Welcome to the Ware House (and so the puns begin)

I have never, ever, EVER experienced so much love before! Walking into the rehearsal dinner, walking into the church, walking into the reception hall--the LOVE just bursted forth from the corners of the room, pouring over me like a waterfall and filling me up. I was bouyant, present and yet somewhere else entirely--heaven. Days later and I'm still floating somewhere above the earth, hand-in-hand with my new husband :)

Thank you to all my family and friends for giving me the experience of a lifetime. While the weekend flew by, I will remember everything about everything, and my heart will smile at the memories. SO MUCH love to you all, and may my love lift you up like your love lifted me. <3 <3 <3

Here's a link to Tom K's photos. Ooogle at your own risk. http://www.tomkphoto.com/photocart/

P.S. I'll write again as soon as my brain comes back to me.

Wedding WHOAS, not WOES.

Less than two weeks till the wedding,

and good God, I've been running around like a chicken with my head cut off.

I know my name is Erin, but I ain't down with errands.

"Pick up this, meet with so-and-so, sign off on this, be here at such-and-such time..."

Where are all my bridesmaids when I need em?

"You know what though?" (<--for you, B)

As pooped as I am, I know what these to-do lists mean--

A and I are getting married NEXT WEEK! (Insert loud, obnoxious, girly screaming).

And for that,

for something like THAT

(you know, saying "I love you!" and "I'm totally obsessed with you!"

and "I can't live without you, so hows abouts we stay together forever?"

to the person you love, are obsessed with, and can't live without

 in front of EVERYONE)

well, for THAT

I wouldn't begrudge a SECOND of my running around.

Exhausted, spent, wiped, no matter...

I'll be trotting down that aisle la-dee-da-ing,

bright-eyed and goonishly smiling.

See you all there :)

The next time we meet, say hello to Mrs. Ware. She's a real dish.

*Image from our wedding photographer's sample album.

Check tom K out @ http://www.tomkphoto.com/

A little wine, a little Punkin' Chunkin, a little dirt, and the gloriousness that is Michael Buble's Christmas album.

Does anyone else have a hell of a time getting pumped to clean house?

Last night was D-Day for A and I. There were fuzzy sweater hairballs lining the floorboards, stacks of mail strewn across the kitchen table, and general thingamajigs and whatnots cluttering up the place. It was time to clean. But not right away. Oh not yet. Not until A and I turned on the fireplace, cracked open a bottle of wine, swaddled ourselves in blankets on the couch, and watched the hour-long finales of both Punkin' Chunkin' and Fast Forward (Which, by the way, I was not 100% impressed with. Since when did Olivia Benford warm up to Lloyd Simcoe? Boo). But even 2 hours later, full on TV and booze, A and I couldn't bring ourselves to clean. We scoped out the filth from our toasty perch on the couch. From where I was sitting, I could see the heater blowing fallen sparklies from our Christmas ornaments across the floor. A pointed out how he couldn't put his feet on the coffee table as it was covered with his school books, notebooks, newspapers, markers, and MORE mail. We moaned and BEMOANED, as our situation was really dreadful, you see. It was too much! Our dirty house was too much to clean. It'd be too hard! We couldn't do it all! No way we could possibly...And then it hit me! Michael Buble's Christmas album Let It Snow! Maybe, just maybe if we put on some fabulous Christmas tunes, we could do this thing! Maybe if we sang along to his rendition of Amy Grant's "Grown-Up Christmas List," we could make something pretty of our place again. And so I got up from the couch, tip-toed across the lint-littered floor, and popped the CD in the stereo. Ba-da-BA tooted the horns! "The weather outside is frightful! But the fire is so delightful!" sang Michael Buble! And so the vacuum came out of the closet! The broom came out of the pantry! The 409 danced itself across the counters, the tiles, the toilets! It was a scene out of Beauty and the Beast, I tell you what. Both beautiful AND beastly. But we did it! Our house is officially PRESENTable again! And that's our Christmas gift to YOU!

