
The way Caravaggio painted Christ.
Laughing with T - well, really just when T laughs
Shivers when I worship
Tigers – and not the kind you find in your bathroom, but just the way they move and their soft orange slinkiness
Snowflakes – the big, crystalline kind
Loaded Potatoes – the girls, not the food
Fireplace fires
Finding money in the back pocket of my jeans.

There’s more y’all. Lots more. And maybe some of this is a stretch. I mean, Glee songs? But, the point is, there are just some things that bring me joy, and make me stop and thank God for them.

I know that He could have given us a world of grey nothingness. No beauty. No sunrises. No tigers. No snow days, No Caravaggio. No light, no bright, no music, nothing that was beautiful or awe inspiring, or even that just makes us smile. But our God is, among other things, indescribably beautiful. And He delights in making beauty and watching us enjoy it. He loves music, and joy, and smiles, and all good things. He has created a lot, and said it was all good. He gave us the ability to smell, to feel (touch), to taste, to hear, to see. I acknowledge that He’s got an amazing sense of humor, probably rocks out to the songs of the saints, and adores babies and puppies. How awesome is He?

And that makes me love Him – as Stephanie Smith sang, not for His wonders, but for who He is. I am crazy in love with a God that loves life that much. And you know what? I’m pretty sure He loves me too.

So I Did It!!!

2010-01-23T11:05:00.002-06:00

So I did it. I got up there and spoke last weekend. For those of you just tuning in, to my life not as much as my blog, I mean at Village Creek Bible Camp (shout out to EYE-OH-WAAHHH!!), and at the All Girls Retreat.

In retrospect, what was the big deal anyways? Well, really, I think my nervousness was more about what God was doing in my own life, with desiring vulnerability and authenticity from me than a fear to speak publicly. Add to that the fact that I’ve been, for years now but also more recently, hiding my fears and perceived weaknesses about who I am as a woman, behind sarcasm and “being cool” and I think that He is working in me to break these walls down before I even got up to speak. As He began revealing these areas of desired submission and surrender to me in the last few weeks I realized it was more growth with and through Him that I was nervous about, than a bunch of spazzy junior high girls who didn’t get ONE of my jokes or pop culture references. Man I felt old.

But, it went well, I suppose. I had the much valued support of K, R, T & M in the audience, and their great big smiles kept me going, as a visual reminder of how my Father was smiling down too. Most of all I just wanted to share the fact that He has a Love Story with all of us, with me, with you, with these girls.

As a basis for some of what I shared, I used the love story between God and Israel as exemplified by Gomer and Hosea. Oh Gomer, you crazy ho! Yet, how much are any of us more faithful than she was? And because God is good, I knew later on in the weekend that He was desiring this story to be told, when one of the other speakers for Sunday began speaking out of the same book. Granted she prefaced it with tons of comments like “Nobody EVER speaks or preaches out of Hosea”, and “I know you guys NEVER hear from the book of Hosea, so this must be new to you, but … “ It was all I could do to not laugh and think “Oh sweetheart, if you had been there, not even 12 hours ago, you would have heard the exact same verses, and been able to see God’s goodness, as He speaks the same message through two totally different people”.

But my quiet snickers and chuckles must have said plenty, because before I knew it, H was kicking my chair and keeping me in line. All I could think was “Good thing Matt’s not here”. Yeah, I may be asking God to work in my life, but getting off my sarcastic, too cool for school high horse is going to be a project for months to come.

Anyways, I digress. Getting back to Hosea and Gomer. In the few days since I’ve come home from camp, I’ve been asking the Lord to make my personal relationship with Him more real in my life than it’s ever been. My big fear is that I will use this relationship with Him as a source of inspiration to draw from in ministry, or He would be the One I go to when I need something to pull out of my hat or to get the things in life that I want. Instead, I want to fall more and more in love with Him daily, and love Him as I would my dearest and bestest friend, even more than a husband or lover. Today, as I was praying that, and asking Him to remind me to love Him more, this song came on, this song that I love, and that sometimes says it all. Man, God’s timing is perfect!

Of Minor Prophets & Their Prostitute Wives
by Pedro The Lion

All the time you were burning my letters
you were only acting the part
You think without me you'll get on much better
but you don’t even know your own heart

Come home, darling
Come home quickly
Come home, darling
All is forgiven, so come home quickly

I treated you as if you were a princess
you treated me like a cop
I gave you boundaries to save you from certain death
dangling from the end of the rope

Come home, darling
Come home quickly
Come home, darling
All is forgiven, so come home quickly

But your still playing for a love
you'll never find outside of these arms of mine
The whole town is one step behind you
with the hang man on call
They've got the judge and you're convicted without a plea
Darling, they will listen to me
Darling, they will listen to me
Darling, they will listen to me

The fact is, we serve an amazing, awesome God y’all. And His heart is solely focused on our continued, deep relationship with Him, as the foremost most important aspect of our lives. We’ve all walked away from His love, even as Christians, seeking other gods, other loves. But there is nothing He will not do in us to bring us back to Him, in the desert, where He can speak love and tenderness to us.

