Thoughts From a Tree

Love and Messes

2009-06-12T12:03:00.000-07:00

And then, just when you feel like cursing because you stepped on a medicine bottle and the cap had surprisingly sharp edges, and you had to dodge a pair of shoes to avoid twisting your ankle, and you noticed that those shoes were right by your bra, which was also on the floor, next to the bottle of dog shampoo, which was on top of a book, which was next to your stack of mail, which was right beside your backpack, which was on top of a clean stack of clothes that was ALSO on the floor, you looked up and saw this:

And a little tear welled up in your eye, because your roommate made your bed. She took that laundry tub full of clean sheets that had been sitting in the same spot for a week now. She put the sheets back in the dryer to plump them up. And then, she braved the tornado of your room and made your bed. So that, when you crawled in, with papers still to do, with all sorts of unrelated things everywhere, you crawled into a soft space. You took a deep breath and thought to yourself, "OK, that's enough for today. I'll start again tomorrow." And then you said a prayer of thanks for the gift of having such kind souls in your life.

And the next day, you finished those papers. And you took another deep breath. And you looked at your little dog, sitting in the middle of everything, looking up at you, loving you, despite your mess, and you went to work on the next pile. Because if there's one thing you've learned (though, hopefully, there is more), it's that there will always be messes to clean up. But, if you've got people loving you in the midst of them, well, that's all you really need. You couldn't ask for more.

A Moment of Vulnerability

2009-06-09T22:36:00.000-07:00

Because I believe that when we are real with our own messes (physical, emotional, or spiritual), that frees others up to be "real" as well. And freedom is good. And you can't clean up a mess until you accept that it is one. And, it's OK -- if the mess feels overwhelming to ask for help. This is the way my room looks pretty much every finals week. Only I took this yesterday, so today it is even worse. Note unmade bed...that's right, I've been sleeping under a blanket straight on the mattress. No energy to make it. And I hate making beds alone anyway. I think I'll ask for my roommate's help when we both finish finals. Also note graduation hood on rocking chair (it's coming Saturday!). And note sweet Charlie, who loves me mess or no mess and just jumps over the piles of clothes and debris like it don't mean a thang. It will all get cleaned up as soon as the final paper is turned in. But for now, here's my mess.

A Graduation Cairn

2009-06-07T20:12:00.001-07:00

It's that time again ... finals time.

I officially have one more week until graduation -- if I finish these papers.

(And then, summer school, but I'm not thinking about that right now. Forget I even said it.)

I am swimming in words, papers, thoughts about divorce, and step-family reformation, and differentiation, and the book of Romans, and healing, and and and and ...

But I thought I'd step out of the paper pool a minute, towel off, and at least show you a few photos from this last week. It's felt like the beginning of the end. Goodbyes are starting. Only some of us are staying on for summer school after we walk. So, we -- as a cohort of friends that have done these last two years together -- are starting the process of transition.

It's been a special time ... this marking of an ending and a new beginning. Every time I go through a transition like this, I realize once again how important it is to "mark" endings and beginnings ... whether that be with ceremonies or pictures or parties or a toast or tears. I'm convinced that we -- as humans -- need to stop and look life in the face for a minute and realize where we are, how far we've come, how far we have left to go.

So, I've been doing that a bit ... sprinkled moments of pausing ... in the midst of papers.

I'm not sure where this tradition started, and I don't want to take the time to google it, but some group of people would create piles of stones in special locations to mark things that happened on their journey. The piles of stones were called, "cairns," I believe. I've started to adopt that same practice into my own life these past several years ... not usually with literal stones, but with the same idea. I want to notice the passing of life. And I think my cairns are usually composed of words and pictures.

So, here's the first of probably a few cairns to mark my almost-graduation.

Let the hugging begin!

These are two of a few entirely quality people I've grown to love here.

This is my cohort. This was our last class together before graduation.

Though it looks like it, I haven't graduated yet. But my school does have this special chapel service in which all the students and faculty get into their regalia. Afterward, on what turned out to be an entirely lovely cool, grey, clean and breezy day, we ate treats and drank coffee together. Good times.

Good Song Alert

2009-05-26T01:59:00.001-07:00

iTunes has a song counter on it. And it tells me that I've apparently listened to "Turn To Stone" by Ingrid Michaelson 150 times. And I'm so not even close to being tired of it. So, just FYI...

In other random news, it's 2 in the a.m. I'm due to be back up in 3 hours. My belly is full of chips and salsa consumed in a "I-finally-finished-that-paper-and-it's-1-a.m.-and-I'm-tired-and-hungry" temporary lapse in judgement. My doggy is in time-out for barking too much. That paper is finished. And I'm off to sleepyland.

Gone But Not Forgotten

2009-05-24T17:13:00.000-07:00

Well hello lovely blogging friends,

I know. I know. It's been a long time. A really long time. About eight weeks, infact.

hmmm ....

WAIT A GOSH DARN MINUTE. Is it a coincidence that I'm in the eighth week of my final quarter of grad school?? I'm thinkin' maybe it's not. I'm thinkin' I don't know where the last eight weeks went ... except, of course, I do. Each of these last eight weeks started with a drive into Pasadena early on Monday morning for the first class of the week and finished with a weekly paper written on Friday night and emailed to the professor before midnight ... that was the deadline. Each week. It's been a doozie of a quarter friends. And really, I don't feel too complainey (though it probably doesn't seem like that). I actually feel really lucky to be in grad school, to have a brain that works (much of the time), and a car that faithfully carries me those 40 commuter miles whenever I ask it to, to have student loans to pay the bills (yikes), to have the support of family and friends, to have all the gracious "it's OKs" when I've called to apologize for not returning a phone call promptly, to have roommates that keep me laughing and sunshine that keeps me all full of Vitamin D. I'm thankful.

But I've been gone from this space for too long. So, I'm back.

Only I'm only kinda sorta back, because most of my brain is still stuck in "Holy Crap, I'm Graduating in Three Weeks" Ville. If there is such a place.

I miss you all. I would pay a fair government-loaned penny to have any one of you reading this sitting across from me right now at The Cornery Bakery ... where I am currently soaking up coffee and cookies as solace for paper writing. The sun is starting it's descent downward, and things are turning all golden, and I'm listening to the soothing voice of Sam Beam (of "Iron and Wine"). It's a lovely moment, really.

But you're not here, and -- though I'd rather see you -- I'm just here with me. So that's who you get. Here's what you'd be seeing if I could have the pleasure of your company.

I'm trying hard to read and research diligently.

But, I get distracted by cute babies and kids with big heads and little bodies. Why is that so cute?!

Then I realize I'm distracted and start digging deep to come up with profound, original, articulate thoughts.