Daily Dose of Dillies: Banana Nut Cheerios

I suppose you have to like bananas to like these (Bananas are my favoritest fruit EVER! Num, num, nummy), but they are FABULOUS! Darker, crunchier, and more perfectly round than their Cheerio counterparts, these bad boys are flavorful enough that their banana, nutty sweetness shines through when mixed with other cereals. A breakfast delight, I tell you! Like my Mama done gone and baked me a banana bread in a bowl for breakfast! Try them, please. And love them dearly like I do. Tangent--I still can't figure this out. So, a single Cheerio is a Cheerio, but is a single Kix a Kix? Or a Kick? A Smack is a singular Smacks, but is a Chex a singular Chex? Or a Check? I'm so confused. The cereal companies should really take to explaining their namesakes on the backs of the boxes, don't you think? Maybe I'd read them then. Riveting reading, for sure. Cause the little "Find all the hidden marshmallows" on the back of the Marshmallow Treasures box ain't cutting it these days. Even if I was half-blind, I could find all 7. That's beside the point though...BANANA CHEERIOS ARE THE POINT! Go get em. "Go on! Git!" (<--If you can name that movie, I'll send you a box of em, myself).

P.S. HAVE THE HAPPIEST WEEKEND, READERS! I <3 YOU.

* image from http://summamamas.stblogs.org/ Let's pretend there's a man in those pics, shall we?

Hodge Podge

Words, words, my magical fruit! The more that's said, the more I hoot!

While it's not a rarity for me to linger on the wordings of things (I've already come clean about my compulsive eavesdropping habits), I feel the need to discuss the words that've been swirling around me lately. Like music lyrics! Now, A tells me he can love a song without even knowing the lyrics. He claims the beat, the tune, and the instruments being played are enough for him. I don't deny that a song is more than its lyrics, but I'm speaking for myself when I say that I can't love a song without loving its lyrics, too. So, I'm gonna reveal a couple of my recent favorites...lyrics, beats, tunes, and all!

How bout that Owl City, huh?

Cave In

Swallow a drop of gravel and blacktop
cause the road tastes like wintergreen.
The wind and the rain smell of oil and octane
mixed with stale gasoline.
I'll soak up the sound,
trying to sleep on the wet ground.
I'll get ten minutes give-or-take
cause I just don't foresee myself getting drowsy
when cold integrity keeps me wide awake.
Get me out of this cavern,
or I'll cave in.
I'll keep my helmet on
just in case my head caves in.

Cause if my thoughts collapse
or my framework snaps,
it'll make a mess like you wouldn't believe.
Tie my handlebars to the stars so I stay on track.
And if my intentions stray, I'll wrench them away.
Then I'll take my leave, and I won't even look back.

If My Heart Was a House

You're the sky that I fell through,
and I remember the view whenever I'm holding you.
The sun hung from a string,
looking down on the world as it warmed over everything.

Chills run down my spine
as our fingers entwine
and your sides harmonize with mine.
Unmistakably, I can still feel your heart beat fast when you dance with me.

Circle me and the needle moves gracefully back and forth.
If my heart was a compass, you'd be North.
Risk it all cause I'll catch you if you fall.
Wherever you go,
if my heart was a house, you'd be home.


And have you heard Train's new song Hey, Soul Sister? I wasn't convinced of its fabulousness until I figured out its lyrics :)

Your lipstick stains on the front lobe of my left-side brains,
I knew I wouldn't forget you,
and so I went and let you blow my mind.
Your sweet moonbeam,
the smell of you in every single dream I dream,
I knew when we collided—you’re the one I have decided
who's one of my kind.
Hey Soul Sister, ain't that Mr. Mister on the radio, stereo?

The way you move ain't fair you know.
Hey Soul Sister, I don't wanna miss a single thing you do tonight.
Just in time,
I'm so glad you have a one track mind like me.
You gave my life direction,
a game show love connection.
We can't deny I'm so obsessed.
My heart is bound to beat right out my untrimmed chest.
I believe in you. Like a virgin, you're Madonna,
and I'm always gonna wanna blow your mind.

Well you can cut a rug!
Watching you is the only drug I need.
So gangster, I'm so thug,
you're the only one I'm dreaming of.
You see, I can be myself now finally.
In fact there's nothing I can’t be.
I want the world to see you'll be with me.


There are obviously way more talented lyricists than these two groups, so pray share your favorites with me! Spread the word-love. Spread the Word, love. Spread the word "love."
 
I'll end with my most recent poetry attempt. The prompt was to write about a sacred place, though not a place typically thought of as grand or majestic. Here goes:

He didn’t say he was comfortable.
And he didn’t say he wasn’t.
It was his sunken cheeks and purple lips,
his waxy hands and cold gold rings,
the reflection of white roses in his glasses,
his best suit too big for his body,
the lacquered box, his satin-lined bed...
It was him lying there, still, quiet
that said he was gone.
Only the passing of white tissues
—sorry white flags—
spoke for him.
He wasn’t there.
And he was.
He was talking, talking, talking,
surrendering,
before they put him in the ground.