Looking back at the last few months, and of course hindsight is 20/20, I can clearly see how He’s been moving and pushing me further towards righteousness, growth and personal relationship with Him. Oh, not to mention, once again, that awful, icky V word – vulnerability, but I think that’s another post for another day.

I can see for sure that He really isn’t going to let me get away with not being the woman He’s calling me to be. I’m grateful for His faithfulness. And I trust Him. Implicitly. So, since this is Your desire, God, I guess all I can say is “Bring it on”. You say “Darling they will listen to me”, but I am saying “Father, I will listen to You.”

Bright Shiny Objects

2010-01-13T10:42:00.004-06:00

I think I'm a slave to bright, shiny objects. Not the real, glittery bird distracted by the sunlight off a piece of foil kind kind of things. But that's what I call the all the little things that are grabbing my attention from God at rapid gun-fire like pace these days. Those things that are sooooo effective at taking away my attention from the one true thing I'm trying to drill into my thick skull lately, and that is just how much He really loves me. Really, really loves me a lot. And how I'm called to act in light of that amazing, undeserved love.

There's not many, but man are there enough. Glee on dvd, sleep, a big crush, trying to learn my new job at work, the overwhelming desire to peruse the sales rack at the Gap. Oh, the Gap, with their trixy little "Take up to 70% Off" sign that lingers out front, beckoning with it's subtle font and understated lettering. Curse you Gap - you get too much of me to begin with. But no matter how minute and trite, or how meaningful any of these things are (Who am I kidding? With the exception of work and the crush, they're all a bit shallow.), they all seem to grab my focus and attention with a strength and powerful vice-like grip that only lots of prayer can break.

I'm speaking at an All-Girls retreat this weekend, and probably by the time this posts all my friends are going to be sick and tired of hearing that I'm nervous about it. A good friend reminded me last night that I have nothing to be nervous about, but little does he know. Oh little does he know. I plan on sharing my testimony there - the full waterworks of what God has done in my life and how out of His great, big, tremendous love He has redeemed me out of a past filled with abusive parents (crrraaaazy abusive parents), years spent chasing affection and attention from guys in most unnaceptable ways, and the belief system that true acceptance came from what I did or looked like or acted like when I thought people were watcing. It's a sad, messy story, and I'm about to share it with young women and staff members who I admire and respect, and who frankly, I don't really feel like being vulnerable and honest in front of. And I'm going to do this while trying to convey the beautiful message of how much our Lord really loves them, and calls them Daughter and Bride, even when it's a message it takes every ounce of my own energy to hear and comprehend. The neat thing is - the truth must be said, for if I didn't rocks would cry out His love.

Sadly, as I'm prepping for this weekend though, whether reading or writing, all I can I keep thinking is - if I get up there and tell this story, I better make sure I at least look good, so I better hit up the Gap this week and see if I can find something cute to wear, like those new skinny jeans or new boots, so they don't think I'm a total loser and not hear a word I'm saying because the sweater I'm wearing has pill balls under the arms or my recently outgrown jeans are too baggy and have grandma butt. Oh, and while I'm at it, how about another episode of Glee, to help me relax and laugh as I try and unwind after my hectic, stressful day at work. Yummmm, Caribou. Yeah, that.

URGH!! I'm telling y'all, bright shiny objects. These are not necessarily bad things, but these are the things that are keeping me from spending even more time with the Lord, and getting the full weight and gravity of what He is doing, and wants to speak to me. I love hearing His voice, that still small whisper. That unmistakable whisper that speaks to my heart with wisdom, comfort and power. If I could just throw all the bright shiny objects to the bottom of the sea, I'm sure then I could hear that voice much louder. But who am I kidding?

Because through it all, despite the ways that even today I have messed up, and been distracted, and walked away from the soft whisper of God's loving voice, I know in my heart, and in my head, and with the full confidence to share, that Christ's love for us is so vast, and deep that oceans of oceans of oceans couldn't hold it. The heavens themselves, full of stars and mysteries, cannot contain it. And my measly little distracted, girly mind cannot comprehend it, truly, ever. I can't throw away all my bright shiny objects. They'd just reappear like some scene out of Groundhogs Day. Some of them I would never want to throw away either - I like my job and that guy I have a crush on. But I can just ask God to turn my attention from those things that compete for my eye and focus it instead upon Himself, waiting there, patiently, silently, ready to whisper, ready to speak, ready to love.

