Day 9: Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.
My childhood best friend, Natalie. The drifting was not natural, but sort of forced by my mother which is why I’ve always felt weird about how things ended.
Looking back it was a pretty superficial relationship, but isn’t that what being a kid is about. Natalie always talked about wanting to be popular kid. A concept that was lost on me…I just wanted to have fun. But whatever, she was my friend. She made me laugh. She had an Atari. She introduced me to NKOTB. She was athletic and coordinated...two talents which I did not nor ever will posses.
My mother blamed Natalie for my bad behavior. She couldn’t see the behavior was due to things going on inside the house and inside myself. Natalie was the one friend I had, and when her family moved to another neighborhood our fate was sealed after I was forbidden to use the phone.
It’s a relationship that would have naturally drifted, but instead of going from friend to friend I had a long period of no friendships. And for better or worse that had a huge impact of the person I was to become. My mother did what she thought was best, but for a long time I was a terribly sad and lonely little girl. And I guess this may seem strange, but when I think back to that little girl I just feel really sorry for her…even though I recognize it’s a part of what made me…I hate that she missed out on the joys of being a kid.
12.19.2010
12.12.2010
[8] name the devil...
Day 8: Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like poop.
Jane Garitowitz.
Kidding. If you are Jane Garitowitz, sorry for using your name. But I fully believe we make our own lives hell. Sure there are some nasty people that say nasty things, but it’s how we chose to deal with the nasty.
Story time. I remember sitting in high school math class my freshman year and this girl, I’ll call her Sue Silver, started whispering my name and saying nasty things. Up until that day I had never met Sue Silver. I knew her name, but had never spoken to her or of her…ever. And suddenly she’s saying nasty things. So I speak up dumbfounded and ask who she is, trying to point out we don’t know each other.
I couldn’t have even told you who her friends were. (Let’s face it, my world revolved around church. I was not allowed to go to the houses of kids parents my mother didn’t know, so that limited my friends to church.) The nasty continues. Again, dumfounded I tell her I think she has the wrong Heather.
The nasty escalates, and at this point I’m at a complete loss-my patience is thin-and I’ve about had enough. I’m ready to get up and bust some chops…in the middle of math class, so instead I start slamming my fist of my desk. And that is when the teacher, after hearing the nasty continue for the last 30-minutes finally steps in and says enough…right as the bell rings.
We leave. There is no rumble in the hallway. The next day in class nothing. Not a damn thing. I can only assume that she figured out she had the wrong Heather, and she was just too embarrassed to admit her mistake. A couple years later I found myself in the same class as Sue Silver once again. About half way into the semester she asked if I was still mad at her. And still as dumbfounded as the first day she uttered my name I shook my head no and shrugged my shoulders.
To this day I have no clue what that was about. But that is my memory of Sue Silver. It was one day of hell. One day of being treated like poop. And I have never forgotten. Never stopped wondering why.
Sure, other "people" have made my life hell. That was until I realized it's my own actions and reactions that created that hell. It's my choice to take the road that leads to that hell or about-face. Sometimes the about-face is really easy. Sometimes I apparently need to revisit that hell to remind myself it's not a fun place.
There is a song by Company of Thieves called "Oscar Wilde" that sums it up well...'we are all our own devil, and we make this world our hell'.
Jane Garitowitz.
Kidding. If you are Jane Garitowitz, sorry for using your name. But I fully believe we make our own lives hell. Sure there are some nasty people that say nasty things, but it’s how we chose to deal with the nasty.
Story time. I remember sitting in high school math class my freshman year and this girl, I’ll call her Sue Silver, started whispering my name and saying nasty things. Up until that day I had never met Sue Silver. I knew her name, but had never spoken to her or of her…ever. And suddenly she’s saying nasty things. So I speak up dumbfounded and ask who she is, trying to point out we don’t know each other.
I couldn’t have even told you who her friends were. (Let’s face it, my world revolved around church. I was not allowed to go to the houses of kids parents my mother didn’t know, so that limited my friends to church.) The nasty continues. Again, dumfounded I tell her I think she has the wrong Heather.
The nasty escalates, and at this point I’m at a complete loss-my patience is thin-and I’ve about had enough. I’m ready to get up and bust some chops…in the middle of math class, so instead I start slamming my fist of my desk. And that is when the teacher, after hearing the nasty continue for the last 30-minutes finally steps in and says enough…right as the bell rings.
