[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!

 

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!

[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.

[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. 

[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.

[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!

[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.

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

Patty cake, patty cake...

I am not a baker, but I have conquered the muffin.

That's right these Orange-Cranberry mini-Muffins are homemade!

If you look close, you can see little bits of orange zest that look like little sprinkles...

because that's is as close as I'll ever get to actual sprinkles.

And because this weeks produce pack included free blueberries, 

I'll soon be conquering the blueberry beast! 

And...because I was thinking of this the entire time I was baking my muffin{s}, the lovely Betty White:

Dreaming of my favorite highway...

Today, more than ever, I find myself craving the west coast.

Maybe it's the weather...hot, humid, miserable.

But I want nothing more than to go back and see the sites.

To walk among giants.

To seemingly drive off the edge of the earth.

To be left breathless.

To sit here...forever.

And thank the artist who created it all.

What happens when you listen...

This afternoon I took a leisurely lunch with my dear friend, Cheryl. We were celebrating her birthday mother’s day. Chatting and enjoying each other’s company as always. While exiting the restaurant Cheryl noticed a large SUV backing up dangerously close to another car, so she waved the driver down to warn him. A moment not-so different from those Liberty Mutual commercials.
At some point the SUV actually hits the car causing it to move. And like anyone would do, we’re left dumbfounded thinking is the dude going to leave a note. What if that was my car. But we continue on through the parking lot wrapping up our conversation and saying our goodbyes Occasionally looking back as a young man exits the vehicle and his father attempts to back out, but because there is a large moving truck parked behind them they cannot get out of the space.
As the older gentleman exits, he yells at us frustrated “is this your car – this is not your car, move on you (#!?%#) nosey white people - mind your own (#!?%#) business.” And Cheryl and I looked at each other shocked. Flabbergasted. We were just talking to each other not too concerned with what was happening. Cheryl actually stopped the young man from causing serious damage to the other car. We were being. Nice.
And I of course do what I always do. Cry. Because in spite of my tough faux brick exterior, I am incredibly tenderhearted. For real...I'd make a great filet mignon! All I could think is {this} is exactly what is wrong with the world today. I looked at Cheryl and just said at some point that man must have been really hurt by a white person...he just needs a hug. Just like when a “Christian” does something terrible to another person and that person’s opinion towards the church is forever changed.
And you know what happened...eventually, the guy walked up to us and thanked us. And I told him his white people comment upset me. I told him what I told Cheryl (minus the Christian comment). And he looked at me and said, “you know I do need a hug.” So I gave him a hug. A real hug. And we had a conversation. And we listened.
Now, what I didn’t say is that this was a black man. And we are the two whitest women you have ever seen. Probably pushing towards neon white. (And the color of our shell is only a big deal because this is the south.) What I didn’t way is that this was a thugged out, pants-on-the-ground black man. What I didn’t say is after the hug, he looked as us and said, “ya’ll must be church people.” And what I didn’t say is that Cheryl and I just smiled at one another and shook our heads no.
What I didn’t say is that I have had several “Christians” tell am not one.
We may not go to church, but church certainly finds us. Every day. In the way we treat one another. In the way we love. In the way we pray. God is not found in a brick & mortar building. He is found after an earthquake or a hurricane. He is found in the way we love. In the way we give. And the way we listen.
I wonder what would happen if we all stopped talking so much and just listened. Because the thing is those words he yelled were not about us, but his own pain surfacing. And today I just so happened to be the one listening vs. the one yelling. And maybe...just maybe the next time he sees a couple of white women he'll remember that we don't all clutch onto our purses for dear life when we share an elevator with a black man.