If whispers looked like vapors, or fogggy air breathed on a cold winter's night, I'm pretty sure that God's whisper-like voice would sparkle like diamonds and snowflakes on silvery clouds of light. And for now, that is one bright, shiny object I want to sit and stare at all day long. Oooh, look .....

Back In Black... Or Something Like That.

2010-01-13T10:31:00.001-06:00

It’s been a long time, and I feel I must apologize. I’ve been “out of the loop” with writing here lately, and it’s nothing that I’ve done, or you’ve done, as much as just some logistical crap, which God is finally bringing me past. But I’m back, and I’m committed to turning over a new leaf with a few things in 2010, and blogging is definitely one of them.

If it helps to know, at all, I have a huge fear of vulnerability. And blogging here lately has been a source of vulnerability in my life. I’m pretty sure the world would be shocked to know that despite how headstrong, independent, and confident I may ever come across, deep down past all the facades, I’m surprisingly vulnerable and timid, almost to the point where it can be paralyzing. I keep telling y’all, I really am shy!

Vulnerability is defined as “capable of susceptible to being wounded or hurt, as by a weapon, moral attack, criticism or assault”. I’d go so far as replacing “capable of” with “fear of” – or at least that’s how I’d define it in my own life. In the case of blogging, I have been fearful of criticism, or even repercussions, but more pointedly, of just letting myself, my innermost thoughts and my feelings be known to someone who I decisively did not trust and believed was out to hurt me. Someone who I found out was reading my blog. The whole wide world can read this blog, since it’s out there in cyberspace for all to see, but the moment I found out this person was, I withdrew like a turtle on a hot Florida highway, into my shell, hiding from danger and real life.

But even the most timid of turtles must come out sometime, or risk being run over by a big semi-truck, carrying genetically modified citrus fruit to a state where none can grow so that by the time it gets there it’s lost all nutritional value…. Or wait, analogy gone too far!

What I’m trying to say is this – God is doing too much in my life for me to be timid about people who might want to hurt me. He is my great Protector, and though I must always exercise good judgment and caution, and discernment in the decisions I make, I cannot keep silent about who He is or what He’s doing, and more than anything lately, I really want to be blogging about what He’s doing in my life. So there, deal with it. Ugh!

That, and I really just miss writing. It’s cathartic. It’s therapeutic. It’s part of who I am, and how I express myself, and the woman I want to be. A writer. A really, really good writer. We’ll see. At least this is a good start. You're welcome.

I'm here, really

2009-11-04T17:24:00.002-06:00

I'm not ignoring my blog, really. And trust me, I have PLENTY to say. I'm just waiting out a little emotional hijacking, when I found out that some people that really don't need to know my innermost thoughts, desires and/or fears have been reading this. A lot.

So for those of you I love, know and trust -hang in there. I'm figuring out what to do. I miss writing. I'm a writer, for goodness sake... and I really do miss it!

Till then, or later, or whatever, thanks for reading, and trust me, much random rambling will be back soon.

Christmas In July - Well Not Quite

2009-09-28T17:44:00.005-05:00

Autumn is here. And from the looks of the ten-day weather report on Weather.com, it's here to stay at least through next Tuesday too. I can not express in words how thrilled I am about this, save for the fact that the sooner it gets here, the sooner it's gone. Although, even the little bit we will get in Minnesota this year has to be better that what seemed like a nonexistent fall last year. Who knows?

I just know that this weather ushers in my favorite time of year. A time of changing leaves, pumpkin patches and apple orchards, cashmere sweaters and thick, dark tights. Time for fires, both inside and out. And steamy, savory, fragrant comfort food. A time of putting on some classical music, wrapping up in a blanket, and listening to storms outside my windows. Time for FOOTBALL!!!! Besides Christmas, it's pretty much the best time of the year.

How did a California girl, through and through, come to love the changing seasons, but particularly changes that usher in coldness and the promise of an inevitable winter? How did someone who grew up in perpetually 80 degree weather even come to love the middle of winter as the "best time of the year"? Am I mad? Secretly born in another part of the country, and then transported far, far away to the Sunshine State. That would make so much sense, considering my biological family and our, ummm, shall we say, differences?

I have no excuses, no explanations. I only know I do love the falling snow, the white blanketed streets, the allure of cashmere (there we go again, maybe it's all about a fiber) scarves and mittens and sledding, and hot apple cider and carols. The joy I get from bundling up. Some people like to take it off. Me, I like to put it on. And on, and on. And even before all of this, the thrill of chilly autumn nights, watching kids trick or treating, blustery winds, Charlie Brown specials, there is so, so, so much I love about Autumn. And Christmas, did I mention Christmas?

Christmas, without a doubt, turns me into the most blathering, starry eyed, romantic wishabout. All traces of the sarcastic, cool, cynic disappear without a trace under the prospect of stockings hung by the chimney with care. It's quite the transformation really.