* images from gettyimages.com, redbubble.com, fbuk.deviantart.com, and flikr.com

Decemberama, Mama! The Season of Light!

NOTE: It's my greedy and gripey friend A's fault that I wrote today :-P
ASIDE-NOTE: A's actually a very giving and happy person (And I'm happy to have readers who are up-to-date with my blog and want more! As Britney would say (and no, not "It's Britney, bitch.")--Gimme gimme more! Gimme more! Gimme gimme more! What more could I wish for?).

It's the 1st of December, people! Am I the only one who's left standing back dumbfoundedly like "Whaaaaaaaa?" I am flabbergasted it's the last month of 2009! Tangent--Isn't flabbergasted maybe one of the best words in this world? Urbandictionary.com claims some variances of the word are: flabbergas--"the piece of skin hanging down from someone's throat;" to flabbergas--"the motion your ass cheeks make when you rip a huge one;" and flabber--"a person who is such a boob at something that they should not do it at all." I'm not sure if the variances make me like the word more or less. Granted, I will replace my standard "dunce" or "dope" with "boob," which should be funny :) Back FROM the tangent--How does everyone else feel about the end of yet another year? Does anyone else get introspective about the whole thing? Seriously, it's like the minute December hits, I start reminiscing, going over events and emotions in my head, trying to form a solid picture of the past year. Back TO the tangent--Has anyone checked out the blog "L'Image Quotidienne"? This woman, Mercedes McAndrew, has taken a portrait picture of a stranger every day for the past year (Incredibly brilliant, I know). Here's the link to her project's blog: http://limagequotidienne.blogspot.com/2009/11/portraits-365-234.html  Not only do her diverse and stunning pictures make me see and really appreciate the beauty of humanity, but I love the little quip she asks each stranger to fill in--"2009 is __________." As if it's possible to sum up an entire year in a sentence! Though I'll admit I've been doing nothing BUT summing lately. My best attempts are: 2009 is a passage from one phase to another--a growth, a becoming, perhaps even a becoming growth! (<--I know, I know, I cheated on that one...that was technically 4 sentences). 2009 is a year of blessings and personal prosperity! 2009 is a whirlwind of happenings and happiness :)

What do you have to say about your 2009?

STUFFING! (and other stomach-related matters)

First of all, what do you think of my blog's fancy-shmanciness?! Like a new hair-cut for my blog. I'm in love...

But on to less fanciful matters! (As if).

Woohoo for this 3 day work week! Come Wednesay, I'm gonna skip out of the office building, screaming, "Sayonara UCC, I've got some eatin to do!" Well, I'll probably just say it under my breath and be done with it, but still! At exactly 5PM on Wednesday, I'll be giddy with the gobs of grub to come! (How brilliant was that "gobs of grub" bit? Thank you, thank you...) I'm gonna stuff myself with stuffing, people! (Sounds painful, doesn't it? It might be :-/ ). What is everyone's favorite dish at Thanksgiving? Mine is obviously stuffing, though it's not the stuffing you're thinking of (though that stuff IS deliciousness in a dish). I take some cranberry sauce, some buttered roll, some green bean casserole, some mashed potatoes, some corn, some salad, and some stuffing and whip it all up nice and good until I've created an entire Thanksgiving dinner in one bite. (For all those out there who don't let their food groups touch...this isn't for you). I tell you what, my concoction brings new meaning to the word "stuffing." Try it for yourselves this year (but make sure someone bigger and stronger than you is nearby in case the Heimlich is in order).

Oh, Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving, how I love thee. Is it not one of the better holidays? Getting together with our closest friends and family, saying what we're thankful for, and sharing a FEAST (after which we take a nap, wake up only to eat seconds, and then nap again, dreaming of all the blessings in our bellies). I am beside myself just thinking about it! (So what if Thanksgiving makes me weepy?) I have so much to be thankful for this year! Don't you? I say we take this saying what we're thankful for bit beyond the dinner table. Let's make this a Thanksgiving week of sorts. I'm gonna make sure the people who I'm thankful for know I'm thankful for them (my smart, goofy, and thoughtful fiance; my generous and supportive parents; my funny and outgoing brother; my  fiercely loyal and riotous friends...), and I'm gonna make sure the things I'm thankful for don't get taken for granted (our warm and comfortable house that has lots of natural light and smells like laundry; my job that not only pays the bills, but also allows me to see my dad and brother every day...) There's so much to say thank you for, I say we get after it!