But I'm tired, so I eventually feel like throwing my hands up in the air and doing this instead.

Then I think about you all ... my beautiful family and friends. I imagine you sitting across from me. And I feel happy.

And, though I'm really more of a hugger than a waver, this is all I've got.

Lots of love my wonderful peeps.

dropping by

2009-03-30T15:45:00.000-07:00

Just dropping in to say hello and that I am still "here." I finished out my winter quarter and had a very short break before starting my spring quarter today, so things have been busy. But I took a walk the other day and photographed spring blooming and have a bloggety-blog stirring in my mind that I'll be typing up very soon. I send you all lots of love ... because life is too short not to share lots of love every day.

XOXO-me:)

A Smattering of Things

2009-03-07T10:01:00.000-08:00

I don't have anything profound to share: 1) because I'm at the end of a long, tiring, week, and my thinking directly coordinates with the average number of hours of sleep I've gotten over the past several days, and 2) because it's a sunny Saturday, and I'm feeling lighthearted.

So ... just to check in ... a list (I like them) of a smattering of things: (I'm going to see how many times I can incorporate "smattering" into this here post, because, well, it's a great word, no?)

1) I experienced knitting rage yesterday. You'd think that'd be too oxymoronic to exist, right? Like knitting (a relaxing activity) and rage (a non-relaxing activity) would not go together. But, my friends, they did. I've knit for hours before. I know how knit, not like a pro, but you know.... Anyway, for whatever reason, I was doing something wrong yesterday, and the result looked like a cat had gotten hold of the yarn. It was a bad scene. I eventually just had to put down the needles.

2) This upcoming week is the last week of Winter quarter for my schooling, which means I have finals the week after, and then ... (bliss) ... a one week break. I'm excited. Really, really, excited.

3) I miss the beach. Funny. I never used to miss the beach. But I've been craving it lately and will have to go soon.

4) I had a VERY humbling day last Monday that involved (in no particular order): going to a place called "Bruffy's Tow," watching some sort of Japanese Mafioso remove leather suits from his very filthy Jaguar while I waited for my car, being stranded at the long term parking lot at LAX, waiting two very long hours at the DMV, being totally overwhelmed at the kindness of a friend who came to rescue me, carrying a 20-30 pound bag all over God's green earth, and being more thankful than ever for a pillow for my head at the end of it all. The shining stars of this very dark day? The realization that I have some incredible people in my life who will TRULY be here for me in the good AND the bad.

and (because 5 is a good round number....)

5) I've been bitten by the travel bug and am craving new tastes, new sounds, new smells, and the feeling of waking up in a bed and having that fleeting moment of not being sure where I am. I think those moments are liking pushing the reset button on your brain. And I'm craving them.

OK friends, that's all for now. Happy sunny Saturday to you!

A Moment of Self-Disclosure

2009-02-25T02:57:00.000-08:00

So I had sort of a depressing moment tonight.

Moment of Confession: I heart Robert Pattinson, the actor from Twilight. I know that teenage girls all over the world have posters of him in their bedrooms. I know he is eight -- count them, eight -- years my junior. I know that he runs his fingers through his fabulous hair too much when he talks. But there is something about that five o'clock shadow, and that fabulous hair, and the accent, and the eyes, that just gets me.

So, after watching an interview with him online (yes, this story does - in fact - get more and more humiliating!), I had this moment where I thought, "Matt Damon is married to a totally normal woman he met in a bar. Maybe I'll be out and about somewhere in Los Angeles. And I'll serendipitously run into Robert Pattinson. And he'll be smitten with me. And I'll be that normal woman he's married to." Yes, I actually thought that. And then I realized that I am 30, and he is a mere 22, and that there are probably lots of skinny 21 year old girls that would catch his eye long before I would, and that I'll probably never run into Robert Pattinson in Los Angeles, and that I shouldn't even be crushing on him, and even more -- that, if I were to miraculously run into him and catch his eye -- we might not even be able to carry a conversation because he is a young actor, and I am a therapist. And the whole thought process made me feel old.

There. I feel better now. (A little atleast). I think I just needed to confess my ridiculous crush and vent with a good, long, run-on sentence. I'm gonna go relax with Teen Magazine now and reapply my LipSmackers Bubble Gum lip gloss, and get my crushed velvet dress ready for the Spring Dance, and then take a quiz from the magazine to find out if Robert Pattinson "hearts" me.

A Letter To Myself

2009-02-23T15:30:00.000-08:00

Dear Reader, I seem to love letter writing these days. I hope you don't mind.

Dear Charlotte,

Hang in there, girl.

I know you're feeling heavy these days (not physically, because -- in an effort to combat the stress and take care of yourself, you've actually lost a few unnecessary pounds -- go you!). But I know you're feeling sort of like an elephant sauntered along and sat down on your chest one day when you weren't looking. Well, you weren't looking, because you saw -- out of the corner of your eye -- that that elephant was there. And you thought that maybe, if you didn't make eye contact, he might not notice you. That's the way it works in the streets of NYC, right? Why wouldn't it work with an elephant? But he did see you (dangit), and now he's sitting on your chest.

And the worst part is, he's not the kind of elephant you can just wiggle your way out from under. It's gonna take some head-on-face-your-fears-maneuvering on your part. And you might have to actually disassemble him, rather than trying to get out from under him.

And he's not solid either. He'll only come apart in pieces.

You'll have to lop his arms off by facing that most frightening of worlds, finances (gasp!). You'll need to look over your account balances and budget and face the grim realities of grad school shortage. It's not gonna be pleasant; I won't lie to you. But, it's also not permanent. This too, shall pass, beloved. I know you wish you could buy a new shirt to make yourself feel better. But, the rub is, that actually won't make you feel better; it'll make you feel worse. Because, then, you'll feel irresponsible, and that'll make you want to avoid your finances even more. And well, you know how that cycle goes. Let's not repeat it, you and me; we can do this.

The good news is, his legs will come off pretty easily. Just make sure you sleep eight hours a night (even seven some nights will do), and you won't feel like such a grump; I promise. It's amazing how much a good night's sleep can change the colors you see.

His trunk will be a bit harder, but even that isn't impossible. His trunk can only be removed by sitting yourself down and writing those papers that you sooo don't want to write. I'm sorry, sister; there's just no way around that fact.

And his body.... The body is actually not so heavy, though it probably seems like it. His body is composed of lots of things you can't see ... emotions you don't realize you're feeling, worries you don't realize you're worrying, cares you can't control. I guess I take that back. His body is very heavy. But, you don't have to bear that weight alone. God's more than got your back on that one (pun intended). Take a deep breath and try to trust. These are the things that have to be given back to Him every day, sometimes, many times a day. You weren't made to carry them. They're too heavy.