I was told last week, however, that a certain roommate, who's initials are now A for Anonymous, was thinking of moving out for the months of November and December, as a result of my adoration for all things Christmas. It only took two little ornaments that I brought home to bring on this kind of reaction, so I have to wonder what bringing home all the decorations that are at my desk at work will elicit? Quiet time maybe? If I start walking around the house humming carols to myself, will I get to take a nap? Will hanging lights in the windows, or putting out some fake elk with white lights on the lawn get me another weekend alone? This could be the beginning of some seriously manipulative behavior, all in the name of the overwhelming needs of an introvert. Truly I jest.

Seriously though - I am thrilled to the bone at the prospect of decorating the house I love, and live in coincidentally, for Christmas this year. Pottery Barn catalogs, bring it on! It's been a good few years since I've had a place that I've wanted to decorate, much less could. Two years ago I was in the Squirrel Palace, and though I had a few guests over around Christmas time (le sigh, the UCE and the BFF), I didn't really go all out, you know, with a tree or anything, for lack of space, and fear of rodents flying out of it. Last year I had the colossal joy of sharing Christmas time at home (i.e. Minneapolis) with the family that has only enriched my great love for the holiday, my adopted MN family, the J's.

Though I have always loved Christmas, being able to share the beautiful holiday with them, both enjoying old and creating new traditions, celebrating the birth of our Lord and Savior, and just soaking up massive amounts of family time, has greatly grown my adoration for Christmas. Just thinking of it makes me feel like I'm in a movie, a Christmas movie, where we sing around a fire in matching sweaters. Though if it ever got to that point, I'd probably escape to the kitchen for some fresh air and another glass of homemade Irish Cream. For the first time in my life, I feel like I have the storybook family time that Christmas is partly about, and it blesses my reindeer socks off. For many years, having a family of my own, that loves and knows Christ, and enjoys Christmas together-time, as much as I do has been top of my Santa wish list. And though we're no relation, they are to me all I want in a family - loving, godly, accepting, funny, warm, snuggly, and in love with Christmas too. Maybe Christmas miracles really do come true.

This year, as I brainstorm and shop and prepare to decorate my own home in celebration of this holiday (don't worry roomies, not for months!), I can only imagine that my joy will be enhanced, both by sharing Christmas with my awesome, adopted family up the street, and by being able to come home at the end of the day, to my own place, lit up with twinkly lights, smelling of apple cider and pine trees, and then share all the joy in my heart with my roommates as well. They may find my Sally Sunshine Christmas loving attitude slightly in contrast with their own cynical little ways, but I know, in my heart of hearts, that some fresh baked gingerbread cookies, a nice fire, and maybe a little Bing Crosby/David Bowie in the background can win them over to the dark side. I just can't wait to find out!

Autumn and Christmas. Whether we like it or not, they are on their way. I am the last person to protest their imminent arrival, so friends, if you're not quite there yet, thanks for bearing with me. For now, we'll agree to disagree. After all, October 1st is only a few days away.

I'm Bored. Come Save Me John Krasinski!

2009-09-24T17:41:00.006-05:00

I'm so bored right now, that I feel like I'm literally crawling out of my skin. I have some dessert in the car, and I know I should go home, instead of being here, typing, and letting it get gooey, but I'm so afraid that if I go home, I'll only be bored there too.

I could go home and clean and do laundry. I probably should.

I could go home and finish the series I'm watching - Fringe - which pretty much rocks in a Lost meets X-Files meets House kind of way. I'm really enjoying this first season, and find myself turning into an Easter Egg hunting kind of geek, the same way I did when Lost had my attention. I should probably go home and try to get through an episode or two.

I could go shopping and grab a few things we need for the house, like soap for the bathroom or lightbulbs. But then the dessert would still melt in the car and I'd run the risk of ending up at Von Maur checking out the tres adorable shirts in their juniors section, which I'm afraid might only lead to a case of "I just have to have this to wear (insert occasion here)".

Instead I'm here at the library wondering why the clearly vanilla looking dude in the blue polo shirt, who frankly is so clearly vanilla looking that you'd think he was FBI (or maybe that's too much Fringe getting to me) is smiling at the people at the computers, myself included. Creeeepy. Or wondering why the guy sitting across from me is laughing to himself every once in a while. Or marveling at my own amazing typing skillz as I rock the keyboard better than anyone else in here.

I don't know what I want to do. I'm really bored.

In the meantime, here is a pic that brought a great big smile to my face earlier. I think it's time for me to head home - but in all honesty, not before I hit the Gap's 4 day 40% off sale, so I can find a cute white bohemian looking blouse to go with the my favorite old jeans that I can get back into.