We leave. There is no rumble in the hallway. The next day in class nothing. Not a damn thing. I can only assume that she figured out she had the wrong Heather, and she was just too embarrassed to admit her mistake. A couple years later I found myself in the same class as Sue Silver once again. About half way into the semester she asked if I was still mad at her. And still as dumbfounded as the first day she uttered my name I shook my head no and shrugged my shoulders.
To this day I have no clue what that was about. But that is my memory of Sue Silver. It was one day of hell. One day of being treated like poop. And I have never forgotten. Never stopped wondering why.
Sure, other "people" have made my life hell. That was until I realized it's my own actions and reactions that created that hell. It's my choice to take the road that leads to that hell or about-face. Sometimes the about-face is really easy. Sometimes I apparently need to revisit that hell to remind myself it's not a fun place.
There is a song by Company of Thieves called "Oscar Wilde" that sums it up well...'we are all our own devil, and we make this world our hell'.
12.02.2010
[7] living for...
Day 7: Someone who has made your life worth living for.
Ew. So basically if said person did not exist, life would not be worth living. That’s just ridonkulous!
There was a point a few years ago when I just wanted to {warning computer-nerd speak} Ctrl-Alt-Delete my life. Just to go somewhere no one knew of me and start over. Not that I would have done that, but I certainly reached the point of understanding why some people take that path. But it was my husband that kept me grounded, and loved me through that difficult time.
That’s not to say I couldn’t live without him, but I’m not certain where I would be without his love.
Ew. So basically if said person did not exist, life would not be worth living. That’s just ridonkulous!
There was a point a few years ago when I just wanted to {warning computer-nerd speak} Ctrl-Alt-Delete my life. Just to go somewhere no one knew of me and start over. Not that I would have done that, but I certainly reached the point of understanding why some people take that path. But it was my husband that kept me grounded, and loved me through that difficult time.
That’s not to say I couldn’t live without him, but I’m not certain where I would be without his love.
12.01.2010
[6] refusing to tempt fate...
Day 6: Something you hope you never have to do.
Let’s not tempt fate.
Moving on…how about some photos from our last vacation instead!
Let’s not tempt fate.
Moving on…how about some photos from our last vacation instead!
The trip in which I saw my first cactus.
The trip in which we watched 500 hot air balloons take off within 120 minutes.
The trip in which took our breath away.
The trip in which we drove The Mother Road.
The trip in which we appreciated the old and run down.
The trip in which left us refreshed.
And fully ready to welcome our 7th anniversary.
Thank God for this trip.
And my wonderful husband & his mad driving skills.
These crazy road trips bring us so much joy.
It made us think...
maybe one day when things settle and we retire,
we'll be that crazy old couple
that travels the country in their RV.
God only knows...and he's not telling!
11.30.2010
[5] life hopes...
Day 5: Something you hope to do in your life.
I don't really have an exact answer. I honestly just hope to live life to its fullest. Every thing. Every experience. Being present in every moment. Including the not-so-pleasant stuff. So I guess that is my life hope, to just be present. To let things sink in, to give myself the freedom to feel and process situations before reacting.
I don't really have an exact answer. I honestly just hope to live life to its fullest. Every thing. Every experience. Being present in every moment. Including the not-so-pleasant stuff. So I guess that is my life hope, to just be present. To let things sink in, to give myself the freedom to feel and process situations before reacting.
11.26.2010
[4] forgiving the man...
Day 4: Something you have to forgive someone for.
Interesting. I guess ten years ago this would turn into one of those he/she [insert terrible thing] to me, but now I see those “terrible things” as opportunities. Instead of pointing fingers I start by asking myself why I feel so passionately about the “terrible thing”. And always…no really – Every. Single. Time. My passion has nothing to do with the person or the thing, but everything to do with something inside of my own self.
So the real questions is, how can you not forgive someone for giving you the opportunity to grow…
That’s not to say that I don’t have those moments that I’m filled with so much anger and frustration I could easily breathe fire. It’s those moments that it’s especially hard to get to that place where you can be objective. And sometimes it’s best to remove yourself from the situation as far as possible in order to reach that place. And yes, some relationships have fallen apart because of that self exile. But I know in my heart if that relationship is meant to exist, it will. And if not, it won’t.
Some soul mates lift us up. Others push us into the fire. It's in the balance of the two that we find grace.