But right after the Daily Dose of Dillies, of course, that being WINE!

As many of you know, A and I are going to Napa Valley for our honeymoon, so it's no surprise we like wine. However, this Daily Dose of Dillies ain't just about how wine gets my tastebuds in a flavor-tastic frenzy or how wine buzzes are sleepy and slow and so perfect for wintry evenings in front of the fire. No, this is about the statement that wine makes! As if its presence dubs the day "an occasion." This is about the fact that one bottle of wine is not just begging to be, but it's meant to be shared! It's a bringer-together-beverage...er. And it's a sipper (not meant for Flip Cup and Beer Pong), which means it should be imbibed slowly (not exactly binge-appropriate), which means it provides room for conversation (which I can vouch is true time time and again! Or bottle for bottle, rather). I've really come to appreciate it, the adult of the alcohol family. Maybe set up shop with that special person (Or a group of friends, for that matter. It's the holidays, ain't it? Have some people over!) and pop a bottle, huh? Tell me where I'm wrong...

*image from http://media.photobucket.com/

Tree Tidings

So, I may have volunteered myself to decorate the company Christmas tree this year. All of my excessive excitement about this holiday season (which has basically been the focus of my last 3 or 4 entries) got the best of me. And you know what? I'm going all out. I'm gonna insert a little public art flair to the tree this year...make some cards, write good tidings inside them, and hang them on the tree. What do you think of that? Holiday cheer at its finest? I'd agree. And I'm thinking I'll do the same on my tree at home. Why not spread the good news, right? I'm gonna make a card a day and hang it on the tree for A to find; make him fall in love with my sweet, sweet Santa self. I'm gonna get something fabulous for Christmas this year, I'm sure of it ;)

*image from http://www.goodhousekeeping.com/

Grocery Shoppin and Home-Cookin

1) I love droppin the gs at the end of words. Try it for yourself. Don't you feel all down-home and friendly?

Now that we're feelin our southernest...

I want to talk about how wonderful it is grocery shoppin and cookin with another person. Last night I picked up A on my way home from work so that we could experience the fabulous place that is Safeway together! No, that's not quite true. I picked him up so we could grab fixins (<--what did I tell you about the preciousness of no gs?!) for our bean burriladas (burrito + enchilada). Not only is grocery shoppin more fun with 2 people, but it's WAY more fun with the man who loves you (because he calms you down when you can't reach your favorite cereal because 2 women with full carts and 12 kids between them are parked for a mid-aisle chat in front of the Cheerios; because he reaches over their poorly-positioned heads, charmingly saying, "Excuse me. My little girl's GOTTA have her Cheerios," the mothers smiling on knowingly, until they see that he meant me. And then...he pushes the cart ;) ). So there we were grocery shoppin with every single human being within the city limits who works a 9-5--the middle of a hungry pirahna fest really--just as happy as clams to be together. Ain't that somethin? Like those stories that end with "and then I found 5 dollars," and then we made some fabulously beany, cheesy, salsa-y burriladas!

Not to mention, as the cashier handed us our receipt, she said, "Have a good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Ware." Why, we certainly will! I smiled to myself. I have to say that I've really grown to appreciate comments like "Have a nice day!" or "Enjoy the rest of the afternoon!" Something about others well-wishing me makes my heart happy. And comments like that lift my mood, too. Like, Now that you told me to, I will DEFINITELY have a fabulous rest of the day! One-liner pep-talks is what they are. I think I might put a little thought into some new conversation enders. Dumb & Dumber's "Don't go dyin on me!" too much? Maybe a little bit. How about "Hope you get a good night's sleep!" Or "Maybe you'll get some good mail today!" Alright, so I need to put a little MORE thought into it...

Last but not least...

Daily Dose of Dillies: Married Talk

After last week's bridal shower, I realized that I'm now a part of the "Married Talk" circle. Before I got engaged, conversations about kids or houses or spouses were directed elsewhere (not that I minded being left out, as I wouldn't have had much to contribute, anyway). But now, my married coworkers address me, include me in their married talk. Just today I got asked how many kids A and I want, when we want them, and how life's different with and without kids. We talked about pregancy and raising kids while working. We talked about splitting time between families during the holidays and how we want to decorate our houses for Christmas. It was bizarre. But in a good way. It's like I was in unfamiliar territory in that I was talking about topics and issues that I've really only talked about with A. That's when it sank in for real--I'm a legitimate part of this new conversation circle; I think about and have opinions on married-related issues; I can talk to other married women now! Sounds ridiculous, but it made me feel so grown up, like I've been inducted into the next phase of my life :)

*image from http://frugalforlife.blogspot.com/ (The pic looks like it was taken in the1950s! The Safeway of today is not NEARLY as exciting as those cashiers' robes).