His head is of the ambiguous variety. It's all discombobulated and twisty-like, and it's hard to get a grasp on it, isn't it? It's all the ways you're falling short. It's the ring around the toilet that you haven't scrubbed. It's the email you haven't responded to. It's the shirt that's hanging on your door knob, waiting to be hemmed. It's the scruffy fur that sticks out from under your dog's collar, whispering, "cut me, wash me." It's the birthday present you've yet to buy, the papers you've yet to file, the mail you've yet to open. I have a word of advice for you on this head of his. Grab him by the face. Use both your hands. Tough love is required. Look him straight in the eyes and say, "Quit making me feel crappy for all I haven't done. There are only so many hours in the day, and I am not superhuman. I will do what I can. But I will go to sleep with some things unfinished. Quit taunting me. Quit speaking to me of failure. I am fighting. I return phone calls. I wash dishes. I turn in my homework. I walk my dog. I call my family and tell them I love them and ask about their days. And what's more?! I work with men who don't know how to manage their temper, because no one has ever taught them, and they got beat up by their fathers and saw things little eyes shouldn't see. I hold them accountable for their actions while teaching them grace. And I challenge them to be better even though they are bigger than me. I sit with couples who don't know how not to fight. I pass kleenex to hurting women whose husbands have left them and help them find a way to mourn and live at the same time. I love people. So don't you make me feel like I'm a failure. Because I do pretty well, all things considered. And I'm not finished yet." You might even tell those eyes that are staring at you to "shut up," even though your mom told you those are ugly words. I think she'd understand now.

So, Charlotte, take heart. We can do this.

I know you don't like this elephant, not one bit. But, the longer you just stare up at him, the weaker you're gonna feel to change things.

Remember that moment a few years ago? You were talking to your mom, crying because you couldn't figure out what to do with your life. And you didn't know where to begin. The resume-writing, job-searching, city-finding ... it all felt so ... BIG. Your mom stopped you, and said, "Honey, you are trying to do it all today. Big things can't be taken on all at once. Just do one thing toward your goal today. Just one. Do you know how to eat an elephant? You eat it one bite at a time."

One bite today, Charlotte. Or two, at most. We can do this.

I love you,
me

A Love Letter

2009-02-16T01:43:00.000-08:00

Dear Hubs,

I miss you. I know I don't know you yet. Funny, isn't it? Well, maybe funny isn't the right word. Strange, perhaps? That you can miss someone you don't know. That I can....

I wonder what you'll think of me writing you a letter like this once I know you and you can read it. Will you find it endearing that I wrote to you? I hope so.

Missing you happens at random moments, my love. The other day, it happened when I rolled over first thing in the morning, my mind not yet fully awake, and expected to roll onto the soft skin of your chest, but found a flat, empty mattress instead. Sometimes missing you is more practical. It's in the rattle of my car engine, in my wishing you were there to listen to it and to take my car to the shop if need-be. And sometimes missing you is simply a longing that sits in my chest and drapes itself across moments that should be happy, but are only partly so, because you aren't there to share them with me.

I am well, love. I don't want you to worry, not that you could anyway. Most days, I am content with my life. I have been so blessed. I have some of the best friends in the whole wide world; someday you will meet them. And I have about as devoted a set of parents as you could find and sisters and brothers-in-law and nieces and nephews. And the whole clan is woven into the fiber of my being, such that I never feel entirely alone.

But, still, at unexpected moments, I miss you.

I miss the children we'll have, the way their features will tell family histories and stories, miss the way I'll see a more beautiful reflection of myself in your eyes ... because love does that you know, makes you feel prettier. I miss the way I'll love you, a way that'll make me stronger and braver and more vulnerable all at once. I think I even miss your mannerisms, the way they'll feel so familiar, the way I'll learn to read the subtle intonations of your voice, so that I'll know whether you are having a good day or a bad one as soon as you say hello. And some days, what I miss the most, is that you'll want to hear my stories, is that I'll tell them to you and know that you care. I have lots of stories, my handsome man.

I know our love won't be perfect. Judging by what I know of marriage, I imagine there will be days where you don't like me much at all, and days where you irritate the heck out of me. I know you'll have quirks that'll bug me. And I've lived with myself long enough to know I'll have my fair share of traits that'll bug you too. Maybe we'll say things we don't mean in fights. Maybe we'll say things we do ... and that'll be even worse. Maybe you'll leave your dishes in the sink, no matter how many times I ask you to put them in the dishwasher. Maybe you'll get completely exasperated at my passive refusal to keep my checkbook balanced. Maybe one of us will get sick. Maybe some days, you won't want my stories. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

But, still, I miss you. And I wonder why -- if it was Adam who was made first and had to wander around the earth, naming animals while he waited for Eve -- why I feel like I'm wandering the earth, naming things, growing things, learning things, while I wait for you. If I am substance of your very own ribs, the strong cage that protects your heart, where are you? And why do you keep me waiting?

Maybe you don't. Maybe it's I who's not ready. Or maybe life is more random than either of us would like. And maybe that doesn't mean that God is not good, that He doesn't have good gifts for us. I have known so many of His good gifts. I know He's not holding out on me. He's not like that. So, I wait.

But tonight, I miss you.

Signed with love,
Your wife

100th Post!

2009-02-03T13:58:00.000-08:00

Well, I've reached it. This is my 100th post.

To commemorate that, I thought I'd offer up 100 idbits, mostly about me.

(Gasp! That makes me feel very self-centered, but I'm sorta who I know.)

Some will be serious and some, silly....