I pulled them out of a box in the basement this morning, glorying in all their old fadedness, the paint splotches that make them look kind of punk-rock-glam and the fact that I can get back into them!! I have been jonesin' for a pair of distressed looking, torn up, "boyfriend" jeans for the better part of late summer/early fall. The best part of these, is that they totally fit the bill, minus any price tag. I can't wait to go home and rip 'em up a bit, so they're in perfect fierce BA shape to wear out tomorrow night. With jeans to rip up, dessert in the car, and the thought of some Fringe to watch tonight, maybe I won't be so bored after all.

My Overwhelming Need for "LEAVE ME ALONE!!"

2009-09-21T17:48:00.002-05:00

So maybe you’ve all noticed, and maybe you haven’t, but I haven’t been blogging as much these last two weeks. In part it’s due to a changed situation at work, and in part it’s due to the fact that I’m stretched beyond thin for brain power and have not been able to construct a complete sentence other then “Me. Needy. Sleep.”

Yep, so I finally got the promotion I had applied for at work. And I’m so tempted to say something along the lines of “And it’s about freaking time!” For the last two years, since leaving the wild, wonderful world of being a pastry chef, I’ve been a receptionist. I answer phones. I listen to old people give me their life story, just so three minutes later I can tell them they have the wrong number. I get yelled at by rude, foreign men who may or may not have bought our equipment illegally off the internet. I’ve discovered the sad fact that it’s actually harder to look busy than it is to be busy. And all day long, all I do is talk. Talk. TALK. ALL. THE. TIME.

So usually, by the time my day is done, the absolute last thing I want to do in the whole wide world is…..talk. I’m glad to listen, just don’t ask for me to do more than smile and nod. I am an introvert by nature anyways, recharging myself more through alone, quiet time, than social interaction. And while I love social interaction, too much of it no good for Trinettey. Such as this past summer, where for literally 5 weeks straight I’ve had something going on in a major way, every day. So for the first time in about forever, this weekend afforded me the chance to just be home, around the house with nothing to do. And going into Saturday, I knew I was going to relish every second of it, but most especially those precious hours spent napping.

If only that would’ve happened. Let’s just say that the combination of my own inability to settle down and relax, the crazy two-day house party thrown by our Asian neighbors to the south (complete with 24 kids running across our lawn screaming and what I’m pretty sure was an animal sacrifice), the fact that I share the house with three other highly outgoing people and my own need for a perfectly quiet atmosphere when I sleep, kept me from getting any rest and relaxation this weekend. And by Sunday afternoon I was feeling it.

Like a child who is unable to communicate or express exactly what is wrong with them, all I could manage to spit out was “I’M CRABBY!!”, as I buried my head into a sofa cushion and screamed, coming up half laughing half crying. At that moment I knew I was hitting the wall, in a big way, and I had no way to fix the problem. With all these factors weighing in, I didn’t even want to try and lay down for a nap, knowing I’d end up more frustrated for trying. Finally, I grabbed E, and decided to make a Target run. When all else fails, Target never lets me down.

As I was processing on the way back from Target (I’m telling you, something in their air clears my head and allows me to think more rationally), I realized that as an introvert, I really do need alone time, solitude and quiet, to recharge and re-energize. And in a long, long time I haven’t had any of that. Even when I’m home, I’m never alone, nor is it ever really quiet. And I love that about where I live and my roommates, etc. I really do. But I had not been able to see, until now, the toll that lack of solitude and quiet was really taking on me, or that really, I have a legitimate need here that is not being met.

And sadly, right now, I don’t have a great solution for this problem either. I’m toying around with the idea of taking the house hostage this weekend, since all three of my roommates will be gone, closing up all the windows, soundproofing all the doors, turning off the lights, and pretending I’m not home, just so I can sit down in the basement, and watch some TV, or fall asleep on the sofa. The simplest of things can become so complex.

I guess we’ll see what happens.

Anyway, back to the promotion. Yep, I got it . And amongst other things God is teaching me through this blessing, is to trust in His timing and His way of doing things. Through all the details that have been inherent to this promotion and the story of how I got it and how it's working out, he's also taught me to lose gracefully, to live in gratitude and contentment, and to be glad in all things that He does, even the things that are starkly different than what I have expected or would've done myself. It's a lot to take in

When I will actually get to take my place as our new International Account Services Representative for Germany and Japan, I don’t know. We need to hire someone to take my place (pshaw, like that can be done!) before I can move into my new role. After two years of what can be called Not Rocket Science, I am anxious and excited to be challenged and new and formidable ways. I do know that with great power comes great responsibility, i.e., no more blogging, browsing funny websites or taking naps. I have to work for my living now. The good ol’ days are over. *Sigh* But in the meantime, till that actually happens, I will not forget that God is great, beer is good and people are crazy. Or something like that.

Thanks for tuning in…. it’s about time for me to go tune out. Tootles.