Winter Walls

I woke up this morning to warped window sills and bloated walls. The snow got in.

I took the blanket with me and went to the window.
Running my palm over the warped wood,
I watched the snow melt and drip off the rooves below,
knowing that Fall was over.
I might not have noticed it, but for the bubbles in the paint.

I'm too tired for Winter and the heaviness of it.
I just want to go back to bed and
sleep through this season without you,
but the cold's inside me, too.
In the night, it soaked me through and through,
filling me up with something that,
I hope,
will wake me to my own life again.

Same Old Story

So, my lady coworker friends threw me a bridal shower last Friday night. Eeek, it was so much fun! (And I walked out with half a sheetcake, too, so...) But anywho, I knew before going that I'd get asked "How did he propose?" (a story I LOVE to tell), which got me thinking about all the stories we spend our lives telling and retelling. Earlier this week, being my regular eavesdropping self, I happened to overhear my cubicle neighbor, a 50 year-old family man, on the telephone. He was recounting times when he gifted his wife jewelry (times I gathered were out-of-the-blue giftings, not holidays or anniversaries. I know--adorable). He mentioned the time he put a diamond bracelet in a flashlight and handed it to his wife, saying, "You light up my life." He also mentioned the time he put a fancy-shamncy ring in the prize bag in a Cracker Jacks box. His wife opened the box and reached for a handful of deliciously carmelized popcorn and nuts, her fingers finding themselves wrapped around a heavier-than-plastic ring instead. Freakishly fabulous find, huh? I know. No wonder that man retells the story. Makes him look like a regular gift-giving god. But, putting aside my gift envy for a second, I can't stop thinking about the stories that are my staples, my bread-n-butta. Certainly the day A and I got engaged is my newest favorite, as recounting all the preciously planned details of that day woo a room full of women like George Clooney might (not to mention, I spoke to Kevin Bacon IN PERSON that day, so it's a double prize kind of story, as in doubly entertaining).

But there's also the story from when I was 10 years old and had pneumonia. I fell asleep on the black-top at recess, an act that broke the camel's back and got me sent home--sleeping at recess! Ha! As if that's the all-determining factor regarding a kid's sickness or wellness. And there's a Part 2 to that story, as well. I had a soccer game later that week, and for some unknown reason, I was determined to go. I feigned wellness as best I could, telling my parents I felt great and was totally pumped for the game. Driving to the game, however, I thew up out the window. My dad put his hand on my back and said, "I knew you were too sick to play today, but I thought we could at least watch the game. But that idea's no good either." I told him that throwing up had made me feel instantly better and that I wanted to stay and watch the game. Walking to the field, however, I threw up again! I've never thrown up so much in my life as I did that day! And in public! Needless to say, my dad turned me right around and drove me home. And there are so many more stories that I love to tell! Stories that I've worked over and over and so are exponentially better now, but that's not the point! My point is to get you thinking about YOUR stories, those infamous moments which, when shared, wow a crowd again and again and again. And then share them with ME. Please. Now. Thank you.

Daily Dose of Dillies: Public Restrooms (Don't ew yet).

While I'm usually one to bash public bathrooms--they're uninviting, unsanitary, and un-private--I've had a minor change of heart, minor in that I've changed my mind about certain public bathrooms. The first being the bathrooms in the office building where I work. Here's the sitch: I arrive at work at 8AM everyday. As soon as I log into my time-tracker-keeper (it's official name), I hustle over to the break room, pour myself a huge cup of coffee, and proceed to gulp it down as fast as its temperature allows me. Which means that come 8:30, I've got the fullest bladder known to man. So, I go to the bathroom. At 8:30. Every day. (Here's the part where I reveal the reason behind my change of heart...) I open the door. The lights are off. I smile to myself. I'm the first pee-pee-er of the day! I turn on the lights as if it's my own personal bathroom to which I reserve the electricity rights. I then proceed to walk by each empty stall, all the toilets freshly cleaned and ready for the day's use, and pick one at random. I semi-confidently step inside (when before I used my shirt sleeves, my elbows, my feet! to set-up shop, refusing to let an inch of my skin touch ANYTHING). It's glorious, I tell you, having an entire public bathroom to yourself! The choicest stalls, PLENTY of toilet paper, no need to be quiet (sometimes I hum in the bathroom; don't you?), no worries about hurrying for the next person in line, no water-logged countertops soaking your shirt or pants, and you can take as long as you want in front of the mirror without fellow pee-ers thinking you're vain! No longer does the public bathroom feel uninvited, unsanitary, and un-private. Brilliant! Best part of the work day maybe, my morning soiree with the stalls :)