100 Odds and Ends

100. I am very particular about my pancake syrup and would rather not eat a pancake if I don't have any good syrup.
99. My favorite pancake syrup is Butter Pecan from Ihop. Second to that is Karo's pancake syrup. I don't really like maple.
98. I haven't, thus far, struggled with some of the big addictions like drugs and alcohol. I am soooo grateful for that.
97. I DO get ridiculously obsessed with certain forms of entertainment. Over the course of my life, I've been ADDICTED to...
96. The teen romance, "My Father The Hero,"
95. Dirty Dancing
94. Pretty Woman
93. Baby Boom
92. The Bachelor ... even though 95% of those couples break up. Why do I fall for it every time??
91. The Twilight book series; never knew how powerful a story about a human girl who can't chose between a vampire and a werewolf could be!
90. Grey's Anatomy. I even have an ABC screen name ... did I just admit that publicly?
89. I have no kids, no hubby, and a dog I dress up for fun.
88. Sometimes it concerns me that I dress up my dog, but it is just so freaking hilarious...
87. I miss my husband, even though I don't know him yet.
86. Last song I listened to? Can't remember the name, but it was by Mat Kearney. His voice goes well with rain.
85. Iron and Wine goes well with rain, too.
84. I was born in Flagstaff, AZ, and my entire family was in the room during my birth (Mom, Dad, and three older sisters) because Mom told the doctor that if he didn't allow her family in, she'd just get up and go home.
83. My mother is a gutzy woman and has taught me many things, one of which is: Rules are made to be broken. See #84. :)
82. My grandmother was a high school journalism teacher, and she wrote romance novels on the side ... under a pseudonym ... but, she would never tell her family what her pseudonym was, so we have no clue which books she wrote. I guess she was a gutzy woman too.
81. I have a red toy poodle, named Charlie. He has a tupperware tub of clothes. See #88.
80. I think I NEED to write. It's an extension of me. Hence, the blog. It's a way of incorporating (semi)regular writing into daily life.
79. I also LOVE photography and hope to do it -- at a bare minimum -- as a side hobby, and maybe even more ... down the road.
78. I feel like God's fingerprints are all over nature, and He woos me through it on a regular basis.
76. I used to write letters (with pictures of course) about how much God loves us all and how much we should love each other and give them to my neighbors when I was 6 or 7 ... not because anyone told me to, just because I believed it.
75. I am pretty passionate about using cloth grocery bags. I think Americans need to do a far better job than we are doing in the whole "being good stewards of the earth" category.
74. I still keep in touch with a couple of friends I've had since infancy, as well as a couple of kindred friends I've had since Jr. High and High School, as well as a few amazing souls I knew in college and after.
73. I have been INCREDIBLY blessed with good friends. I can't believe how quality the people I know are. I love you guys. You make my life so rich.
72. I don't know if I could ever get tired of french fries and ranch dressing.
71. One of my favorite days of life so far involved: riding in a dog sled, ice-fishing, and snowmobiling around the north pole. Seriously.
70. I LOVE waking up in a tent, with the sounds of nature as my morning song.
69. Though my flesh and my heart may fail, God is the strength of my heart, and my portion forever.
68. I hate doing laundry, which is totally ridiculous, since I am blessed to have clothes that I don't have to wash with a washboard. But still, I hate it.
67. I battle with wanting to live like others aren't hurting, poor, or oppressed ... with wanting to forget that fact. It feel like too much to take in. But it is reality. And I don't want to forget that.
66. I make a mean chocolate chip cookie.
65. I love food in general (can you tell yet?:), and I love all sort of ethnic cuisines. But, if I had to pick only one to eat, it'd either be Indian or Mexican (Naan and Chicken Tikki Masala? or Guacomole with chips? I wouldn't want to part with either.)
64. I have three older sisters, three bros-in-law, and seven nieces and nephews.
63. If I gave up all practicality and just spent my days doing what I loved, I'd spend much of them dancing, much of them writing, much of them hiking, some of them baking/cooking, some of them traveling and photographing as I went, and several of them crafting.
62. I'm learning how self-defeating fear can be. And this year has been a year of facing fears and gaining freedom as I do.
61. I am a scarf addict because I feel they are the perfect accessory ... cozy and colorful.
60. I cry more than I used to ... I think my heart is more tender in some ways. I like that.
59. I grew up watching General Hospital and One Life To Live with my mom and sisters.
58. The soap opera obsession continued through college, where I used to try to schedule classes around soaps. No kidding. Then I studied abroad and couldn't watch them anymore. And when I returned, I realized how stupid they were and haven't watched since.
57. I've lived overseas in both Spain and Finland.
56. When I go home to visit my parents, I go to the same house they brought me home to as a baby.
55. I have two bumper stickers on my car.
54. One is an "FLG" sticker (Flagstaff), and the other is pink and says, "Wag More, Bark Less."
53. My dad is a devout man and an excellent scientist. And he taught me that faith and science don't have to be mutually exclusive. I'm so grateful for that.
52. I drink coffee most days ... a morning ritual I savor.
51. I get compliments on my smile. I think that's a nice thing to receive compliments for.
50. I know you're not supposed to end sentences with prepositions, but I do it anyway.
49. My mom and dad are both from Oklahoma.
48. I didn't think this impacted my life at all, until I started learning that other people don't use the phrases, "fur piece," "slicker than greased snot," or "fixin' to."
47. If I could pick a skill I don't have, it'd be the ability to sing like Jennifer Hudson.
46. Cilantro and/or garlic make anything better...even bad days.
45. One of my eyes is half brown, half green.
44. When I was little, I got my older sister in trouble by hitting myself after one of our fights and showing my mom the marks and blaming her. Isn't that awful?
43. I LOVE gatherings of friends, and I love throwing parties, but I tend to get social anxiety at my own parties, so I don't throw them too often. Weird.
42. I believe God became Man and spoke to us in our language so that we could get a glimpse of who He is.
41. I've gone through deep, dark seasons of doubting and almost lost my faith altogether when I lived in Spain.
40. Favorite sounds? anything water related (rain, ocean, stream), baby laughter, acoustic guitar, thunder, the "almost-silence" of nature
39. Favorite smells? rain, bacon, clean laundry, chlorine (from my childhood swimming days), coffee, banana bread baking, lavender.
38. I won the "Most Improved" award in Cross Country in High School.
37. That is because I came in dead LAST at my first meet.
36. And by the end of the season, I finished in the middle of the pack.
35. Cross Country was one of the best experiences of my life. It taught me I can do things I may not think I can do.
34. I've been loved unabashedly by a man, and it changes a girl.
33. For the better.
32. I've played the harp since I was nine.
31. I am a comfy pants fanatic and put them on immediately when I arrive home.
30. The fjords of Norway are one of the most beautiful bits of scenery I've ever seen.
29. Hydrangea are my favorite flower.
28. I need to write more thank you notes. I have so much to be grateful for.
27. I try to remember to play in life, even though I'm an adult.
26. My mom and dad have been married for 50 years.
25. They teach me so much about how to do life right.
24. Fall is my favorite season because of how the trees change.
23. I tend to procrastinate, not one of my best habits.
22. I tend to tell people I love them. One of my best habits.
21. Counseling individuals doesn't scare me like it used to.
20. Counseling couples or families still scares me, because it is so complex.
19. I do it anyway.
18. Washington D.C. is one of my favorite places I've ever lived. So much to do!
17. Sometimes I get sad and wonder why, and then I realized it's because Dr. McDreamy doesn't really exist, and even worse ... he's not in love with me.
16. My first car was a 1982 Honda Civic and looked like a raisin, "Foxy Brown."
15. I miss that car, and I miss paying $8 to fill up her tank.
14. Laughing is one of my favorite ways to spend time.
13. I'd like to have children and can't imagine what parts of my heart I'll find that I didn't know I had.
12. East of Eden is maybe my favorite book.
11. I collect a good mug every place I travel and have definite opinions about what makes a good mug.
10. I trust people more than I should sometimes ... perhaps the benefit/or curse of growing up in a place like Flagstaff.
9. I have a goal of running a marathon but so far have no immediate plans to do so. Uh oh.
8. I usually fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.
7. And I dream a lot.
6. I've had a few great kisses.
5. I check Facebook too much.
4. I'd like to go skydiving at least once in life.
3. I reread books and rewatch movies.
2. If I could pick a soundtrack for my life, it'd be full of lots of Sigur Ros songs.
1. People who do, instead of talking about doing, inspire me. God, help me be one of those people....