Back By Popular Demand

2009-09-21T17:47:00.002-05:00

Here are a few more hilarious websites to amuse yourself with during the day. You know, cuz I never do that.

http://www.sverigessamstasida.se/ryskalekparker.php This is basically the world’s scariest and creepiest and saddest children’s playgrounds. Fun – I totally would take my kids there if I had any! And then listen to them quietly sobbing in their beds at night.

http://www.mentalfloss.com/blogs/archives/16784 Playgrounds From Hell. Or the former Soviet Union.

http://www.engrish.com/ If you’ve spent any time in Asia, you’ll recognize the awesome signs and half-baked signs.

http://www.theonion.com/content/index One of my favorites, whether in print or online. Of course it claims to be America’s Finest News Source, but I believe that’s only true since the Weekly World News went under.

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1208913/The-poodles-transformed-pandas-horses-snails-creative-grooming-dog-shows.html One of the best examples that people who breed dogs have too much time on their hands (sorry Sue, I didn’t mean you!)

http://crappytaxidermy.com/ In case the poodles weren’t enough

Like Mental Floss http://www.neatorama.com/ is just kind of random fun stuff.

For anyone who hasn’t seen the hilarious movie Fanboys yet, you may not appreciate this site. But for those down with driving cross country just for a chance to break into Skywalker Ranch, enjoy this article http://www.darkroastedblend.com/2009/07/star-wars-for-your-mind-heart-and-soul.html

Last week I posted about the Building A Better Man website, which I was only able to halfheartedly endorse…. This one’s much better trust me. http://artofmanliness.com/

And because I’m not just one of the guys, or even close, I’m going to admit that one of my all-time favorite girly sites is Southern Beauty, which is written and edited by a bunch of Southern Women. Now trust me, nobody does Beauty like Southern women. Naturally strong and resilient by nature, their fortitude often applies itself in shellacked hair, shellacked nails, head to toe matching accessories, flawless makeup even in 102 degree weather with 70% humidity…. there is something so appealingly OCD about the studied beauty of Southern women. There is part of me that embraces my boho, neo-hippie roots, embraces the way I rebelled as a teenager into the perfect, argyle wearing Young Republican, but there is very little in me that is truly a Southern belle inside. I can only read, and learn and wish. http://www.sobeautymag.com/

Well, that’s it for my more current suggestions. Over and out good buddy.

Community Education

2009-09-09T12:18:00.000-05:00

If I were to ever write a book about the concept of Community, I would not need to actually write anything, since I can’t begin to tell you how many half baked blog posts I have about this subject. I got more rhymes than the Bible’s got Psalms…. Sorry, just a little House of Pain there for y’all. I’m warning you, this post is gonna be mad ADD.

Ok, though, getting back to community, and what it means, how it affects our lives, why we need it, etc. I could just go through those old posts, make some sense of them, and boom, a novel. The next great American tome. Minus some focus and coherence and a plotline you can follow. There’s really that much material.

But the thoughts in my head today about relationships and community and my three day weekend and even just life are so much more scattered and random than I can even believe. I am sooo ADD today. Have I said that? And even if I were to try and flesh out my thoughts like I should, I would just end up with more fodder for the make-believe book and non-postable posts. Therefore, I’m just doing bullet points and deal with it.

1. The intimacy of two becoming one is starting to scare me. Is it really just about the day to day? If so, I’m screwed! I don’t want to give away all the little things to someone that’s not my husband. Rob Bell, in his book SexGod, which thankfully hasn’t been about sex that much, says that the whole process of two becoming one isn’t so much about gettin’ it on, as about just doing life together on a small things basis. You know… what kind of sauce do you like for your Chicken McNuggets? Night owl or Early Bird? That kind of stuff. I really hope this isn’t true and that Rob Bell is off his flippin’ rocker.

2. Community is such an amazing thing – being able to kiss my nephew on the head and send him off with a banana bread muffin on his first day of 1st Grade, stoop parties and porch parties and just hanging with the girls, having someone help me fix a tire, picnics in the park, you name it. I’m loving being part of a community and a neighborhood.

3. I can’t do car stuff. I break down and become a totally helpless girl. I panic. I shut down. I turn into the most helpless female ever. Even just driving somewhere I’ve never been to before, at night, alone, is enough to put me into helpless female mode. Like last weekend when I had to drive down to camp on my own, at night, alone, and I was so panicky about it. I did pretty good, and was really proud of myself for it, till I got to LaCrosse, and took the wrong turn and got about 50 miles towards Madison before I realized I was going the wrong way. I had to call R for Roommate and whine and ask for help and endure “Really? You’re lost going to camp?? Really???” before I was able to turn around and head back down the right highway. Then I got as far as Lansing, missed my turn to camp, and was almost to Harpers Ferry before I turned around, crying. As I was wiping the tears away, fearful of hitting a deer or going back to Madison or having to pull off and sleep in my car, I remember wishing for Jesus to speak to me audibly in a voice identical to Josh Turner’s and tell me where to go. Because really, that’s what Jesus sounds like to me – Josh Turner. I hate to admit it, but when it comes to car stuff, directions, flat tires, oil changes, broken mirrors, I really need a man to step in. True story.