But the office bathrooms aren't the only bathrooms I've grown to appreciate. There are the Nordstrom bathrooms! Or the "Women's Lounge" as it's hoity-toit-ily named. There are couches and full-length mirrors and the stalls have a million hooks for hanging your purse, your jacket, your shopping bags, your...well, if you had something else, there'd be a hook to hang it on. If I'm on the other end of the mall and need to pee, I hold it in just so I can use the Nordstrom bathrooms! Intense? I know.

With all my positive public bathroom experiences, I've taken to checking out restaurants' restrooms, too (specifically sit-down restaurants' restrooms though...no McDonald's McNastiness for moi). Not only are restaurant bathrooms generally the cleanest of the bunch, but they tend to be fancier. There's this restaurant in Denver called Jing; their see-through glass bathroom doors fog over and opaque the minute you lock them! Or how about Del Frisco's bathrooms! They've got terry cloth towels for drying your hands! And hairspray! And floss! And breath mints! Most importantly, however, going to a restaurant's bathroom provides one with the opportunity to say, "I'm gonna go freshen up real quick." Freshen up? Don't mind if I do ;)

*image from http://conversationarts.wordpress.com/2009/05/26/storytelling-to-motivate/

Eeeeee!

That's my excited noise, if you didn't know. Sometimes I feel so happy that it overwhelms me, and I have to clap my hands together and squeal, Eeeee! That doesn't happen to everybody? Oh.

My Monday Madness has officially dissipated, and I am finally ready for the week! Actually, for the rest of the year! Just this morning, I got egg nog delivered to my door, and I swear to God, it tasted like Christmas. That one sip changed everything. Suddenly, I want to string garland from all the staircase banisters! I want a cornucopia centerpiece! I want to burn fig and firewood oil! I want to put tiny lit trees in every room of the house! I want to bake a gajillion pumpkin pies (and secretly leave them on my neighbors' doorsteps). I want to play Mannheim Steamroller CDs! I want to grab this holiday season by the shoulders and shake out every last bit of its cheer and festivity! Sound a little rough? Yeah, well, I want to make the absolute MOST out of this season...

See, I've ALWAYS loved this part of the year; from October to January, life feels like one big party to me. I mean, you got Halloween--dressing up in ridiculous costumes, handing out/receiving FREE candy, and basically acting like a kid again. It's a FABULOUS holiday, if you ask me; I can't seem to get enough of it. Then you got Thanksgiving--getting the whole damn fam together for some serious grubbing, and by serious, I mean NOT thinking twice about that second helping of stuffing AND cornbread AND cranberry sauce AND green bean casserole AND pumpkin pie....Like alcohol, Thanksgiving messes with our self-control. (Thank God I don't eat turkey anymore, or I'd have some serious inhibition issues. Yipes). Then there's Christmas! Yet another excuse to get the family together and eat tons of food. Granted, Christmas also brings with it house lights and yard creatures and pine trees and snow and stockings above roaring fireplaces. Just writing all that made my heart back-flip :) And THEN, and THEN you've got New Year's Eve! A night to reminisce the past and party--I mean prepare ;)--for an entirely new year. Fireworks, champagne, friends, and second chances (the grown-up version of do-overs, which I take full advantage of)...all reasons for celebration <3

But this holiday season is different than any before...And I'm thinking it's because a new holiday has been added to the mix--a wee little thing called a wedding! December 19th is a stone's throw away, my friends! Can you believe that Ms. Erin Mathews will be Mrs. Erin Ware in less than 40 days?! Me neither! I'm foreseeing Mrs. Ware doing some mind-blowing things though...so the sooner I can bring her front and center, the better. Yes, I'm giddier than a goat right now because my usual excitement about the holiday season has blended with my current excitement about my wedding. It's excitement overload, people! Eeeee, I tell you! Eeeee!

Not to mention, this giddiness has made me more aware of my senses. All this heightened excitement, and now I've got heightened senses, too?! I'm seeing in full color--a yellow leaf against the gray-blue sky, the light from our kitchen window brightening the front steps. I'm smelling the cold of winter--its burnt-firewoodsy smell that reminds me of the taste of snow. Which brings me to my tasting--the hot, hot oatmeal with the creamy, nutmeggy swallow of egg nog. I'm listening more closely--to A's feelings, his worries, his dreams. In his voice, I can hear his inner happenings. And I'm feeling more alive than ever--the energy in my body giving me goosebumps and making my heart beat faster. I'm tick-tocking, tick-tocking, ready to go off and chirp like a cuckoo clock! 