Hummus Makes Me Smile

2009-01-26T22:23:00.000-08:00

I don't have anything wise or profound to share today ... unless writing about my love of food is profound.

Seriously, it must be said...

If pita chips and hummus were a man, I would have absolutely no problem making a life long committment. AND, as if it couldn't get any better, I ventured out of my comfort zone and purchased vanilla chai coffee creamer yesterday at the store. What is my comfort zone, you ask? Well, I'll tell you. When it comes to creamers, I'm a Mocha or French Vanilla or Irish Cream kind of gal. But not anymore. Vanilla Chai may well have won my heart. And, as if THAT couldn't get any better, I tantalized my testbuds with these fabulous flavors ... all whilst listened to the angelic voice of one Allison Krauss.

What is the moral of this story, you ask? (you sure are asking alot of questions)

Pita Chips + Hummus + Vanilla Chai Coffee + Allison Krauss = the good life.

A Few Inaugural Reflections....

2009-01-25T21:33:00.000-08:00

What a week, huh? I think I'm still a little giddy from watching the nation's proud moment on Tuesday. I woke up that day and intentionally decided NOT to wear mascara. 'Nuf said.

And, while we're on the topic (well, actually, I suppose just I am on the topic, but you are reading along with me, you faithful reader, you!), I have a few thoughts on the glee that spread through most of America this past Tuesday. Before I go on, though, I just want you to know that I'm not intending to go off on a political rant. I respect each person's right to make decisions for themselves and absolutely do not seek this space as a platform to espouse my own political views. That being said, though, I would like to share a few reflections. And then I'll stop ... because reflections can easily turn into soapboxing ... if I'm not careful.

So....

Most of the people I shared inauguration day with were as touched as I was by the day's events and what they may mean for the nation and the world. But I also encountered some skeptics or cynics or maybe just people who don't agree with our new President. I heard a few voices say things like, "He is just a man. People are holding him up like he's a god or something, and it scares me how idolized he is." I heard a few voices say that they were tired of all things Obama already, like it was everywhere you turned. There weren't a lot of these voices, but there were a few. And I struggled to avoid returning aforementioned comments with some sort of snotty retort. There's a lot I still don't know in life, but one thing I do know is that snotty retorts are usually just ... snotty. And they definitely don't help anyone to think any differently. So, I think I did a pretty good job of not getting reactive to such voices. But they did get me thinking.

Why did I weep as I listened to him speak about fear and perseverance? Why were my eyes glued to the tv set every free moment I got that day? Why did I skip my 8 am class to watch such a momentous event? Do I idolize Obama? Do I place my hope in him? Oh I hope not!

I know that our President is just a man. In fact, as I watched him give his speech first thing in the morning, and then see former President Bush off, and then go to a luncheon, and then ride the parade route, and then later, as I watched him dance with his wife at the inaugural balls, I thought often about his humanity. I thought things like, "Man alive, that poor man has been going all day with hundreds of thousands of eyes on him the whole time. He must be exhausted!" I thought, "I wonder if he is doing espresso shots in between events?" I thought, "How terrible would it be if something he ate at the luncheon didn't agree with him and he's having bowel issues during all this?!" (I know, gross, but I thought it.) I thought, "Adrenaline must be keeping him upright." Our President is just a man. A flesh and blood human.

But -- and here's the kicker -- we need look no further than history itself to learn that history (and each day that creates it) is shaped by men and women in leadership. Some people seek power and use it to elevate themselves and destroy others. And others seek power and use it to inspire hope and renewal and perseverance in others. And I think partly I just wept because I actually believe our new President when he says things like, "We reject as false the choice between our safety and our ideals...our security emanates from the justness of our cause." And I feel so fortunate to have a leader that would have such audacity to hope like that.

As well, I don't think I idolize our new President. Two of my favorite verses in the Bible are in Psalm 147, verses 10, 11, "His (God's) pleasure is not in the strength of the horse, nor his delight in the legs of a man; the Lord delights in those who fear him, who put their hope in his unfailing love." I know God is my only hope. I know that we -- as people -- will cycle back and forth between wealth and recession. I know that I will be both sick and well. I know that security ultimately is never found in a door lock or a husband or a guard dog or even a president. I know that the only true security I have is that I am His. But this does not keep me from enjoying a President that inspires me to take a more active role in life. So that, when he says things like, "What is required of us now is a new era of responsibility — a recognition, on the part of every American, that we have duties to ourselves, our nation, and the world, duties that we do not grudgingly accept but rather seize gladly, firm in the knowledge that there is nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character, than giving our all to a difficult task," I want to actually do more ... to stop complaining about things and actually do something.

I'll stop now, because I fear perhaps I have already run far past reflective territory and am climbing the mountains of soapbox land. But somehow, I needed to share that because I believe that it is a real blessing when you can be proud of your leader. I cried when he took the oath of office not because I think he will fix everything. The natural order of creation won't be whole and healed until Christ makes all things new again. Only God can do such a thing. I wept because I recognized a companion in hoping and striving and fighting for what is audacious and seemingly unreachable, and yet, utterly important. That is why.

A Little Thank You Note

2009-01-18T01:06:00.000-08:00

Fingers, thank you for typing, for bending whichever direction I ask you to, following the thoughts of my mind so loyally. Thank you for keeping your tenderness, such that you can touch a sleeping baby without awakening her, and your strength, so that you can carry groceries and move furniture and win thumb wars.

Toes, thank you for keeping me balanced, for squeezing into my shoes without complaining too much, for helping me to jump.

Lungs, thank you for taking air in and for oxygenating my blood like you're supposed to. Thank you for slowing down to help me breath deep, healing breaths at night, and for speeding up to get me plenty of oxygen when I run. Which brings me to my legs...

Oh Legs, thank you. You are my treasured companions. Don't tell the others, but you just might be my favorite. Thank you for carrying me faithfully through so many streets, both foreign and familiar. Thank you for bending to the pulsating rhythm of a song and for staying steady as I stood beside sisters and friends at the altar on their wedding day. Thank you for lifting me up mountains and bending me low so that I can pray to the Maker of them. Thank you for skipping and jumping and jogging and lunging and supporting and stretching and bending ... and for looking pretty fierce in a pair of heels. I hope you can sense how much I love you, because I really do.