Interesting. I guess ten years ago this would turn into one of those he/she [insert terrible thing] to me, but now I see those “terrible things” as opportunities. Instead of pointing fingers I start by asking myself why I feel so passionately about the “terrible thing”. And always…no really – Every. Single. Time. My passion has nothing to do with the person or the thing, but everything to do with something inside of my own self.
So the real questions is, how can you not forgive someone for giving you the opportunity to grow…
That’s not to say that I don’t have those moments that I’m filled with so much anger and frustration I could easily breathe fire. It’s those moments that it’s especially hard to get to that place where you can be objective. And sometimes it’s best to remove yourself from the situation as far as possible in order to reach that place. And yes, some relationships have fallen apart because of that self exile. But I know in my heart if that relationship is meant to exist, it will. And if not, it won’t.
Some soul mates lift us up. Others push us into the fire. It's in the balance of the two that we find grace.
11.24.2010
[3] self forgiven...
Day 3: Something you have to forgive yourself for.
Interesting. I got nothing. Things happen that lead you places and without them I wouldn’t be where I am today. I mean I can look back and say I wish I had done some things differently. Trust me I had my angry years in high school. I handled what was going on at home by taking it out on the world. Sorry world. But it was a necessary evil.
Interesting. I got nothing. Things happen that lead you places and without them I wouldn’t be where I am today. I mean I can look back and say I wish I had done some things differently. Trust me I had my angry years in high school. I handled what was going on at home by taking it out on the world. Sorry world. But it was a necessary evil.
11.22.2010
[2] self loving...
Day 2: Something you love about yourself.
Well, first off I’ll say it’s much easier to hate on yourself. I can think of about 20-self hates off the top of my head, but something I love…
I guess I love my ability to be creative, but I’m always doubting my own creativity. It’s a very rare occasion that I can look at something and think it’s awesome just as it is. I feel like in everything and every way possible I’m constantly challenging myself to change and grow and improve. That isn’t to say that I don’t live in the moment and appreciate what I have…I just know there is, and always will be room for improvement until the day I die.
Superficially, I like my skin tone. Okay, I love it. I said it. I’m pale milky white and I love it that way. Which for a white chick…in the age of spray tans, fake-n-bakes and self-tanning products that span the globe, seems to be pretty rare. Of course, twice a year I equally hate it when I forget sunscreen and turn into a tomato and get left with a nasty farmer’s tan. My last burn I was wearing a scoop neck with a sort of keyhole cutout…I’m still trying to exfoliate the resulting sudo-tan before holiday party season!
Well, first off I’ll say it’s much easier to hate on yourself. I can think of about 20-self hates off the top of my head, but something I love…
I guess I love my ability to be creative, but I’m always doubting my own creativity. It’s a very rare occasion that I can look at something and think it’s awesome just as it is. I feel like in everything and every way possible I’m constantly challenging myself to change and grow and improve. That isn’t to say that I don’t live in the moment and appreciate what I have…I just know there is, and always will be room for improvement until the day I die.
Superficially, I like my skin tone. Okay, I love it. I said it. I’m pale milky white and I love it that way. Which for a white chick…in the age of spray tans, fake-n-bakes and self-tanning products that span the globe, seems to be pretty rare. Of course, twice a year I equally hate it when I forget sunscreen and turn into a tomato and get left with a nasty farmer’s tan. My last burn I was wearing a scoop neck with a sort of keyhole cutout…I’m still trying to exfoliate the resulting sudo-tan before holiday party season!
11.20.2010
[1] refreshing beginning...
I’ve been in hiding lately and I’m not sure why. For a while I felt overexposed. Which seems ridiculous for someone that does this sort of thing, but something that brings me joy started creating fear. What if someone found me, and what if someone took the things I wrote the wrong way, and what if they spread that around, and what if others took that someone’s opinion as fact. Irrational? Yes, absolutely. In truth, that has already happened and happens every day and it’s silly to think writing or not writing would hinder the fire. So I say, flame freaking on dude!
The fact is I turned thirty this month. And I guess some people have a difficult time. I can’t say I am one, but I have had odd thoughts whisk in and out of my head. So while I go through this 30 mini-funk, I thought it would be a good time to start the “30 Days of Truth” prompts I’ve been seeing around. I’ll be honest some of the prompts are pretty stupid, but it will be an interesting way to force me out of hiding. And then in 2-3 years I can look back and think who was that person.