I want, I NEED, to make the most of right now, because this is a rare time. I need to remember these days better than I've ever remembered any before...because this is a time of blessings. This is a time of family and friends and love and laughter and a whole bunch of other 10-dollar words that mean perfect. This is my year, God's telling me, to really pay attention. He's given me the gift of heightened awareness so that I can live this part of my life how it's meant to be lived--unabashedly. I'm gonna put all my touchy-feelers out there and overwhelm my senses. And then I'm gonna put my overflow of excitement back out into the world and share it with those I love. As I said before (only in slightly different words), I'm gonna beat the crap outta this holiday pinata! (Excuse the near-violent outburst again, but...) Will you do the same?

*image from overstock.com

A Case of the Mondays With a Side of Story

It's Monday, which means I'm tired and incapable of producing anything worthwhile, so please excuse the short, short, SHORT entry; the least I could do for you is a dollop of dilly...

Daily Dose of Dillies: Eavesdropping.

I've always been one to listen in where I'm not invited. But it was a Naropa professor who told me to take my bad manners to the next level and document overheard bits of convo. Here are some of the gems I've captured:

(a guy hitting on a girl) "You're the second coming of Jesus."

"I'm gorgeous inside."

(a chef ordering chicken over the phone) "I'm a thigh guy, so I always wanted a thigh with my breast."

"I get free food. Did I tell you I get free food? I get free food."

"He didn't answer me, so I was like that's a yes."

"He dated her for 4 years? Ew, how wrong."

"Talk about being someone's bitch."

"Do you guys have gift cards? Or gift certificates?"

"Yes, we have gift cards."

"Super doodie, super doodie."

"We're all the same in different ways."

and the most pertinent of all: "Mondays always ruin the weekend."

P.S. Who all wants a Bassett Hound now?...I do.

* image from http://www.pageonepr.com/blog/tag/monitoring/

Take Two

Personally, I'm a skeptic when it comes to sequels. However, I think yesterday's entry needs a little more attention, a little more TLC.

Yesterday, I didn't speak to A's place in my "spiritual crisis" (a term I've realized is harsh and desperate and negative and so might be part of the problem. So let's call it my "spiritual quandary" instead, shall we?). I met A two years ago, and for the entirety of those two years, he's shown me what a daily spiritual practice is, what living spiritually means. Seriously, this kid has got his faith DOWN. And he's not shy about expressing it or talking about it, because his faith is him; he doesn't see any strangeness or flamboyancy in living faithfully (I know--reason enough to fall in love with the man, right?). But anywho, it's been A's faith that has made me question my own. It's been his daily faith practices (meditation, chanting, and praying) that made me realize I'm out of the loop. I'm missing something. If A can make his faith second-nature, I can get to that point too, right?

So I asked him how he prays. He said, "I thank God for all of my blessings--my health, my family, our relationship. Then I offer my day as a thank you gift. I offer my studies, my interactions with people, my thoughts, everything...in return for what God's given me. And only then do I ask for something...if there's something to ask for." Seriously, I was stunned. He thanks, he offers, and sometimes he asks. Is that not the most fabulous way of praying ever?! I just recently started praying on my drive to work, and I follow A's formula. While it's not a 15 minute sit-down like A's morning routine, I still feel like prayer changes the flavor of the day; I'm more aware perhaps? In-tune? Though I'm still a work-in-progress, I feel like I can work with A's formula and let it grow me. Also, I'm currently reading "Reinventing the Body, Resurrecting the Soul." I'm not that far into it and already I want to recommend it. Along the lines of "A New Earth"--change our consciousnesses and our world will follow suit. Can I count reading as prayer? (hehe).

Before I go, I HAVE to tell you this story (I think I read it on someone else's blog, but I'm not sure whose. So I apologize for the stealing-of-stories). So, this woman who used to work at Starbucks witnessed what she calls "a miracle" one morning. A man was paying for his coffee when he said he'd like to pay for the person behind him, too. That woman then paid for the person behind her. And then that person paid for the person behind him. Apparently this "pay-it-forward" (or backward, technically) lasted for 45 MINUTES! Can you imagine?! Kindness pouring up, out, and over! The only reason the cycle ended is because there were no more people to pay for! Bloody brilliant, I tell you! I adore stories that tout humanity's goodness. I'm sharing this one with everyone...