Ears, thank you for hearing...for catching the vibrations and transmitting them to my brain. Thank you for linking me to babies laughing and wind rustling and ocean waves pounding and thunder clapping and rain dancing and the cello mourning and the cricket singing and the sounds of my favorite voices....

Lips, thank you. Thank you for speaking and kissing and praying. Thank you.

Tongue, thank you. Thank you for all the tantalizing tastes you treat me to. And I suppose I must include you in the kissing gratitude as well....

Eyes, thank you. Thank you for opening each morning to another day, and for the chance to see the golden hour that happens every evening before nightfall, and the vivid violet of hydrangea, a color that could make me cry. Thank you for seeing the spirit in another's eyes and for capturing the way trees whisper. Thank you for opening to my favorite faces, faces that feel like home. And thank you for filling with tears when my soul needs to spill out a bit, in either sorrow or joy.

Heart, thank you. Thank you for your steady beat; you are perhaps one of my most loyal companions. Thank you for carrying on even when I need to rest, and for cooperating when I need to run, for pounding so hard I can feel you in my chest. And thank you ... for squeezing blood all through me, blood that keeps me warm and nourished and alive.

Brain, thank you. You do more than I could ever know or understand. You give me dreams and words and emotions; you help me solve problems and keep all my systems at the ready. You organize and sort and take in, even when I tire. And you hold my life, every smell and sound and sight, so tightly and carefully and tenderly.

Oh, I have so much more gratitude to share. But it is late. And I must give you all rest.

I'll end with this:

Father, thank you for designing me and my fellow brothers and sisters around the world entire. We really are fearfully and wonderfully made. Forgive me when my heart gets mean or critical, and I insult the goodness of Your work in myself or another. I could thank you every day all my life, and it still wouldn't be enough.

A little extra protein, I suppose....

2009-01-13T23:44:00.000-08:00

Nothing profound to share tonight. In fact, it's just the opposite.

I think I swallowed a spider today.

A dear friend gave me biscotti this morning, and I ate it with my caramel steamer (yum), and inevitably, a few chunks fell in the milk. I didn't think anything of them as I drank it, assuming them all to be sweet almond-ey bread.

BUT-

Then I filled that same mug with cold water and drank it during my next class. I tracked with my professor as he discussed life cycle developmental milestones. And I think he was right about at the part where parents of young children become parents of adolescents when I looked into my water and saw what appeared to be ... a spider leg.

I don't like spider legs, even when they are attached to spider bodies. It has something to do with the hair on them, and the way they bend in like 3 or 4 different places, and the way they stop cold -- like a statue -- when they see you coming. But I especially don't like spider legs when they are unattached and in my cup o' water. And then I really don't like them when they float around, taunting me, with their not so subtle reminder that a body is missing, and chances are, that I've consumed it.

So, I debated as to whether or not I wanted to isolate said leg and verify its identity, and then decided that seeing it even closer would only creep me out more. What was done was done. My classmate, Emily, looked at it, though, and concurred with me that it was most likely what I'd suspected.

And by that point, it was break time. We'd finished parents of adolescents and were going to head into parents launching children from the home after the break. I took my cup and dumped it out in the bushes outside class.

If it really was a spider leg, poor little spider.

I suppose it's safe to say that his day was far worse than mine.

Comings and Goings

2009-01-12T13:32:00.000-08:00

Along the lines of my last post, I want to start a series of posts that foster my love of visual imagery and life analogy. I see life analogies in nature everywhere I look. And they help me swallow life a bit. So, I thought I'd share a few with you.

Today's Analogy: Waves and the constancy of life

Below is a video I took last time I went to Seal Beach (right by San Diego). I feel peace when I stand by the ocean. And I wanted to capture that. If I've figured this whole add-a-video thing out correctly, you should be able to play it. Then, read on.

There's a lot that happens with the passing of time. As each cycle of leaves falling, and snow melting, and seeds sprouting washes over me, I am changed. Little wrinkles by my eyes speak of much laughter enjoyed around kitchen tables. My sun-marked skin tells stories of long summers spent playing barefoot until dark. And the strength of my fingers testifies to hours of practicing harp. "Practice makes perfect," my mother would tell me.

There are sorrows etched into me as well. They are often harder to see, but they are there. They whisper in slicks of water that appear in my eyes more easily than they used to, as I encounter the heartache of others ... because now I know what it is to love and lose. They are in my silence, because I've learned that sometimes the only authentic response to grief is to sit with it, and look at it, and acknowledge its presence. They are in the way I look at sunsets, the way I savor them but weep just a little, knowing that I cannot hold on to time, saying goodbye to today.

And one thing I've learned from these sorrows and joys is that they are constant. Life --if lived--is full of both of them on a daily basis.

How do waves fit in to all of this? Trust me. I'll get there soon. :)

My parents came to visit me a few weeks ago, and before they left, mom told me she wanted to help me make my bed. I'd washed my sheets, but they stayed folded in neat piles for a few days, because -- when I went to make my bed -- I just felt tired of the monotony of it all. We wash things. We dirty them. We clean them. And then we dirty them again. So, when mom asked my why on earth I hadn't made my bed, my response came quickly and honestly, "Because Mom, I'm just gonna have to unmake it again soon." She was amused I think, but talked me into making it. "I know, babe, but trust me, you'll enjoy a made bed anyway." So, we made it. And I have enjoyed my made bed ... even though I'll have to unmake it again in a few days.

So what's the point of all these seemingly disconnected stories?

Well, as I've gotten into the field of therapy, and as I've lived my own stories and the stories of those I'm closest to, I'm struck by how chalk-full life is of comings and goings. Little griefs. Little joys. We say hello and goodbye all the time; they mark our hours and make us human.

And I think that's one of the main reasons I find so much peace standing beside the ocean. Because that's what it does. Water builds and builds and builds, climbing toward the shore, and then -- when it is full to capacity -- it breaks, crashing to its destination. And a little bit of each waves stays on the land, soaks in, depositing its salty story there. But most of it recedes, heading back to where it came from, making room for the next wave. The waves teach me to be at peace in fullness and emptiness, as they surge forward each time without thought of their departure. And they teach me that it's OK, this cycle of birth-and-death-and-birth, of clean-then-dirty-then-clean, of hello-and-goodbye-and hello again. I will strive to continue to stay present in it all, connected to the gravity of life. And I will try to cherish the monotony, because these are the hours.

Metacommunication

2009-01-12T00:13:00.000-08:00

Well,

I am on post 92, or so blogger says ... which means that I am only 8 posts away from 100. And I know -- rationally -- that 100 is just as arbitrary a number as 101, or 174, or 2,106, but somehow, those decade numbers always seem more significant. And I have to say, the approach of blog entry 100 gets me thinking about this whole blogging thing.