4. Diablo Cody is so pretty. Brunettes pretty much rock the beauty world, but she’s just so cool and smart and funny besides. Her and Kat Von D are awesome. I want to be pretty like them. Cool and pretty and smart and inked.

5. Great Is Thy Faithfulness is an awesome hymn. Love it so much! I think it might be my favorite right now. That should change by oh, I don’t know, 6:05. ADD remember?

6. How on earth am I going to get everything done this week? Block Party stuff. Hawaiian Luau Team Building Event stuff? Birthday shopping for Sierra. Painting?? Sleep? Finishing all my library books to get them back fee free?? Sleeping?? Pshaw!

7. I need to apologize to my roommate for posting on facebook that I was going to throw a shoe at his head. I really, really, really needed a nap yesterday and wasn’t getting it because he kept talking to me. I need to learn that it’s ok to communicate my needs to other people (like “Can you please shut your stinking pie hole so I can get a nap here?”) instead of passive-aggressively posting my frustrations in open air. This is a big lesson for me. That and that lack of sleep, sleep deprivation, not sleeping and needing a good night’s sleep all make me crabby. Really really crabby.

8. I want my hair to be long again. I want to be a a bijillion & two sizes smaller, really cute with a button nose and blonde hair. I want the guy I have a crush on to not want that for me and to say I'm crazy because he likes me just as I am - wacky, chubby, brunette with awkward middle-stage hair. I want him to totally see past my faults and embrace my quirkiness. Hell, I embrace all of his, though he’s not really quirky so much as wonderfully amusing and wholesome and normal and nice and totally the mayor of Laugh City.

9. The bathroom upstairs looks like the inside of a chimp cage. Really, the whole house looks like it was vandalized by an errant gang of chimps. I really need to get motivated to clean. Or find a nice Mexican mama-type maid I can pay to do it. Like the maid Nancy Botwin had in the first two seasons of Weeds, minus the morality lectures.

10. My socks are blessed right off my pretty painted feet today thinking of the amazingly fantastical time I had Sunday night with my fellow Dirty Couchers. There about three of you right now who know what I’m talking about, and to you three, I throw off my hat (feathers and all) and applaud your mighty womanly ways. Normally I eschew all traditional female gatherings - too much estrogen on the dance floor. But it’s been a long time since God brought me female friends who didn’t want to sit around and knit or scrapbook and sing As The Deer and then trade recipes for banana bread or watch Christy: The miniseries. I am thankful and I love you all, for being who you are, smart, fierce, wickedly funny, hip and cool and intelligent and cultured and wild, wacky and wonderful. You guys are restoring my faith in the XX Chromosones!

Well, I’m pretty sure that’s about it for me today. I could so use a nap right now, and some more deep fried Cajun spiced pickle, but alas tonight’s another night I have stuff going on. I’m learning to treasure days with nothing planned. I’m sure that I slack enough for four people here during the day, but quiet evenings home alone, with wine and a book and an early bedtime are a luxury I dearly treasure. And I think to myself....what a wondah-ful woild. Till later, thanks for reading, and keep on truckin’!

Mad Props

2009-09-03T13:40:00.003-05:00

Ok, as we all know by now, sometimes during the day, I am less than challenged or stimulated with a constant flow of responsibility. I’m ok with this. Because my lenient schedule allows me ample time to peruse some of the more interesting and humorous websites out there. Here, is my top ten lists of things that amuse me daily, in no particular order:

1. Awkward Family Photos – I can only hope to find a man willing to recreate our love story in awkward knee shelf and back hug photos. The irony that would ensue!

2. LOL Cats – Cheesy, yez, I knoe. But something bout dat weird LOLCat languages haz me hookd. Thar’s even LOLCat languages generador dat I often type mah emails into, 4 amuzement an 2 confuse mah coworkerz. Sadzly, spell check katchez me evry tiem.

3. Don’t Even Reply– I almost peed my pants yesterday reading some of these responses, such as Insulting Parrot and Horse Farm and Special Wife.

4. People of Wal-mart – Because beauty is all in the eye of the beholder.

5. F*** Yeah, Neil Patrick Harris – NPH, wherever he can be found. Awwwesoooome!

6. Stuff Hipsters Hate - Like... “Sobriety: Hipsters know their ABCs: Adderall, Booze, Coke” or “Other Subcultures” or “Washing Their Hair”.

