Pretty Things

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!

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

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!!!

Style = Perception + Confidence + Risk.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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?

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

.... 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.

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