I've loved having a blog so far, but I've been wondering lately if perhaps I write with my audience too much in mind ... not that I NECESSARILY know who's reading this blog. I suppose there could be people that I don't know reading it, people who connect, on a human level, with the stories of my life. But, regardless of who reads it, I can't shake the feeling that I need to be less aware of who's reading it and concentrate on just bringing my voice to the table.

It would make sense that I focus on my audience, as that tends to be the way I live my life. I am an adapter, always have been. Perhaps it comes from being the "baby" of the family. Or perhaps God just gave me extra sensitive feelers. Whatever the reason, up until a few years ago, I gauged my actions according to the expectations and anticipated reactions of others.

Then, a very wise man I was dating at the time told me that I needed to live truthfully and full of love, and not allow my actions to be shaped by the reactions of others. Funny, isn't? How one sentence, one day, has the capacity to shape our thinking for years to come....

Since then, I've been working on walking that balance between considering the responses/impacts/reactions of others and trying to living intentionally/honestly/joyfully without too much focus on the former.

Now, this is not to say that caring about how one's actions or words will impact another is a bad thing, inherently. It most certainly is not. I think -- like many things -- it's just a balance. And I tend toward one end of that spectrum.

Wow ... I meant to just focus on writing, but I ended up at philosophical pondering on reciprocity. It's late... :)

So, maybe my writing here won't change. Or maybe it will a bit. What I know is that I am going to try to bring even more of myself to this place. This space. And while I hope you enjoy what I bring, I'm gonna try not to think that far ahead....

An Ode

2009-01-10T16:18:00.000-08:00

There is nothing else quite like you, all the promise you hold.
I wake up at look at you, so unassuming, undemanding,
and I am happy.
How did I get so blessed?
Liberation and the smell of coffee.
I stretch and feel my muscles and say hello to myself, and to my Father, who never sleeps. And then I say hello to you.
I greet you with a dance, a dance I can't stop from doing, because I am just THAT happy that you are finally here.
For a few moments, I am a child without a to-do list.
It will come; it always does. But not now....
I eat with you, peanut butter and jelly oatmeal,
And then we go to Yoga class and laugh at how inflexible I am and try to breath instead of scream.
I roll the windows down and turn the music on and don't care one iotta what happens to my hair.
Sunshine and blue sky and so many open minutes inviting me to play, to breathe, to be.
Saturday Morning, this is my ode to you. Thank you for coming....

What A Wonderful World

2009-01-08T07:37:00.000-08:00

It's 7:37 am, and I have to admit, I'm feeling kinda proud of myself, because I'm already on my school's campus, having made the 20-mile trek from San Dimas ... which would take 20 minutes, were it not for the rage-inducing-mind-blowing-turn-a-sane-person-into-a-maniac Los Angeles rush hour traffic. But, enough about that. ;) I have an 8 a.m. class this quarter, which means that I can either get up at 6:00 am, and make it to campus by 7 a.m., or at 6:30 a.m., and arrive to campus at 8 a.m. Forgive me for the details; I'm still a little sleepy, and my mental filter isn't entirely in place yet. All of that to say, I'm embracing these few extra moments to put me fingerprint back in this space.

I can't believe three weeks have passed since I last wrote. But, I CAN say they have been three full weeks, in really good ways. Hopefully, I'll get my act together and tell you all a few stories from that time. For now, I think I'll just say, "Hello friends. I'm back."

And maybe I'll share a few Christmas pics, to start the "catching up" process:

It snowed ALOT, which I LOVED, until I shoveled ice boulders. Then I didn't love it QUITE as much... (but I STILL secretly love it, even though I complained)

We took a walk in it on Christmas Day. Lovely.

We wore matching red pjs. Even Charlie. Some people would say that dressing your dog in pajamas crosses the line. I say it just makes me smile.

One night my roomie and I were driving along all normal-like, and we looked over to see a flock of Santas. Literally, a flock. And so we followed them, because how many times in your life do you see a flock of Santas? And then we took a picture with them. And then we left because, well, they were getting drunk. :(

This is my fabo friend Gretchen. She just had a baby. You can't tell it because she is all fabulous and energetic and yet still real. And she's about to be a doctor. Way to go Gretch!!! I admire your stamina, friend. And your baby is a doll.

OK, that'll do for a start atleast. ;) Happy Day!

An Ode To Song Lyrics - #1

2008-12-19T01:28:00.000-08:00

I have a thing for a good lyric. Actually, I just have a thing for any string of words that manages to capture a snapshot of life and present it in glorious, interesting color. I soak it up when someone is able to describe a piece of what it means to be human in a way that is creative and fun to read.

So...speaking of song lyrics, I went to a concert the other night at Hotel Cafe, a little hole in the wall music venue in downtown Hollywood. I went ecstatic because one of my favorite musicians was gonna be there. Actually, he's not so much one of my favorite musicians; more accurately I should say that he sings one song that I am madly in love with ... like, listen-to-on-repeat-for-hours obsessed with. If it were a boy, I'd be it's stalker. You get the point. Anyway, I first heard it on Grey's Anatomy; they played it during the scene where George's family takes his dad off of life support (apologies to anyone who has not seen Season 3 of Grey's). It's called "Falling Awake," by Gary Jules. And, even though I don't really understand all the lyrics, the music is so haunting and lovely and soft that, well, it was love at first hear.

OK, so, Gary Jules was playing at Hotel Cafe, and I went there to see him. It was an electric concert (not literally; he's more of an acoustic soul) ... SOO fantastic. And, it just so happened that my roomie and I were sitting right next to Pink. But, that detail is neither here nor there. That's just one of those fun "I live in L.A." details that you can't NOT throw in. So anyway, (geez ... it is late and I am tired and I seem to have almost NO mental filter) what I DIDN'T expect was Gary Jules' opening act, a quite debonair-yet-edgy fellow named Jim Bianco. This man sang his heart out, like captured-the-audience-and-left-the-room-silent kind of performance. In one of his songs, there were a couple of lyrics that I just adored. So, I thought I'd share them with you. Finally, in paragraph four, I get to my point. ;)

Without further ado, what I consider to be a couple of very cool lyrics:

You don't chose the memories that stay with you all your life
You think you do, but they chose you, and then they hold on tight

AND

I wonder what you look like
in the morning when it comes;
knowing me, I'd probably be
jealous of the sun.
How dare it touch and warm your body
while I'm lying there,
when a man finds what he wants
he's not inclined to share....

So, check out "Painkiller" by Jim Bianco, as well as "Belong," both entirely lovely. And of course, you can't go wrong with Gary Jules' "Falling Awake."