Day 1: Something you hate about yourself.
The superficial answer would be my feet. I grew up with my mother telling me I had my dad’s feet. And that translated into a girl having boy feet. And boy feet are yucky. So I wear open-toed nothing. I am probably the only chick in the state that doesn’t own a pair of flip-flops. And no matter how many times my girlfriends tell me I don’t have man-feet I’ll never believe them.
But my true answer would be I hate that I’m not very complimentary. I get complemented on my looks, my eyes, my outfits, my shoes…but I just don’t think to compliment others. The only reasoning that I can come up with is that I don’t value superficial things. I mean it’s nice to be told you are beautiful, but that’s just make-up and hair dye. My eyes are genetics. My outfit is money. My shoes are to hide my vertical deficiency.
I guess one could argue that your exterior is simply a reflection of the internal, but I much prefer someone to compliment my heart or depth or creativity. And those are things you cannot gain from a quick glance. I mean really who walks by someone and says “my, what a big heart you have”. My first thought would be that person is looking for a transplant donor.
That being said I have made it a point to be more complimentary. When I see someone wearing a cute pair of shoes, instead of just thinking it I try to vocalize…when appropriate. I’m not going to knock on the bathroom stall mid-flush just to tell the lady next to me I like her shoes.
The fact is I turned thirty this month. And I guess some people have a difficult time. I can’t say I am one, but I have had odd thoughts whisk in and out of my head. So while I go through this 30 mini-funk, I thought it would be a good time to start the “30 Days of Truth” prompts I’ve been seeing around. I’ll be honest some of the prompts are pretty stupid, but it will be an interesting way to force me out of hiding. And then in 2-3 years I can look back and think who was that person.
Day 1: Something you hate about yourself.
The superficial answer would be my feet. I grew up with my mother telling me I had my dad’s feet. And that translated into a girl having boy feet. And boy feet are yucky. So I wear open-toed nothing. I am probably the only chick in the state that doesn’t own a pair of flip-flops. And no matter how many times my girlfriends tell me I don’t have man-feet I’ll never believe them.
But my true answer would be I hate that I’m not very complimentary. I get complemented on my looks, my eyes, my outfits, my shoes…but I just don’t think to compliment others. The only reasoning that I can come up with is that I don’t value superficial things. I mean it’s nice to be told you are beautiful, but that’s just make-up and hair dye. My eyes are genetics. My outfit is money. My shoes are to hide my vertical deficiency.
I guess one could argue that your exterior is simply a reflection of the internal, but I much prefer someone to compliment my heart or depth or creativity. And those are things you cannot gain from a quick glance. I mean really who walks by someone and says “my, what a big heart you have”. My first thought would be that person is looking for a transplant donor.
That being said I have made it a point to be more complimentary. When I see someone wearing a cute pair of shoes, instead of just thinking it I try to vocalize…when appropriate. I’m not going to knock on the bathroom stall mid-flush just to tell the lady next to me I like her shoes.
7.01.2010
Just call me Susie-Homemaker...
Saturday we'll be showering a baby and celebrating the soon-to-be arrival of my niece, Brooklynn. I wanted to make something special. My grandmother made all my dresses when I was a little girl and I l-o-v-e-d it! So, of course, I decided to sew...something. Um, remember I just started sewing last year (as in December) so I'm not all that talented. I found a simple enough looking pattern. And I was maybe a little too excited that it was made for French seams!
The first is an ever so slightly modified pillowcase dress. It was actually really easy.
Not bad. Then, I decided to challenge myself. I found a really cute tutorial for Ruffle-butt Onesies. So yeah, ruffles and I have not yet made friends. Making the ruffles, no problem. Sewing the ruffles to a onesie, serious PROBLEM! I just could not get the ruffles to stay in place while sewing (not even pinning helped) and a crooked ruffled-butt is not okay.
So back to the pillowcase dress I went. And challenged myself by modifying the patter even MORE.
And I added a bow on the back to help give the dress a little more form.
Okay {self-promotion} I'm really proud of the peak-a-boo front. And and little {self-depreciation} if you really look at the final products, the seams are messy and don't aline perfectly but these dresses are sized 6mo & 9mo...Brooklynn will never know the difference!
Dear Brooklynn -
I will continue the quest and conquer the ruffle-butted onesie.
...I just hope it's before you outgrow onsie wear!
Love, Auntie Heather
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