7. Stuff White People Like – Like ….. “Camping”, “Vespa Scooters” and “Girls With Bangs”.

8. Celebrity Baby Blog – yes, I do stalk celebrity babies, I know, I know. But with such cuties as the Stefani-Rossdale boys, Suri Cruise (she’s such a little doll!), and of course the Jolie-Pitt clan out there, I can’t resist.

9. Furry Puppet Studio – maybe it’s my obsession with Jason Segel and the fact that he’s making a puppet movie, or maybe it’s just how fantastical and tactile and detailed they all look. Nah, it’s Jason Segel.

10. New Math – think of it this way …. Store Manager = Employee + Neck Tie. Or, Dowry = Marriage + Door Prize.

Potential Runners did include Hot Chicks with Douchebags, but sadly, it’s blocked most of the time. There are rip-off websites that provide me hours of trainwreck stupification. You don’t want to, but you just have to look. Oooh, that gelled hair, I think I just threw up in my mouth. Mom, where’s my protein ma??

You know what really bothers me about these people though? The proliferation of HC’s & D-Bag’s suing the makers of the book “Hot Chicks With Douchebags” for slander, libel and personal trauma. You’re a douchebag! You wear Ed Hardy. You’re the bimbo that overtans, overbleaches and overhangsoutofherclothes that’s plastered to his arm. Get over it. Don’t sue the makers of a book for calling you out on your ridiculous behavior and meticulously sculpted facial hair or Tara Reid worthy implants and embarrassing you in front of all your friends. Just get some class, a real job and put your camera away. Urgh!

There was also If I Had To Choose, which basically gives you two choices and you have to choose which you’d eliminate from the waking world. Such as “Arrested Development or Seinfeld?”, “We Will Rock You or We Are The Champions?” and “Lloyd Christmas or Ace Ventura?”. Nice.

There’s always the blog “Just A Guy Thing: Building A Better Man”, which I might recommend to my male audience, though sometimes I look through it just to see if they’re getting it right. They aren’t. There’s Church Sign Maker, which let’s you put whatever text you want into a church’s marquis sign. But sometimes their server freezes up. And then there’s also (crazy random admission) Rock N Roll Bride, which is basically goth wedding pictures, but classier. It’s where I got my idea to have my entire bridal party wear Converse at my (prolly never gonna happen) wedding.

I also read other people’s blogs, write in my own blog (such as right now, a few minutes before I get to go up to the mall for lunch), and look for cool, new blogs. Productivity has never been so high!

It's A Girl Thing

2009-09-02T15:07:00.004-05:00

I’m feeling a little psychzophrenic today. I’m simultaneously surfing the pics from Ted Kennedy’s funeral and memorial service on Time.com, admiring the class and sophistication of a bunch of New England Republicans all dressed in black, while also surfing one of my new favorite websites “People of Wal-Mart” which pretty much has every mullet sporting, too tight jeans wearing white trash fatty shopping at their favorite discount superstore. They’re both, in their own way, pretty sweet.

But granted, not as sweet as the new argyle cardigan I picked up from the Limited yesterday. It’s so cute! It’s the perfect fall colors – grey, and this new muted greenish yellow that I’m in love with and taupe. Very preppy Harvard girli-sh, which is a good look for me to experiment with for fall, I think. I’m really excited for fall, actually, as it’s my favorite season for dressing. I love being cuddled up in warm tights, boots, cardigan sweaters, scarves and hats. It’s not quite winter, where practicality starts to cramp my style - it’s just the perfect time of year.

I just love the whole Ali McGraw/Love Story look for fall. Ali McGraw at that age would play my sister in the story of my life. I pretty much love that movie too, and watch it every fall, weeping on my sofa and going around for weeks, in scarves and sweaters, saying “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.” But I digress – back to cute argyle sweater and fall looks. I was thinking of pairing it maybe with a grey tunicy top, some dark jeans and motorcycle boots to toughen the whole thing up?

Speaking of cardigans – I have been wondering why, lately, my phone has stopped ringing, and there’s no more late night phone calls from John Krasinski on the other end. You know, John Krasinski, who plays Jim Halpert on the Office? John Krasinski – who next to Jason Segel is in my top three Celebrity Crushes*? Anyways, turns out that while I was away camping, and at camp, and camping some more, and at camp again, he was out getting engaged to some actress named Emily Blunt. I always knew his heart was a’roaming, but in the busy-ness of life I thought that my cardigan sweater obsession had him in lockdown. After all it was he who, when asked what he looks for in a woman, replied with “It’s not about celebrity or not. It’s all about, do you have that ‘girl in a cardigan’ in you. You gotta have that.” Clearly Emily Blunt delivers the cardigan goods.

Well, Jason, I guess it’s just you and me now. Call me. Maybe we can throw on some cardigans and go walk in a park where the leaves are turning colors. Happy Autumn to us!

*I’m starting to see that I definitely have a type.