OK, I must sleep. Perhaps tomorrow, I will have more cohesively connected thoughts.

p.s. Oh, BTW, it turns out Jim and Pink are dating ... according to the internet. Yes, we looked it up. I won't lie. But, no wonder he was singing his heart out! :)

C-A-D-E-N-C-E

2008-12-16T02:12:00.001-08:00

Cadence ... K-A-D-E-N-C-E

That's how I spelled it in my 4th grade spelling bee. I used a K. And I lost. And I was sad. But not for too long, because then my mom took me and my friend to frozen yogurt, and I got frozen yogurt with those little mini gummy bears that get all hard and chewy next to the yogurt, and I was happy.

But, I never have forgotten how to spell "cadence," and I learned very quickly what it meant. It refers to rhythm, to a constant, steady beat.

And I have to tell you, even though it's the word that bumped me out of the spelling bee, I love it. I love that it sounds like what it is. "CA-DENCE." Two syllables. Evenly measured. Like a heartbeat. And I love what it symbolizes. Constancy, steady, rhythm. And I love things with cadence. They make me feel connected to something larger than myself. Ocean tides, heartbeats, the turn of hands around a clock. They make me feel connected to God somehow, because they are far more dependable than any of us humans. Anyhow...

So, why all this talk about one silly word?

Well, because all day long, I have been serenaded by the cadence of rain. ALL DAY LONG. And let me tell you, this is no small feat for California. Weather in California means that it is not between 75-90 degrees. And I am jubilant. That's right ... down right jubilant about it. It is SUCH a gift to have days off, finals over, Christmas coming, and rain ... on a day where I didn't have to be anywhere.

So, I had to share. Because when you are jubilant, sharing is a necessity.

It's Raining Outside...

2008-12-15T01:21:00.000-08:00

And I'm listening to music, after having spent a lovely long evening with a dear friend (much love to you Mavilicious!) (Mavilicious is my friend. That's not really her name. Her name is Mav. But I call her Mavilicious for self-explanatory reasons.)

I was struck tonight ... to spend several hours with a friend. It felt foreign. Life has been so full of hustle and bustle in this grad school season of life. Time, a precious commodity ... has been dosed out in the smallest doses to the most places. Me, spread thin. And then, finals ended, and I find myself with long stretches of hours that don't yet have a dosage or a destination. It's blissful.

It makes me think about abundance and shortage ... or, as my mom taught me, plethora and dearth. It feels to me like they both carry a blessing.

Shortage (or dearth) lends value to things. When I can't have it all, what I choose becomes more precious ... because inherent in the gain of one thing is the loss of another. Shortage shows me what really matters to me. It challenges incorrect notions I might have about my priorities and shows me what they actually are. And, shortage allows me to savor the simplest of things because there isn't all kinds of clutter to keep me from seeing.

Abundance, on the other hand, fills things up. Like a river, it finds the nooks and crannies, the dips in the path, and pours in. It releases the tension of living like every moment counts and allows for ordinary moments ... which end up being some of the most precious of them all. It is gracious and generous and creates kindness.

I've found, in my own life, that I am kinda' unhappy if I live in either of those lands to an extreme. I am restless and metaphorically fat when I live in abundance without any shortage. And I am weak and ineffective when I run on the fumes of shortage for too long. As with many things in life, I'm finding it's the balance that counts.

But tonight, serenaded by raindrops and guitar strings and the voice of one very sexy John Mayer, I sit on the couch under covers and soak in abundance. The taste of peppermint marshmellow brownie madness (which potentially deserves its own blog entry) lingers on my tongue. And I smile at all the little and big things Mavilicious and I mulled over in long hours of not bothering to look at the clock.

Tonight, the rain is metaphor. I am dry soil. Pour down. Pour down.

This Is What Happens When You Finish Finals

2008-12-13T17:35:00.001-08:00

1. You give your blog a face lift and add a fancy new profile section.

2. You stay in your PJs for a whole day straight and leave the house only to take your dog on a walk and look at the beautiful, sparkly Christmas lights in the cold nighttime air.

3. Did I mention it's cold?? I'm wearing a sweater. Good times...

4. #3 had nothing to do with finals, but still, it had to be celebrated.

5. You drink water and make meals and do other such self-care activities.

6. You call your mom.

7. You start a Christmas letter.

8. You watch "The Painted Veil" and knit a little.

9. You smile for no specific reason.

10. You look around and take a deep breath and whisper a little prayer of thanks for the goodness of your life.

Atleast, that's what happened for me...

A Study in Sedentary Studying

2008-12-11T11:03:00.000-08:00

Remember Tuesday's blog about being glad that this blog is verbal and not visual?

Forget that.

I am studying. Well, I am GOING to study. After this. Uh-oh; I just heard my mom's voice in my head ("'GOING TO' never got anyone anywhere"). I digress.

Anyway, suffice it to say that Photo booth + Final exams = A study in finals week sedentary Susan

This is me happy that I am not yet studying....

Because this is how my brain's been feeling when I do study:

And here's my studying view: (the fire isn't going yet today)

And here's how my pup's been passing the time:

I am glad for a faithful companion! :)

OK, I'm off to turn the "going to" into a "did."

much love to you!

Study Break

2008-12-09T13:35:00.001-08:00

Top Ten Sensations I'm Experiencing Right Now:

1. HEARING: Pandora radio play piano music, because it's some of the only music I can listen to and write papers to at the same time.

2. HEARING: the whir of our fire because it's cold enough to have it on, and that means I'm....

3. FEELING: very very content to be fireside. life is better by the fire. it just is.

4. FEELING: hungry, because I tried to make it through a section of my paper before starting lunch. I made it through the section and then got on to blogspot. procrastination is funny. But, I really AM hungry, so that'll be next.

5. FEELING: kind of grungy. not gonna lie. suffice it to say that i am quite thankful that this bloggedy-blog is verbal and not visual. :)

6. SENSING: the weight of my pup's lil' sleeping body. He's laying on my legs, having long ago given up on trying to rouse me from the couch with several laudable actions: first, he gave me the "aren't I cute?" eyes and the "look at my sweet, wet, button nose!" Then, he transitioned to excessive barking. When that didn't work, he proceeded to jump up on the couch, step all over books and papers and computer, and patted my arm with his paws. Then, after negotiation of my papers and books strewn here and there, he climbed over to my legs and layed down. sweet pup.

7. WISHING: my work were all done, and turned in, and I was at a yoga class, stretching and breathing. soon enough, Susan, soon enough.

8. MISSING: people I love.

9. NEEDING: to pee.

10. SMELLING: nothing, and that is a good thing, given #5.

Happy Tuesday to you, whatever this day holds. I'm off to a turkey sandwich and some coffee. mmmmm.