*image from http://www.imagebase.davidniblack.com/main.php?g2_itemId=3875

Square G-O-D

So, I've been going through a "spiritual crisis" (for lack of better words) for some time now, though I've been unwilling to talk about it, much less write about it. But I think the time has come. As Nat the Fat Rat says, "A thought needs to be aired out loud in order to be set loose, to become real and have its own life, skipping ahead of [us] and becoming plans..." And so here I am letting my "spiritual crisis" become real...

For a couple years now, I've felt slightly off. Since when does an off-day translate as a spiritual crisis? you ask. I'll answer. By "off" I mean disconnected...as in unsure of where my motivations are coming from...as in not knowing if I'm doing things for the right reasons...as in not thinking about the right reasons at all sometimes. It's like I'm missing the point. I feel less good about myself because I'm missing the point. I'm not at peace with who I am and how I got here. And no, this isn't a self-esteem issue, because I KNOW that the reason I'm NOT feeling 100% fulfilled is because I'm not putting effort toward my relationship with God. I KNOW God's the answer, but am too lazy or dim-witted or unwilling to seek Him out. And so I'm stuck in this limbo of knowing the solution to my unhappiness and not doing anything about it. Frustrating really, having only yourself to blame...

But the facts of the matter are:

1) I've not been going to church. While it's a terrible thing to say, I've begun to see church as an inconvenience. While I've not felt something grand at Mass in awhile, that's not necessarily the reason I drifted away. I recently moved to the other side of town and so am too far away from my old parish, yet am too and lazy shy to find a new, nearby parish. Cheap excuses, no?

2) I don't volunteer anymore. I'm too selfish and lazy to donate my time. I seem to think a 9-to-5 job leaves me no spare time, but that's not true now, is it? There are nursing homes, food banks, day cares, and all sorts of other volunteer havens right in my backyard. There is NO excuse for my not reaching out.

3) I'm not even praying everyday. But what hurts my feelings most about not praying is the reason why I'm not--because I don't even think about it; it doesn't cross my mind. As if I don't have plenty to be thankful for! I'm the most blessed that I've ever been! I've got more love in my life than my heart can hold! I'm spilling over with love! And there are plenty of people in my life who need prayers! All these reasons to pray and I'm maintaining my distance...
I so want to blame how I'm feeling on the fact that I'm Catholic (after 16 years of Catholic schooling, I've got GUILT bred into me, folks), and yet I'm sure that's not it (though I DO have issues with some of the Church's more outdated thinkings, but I'll keep those to myself). I've just fallen away and can't seem to get back again. It's like I'm waiting for a spark to ignite a spiritual change in myself, but waiting won't stoke the fire. I need a fire placed directly under my butt is what I need! Anyone with some fiery advice on how to get myself back to square G-O-D? (I know, corny, but aren't all God talks at least a little touchy-feely? I saw the opportunity for corn and had to take it). Or anyone willing to physically kick me in the rear-end? Don't run over each other trying to get to me first ;)


Daily Dose of Dillies: Glass Jars.

I was a tough sell on these at first, but because A is a big proponent of using glass jars for ev-er-y-thing (taking his coffee to school, storing leftovers, storing cold cereal, as water glasses, etc), I knew I'd have to get used to them one way or another. And you know what? 2 years later, I think I've finally seen the light. Just this morning I brought my home-brewed coffee to work in a glass jar and all day I felt practical (like this jar could be used for any number of different things, one of which being its cup ability. Only multi-use items for me!) and alternative (like a student back at Naropa University who's got different ways of doing everything, those ways being earthly and environmentally conscious) and surprisingly down-home (like I'm a housewife out in some rural area without nice china or even a coffee mug and so use jars because, well, I don't care about that fancy and frill business). Not to mention, A put most of our cold cereals in glass jars to make more space in our cupboards. How much do I love opening that cabinet and seeing stacked jars full of variously shaped and colored cereals! And, to be honest, it's easier to pour cereal out of a jar than a box; there's no fussing with that plastic bag that never rips like you want it to, no losing bits of cereal between the bag and the box. And you can see when your Mighty Bites are getting low and need replenishing! And anything that keeps me from running out of my Mighty Bites is a friend of mine :)

Foodie Fetishes

Oh my gosh, I've come across some fabulous food concoctions recently (granted, most involve either cereal or dairy, so I suppose you have to enjoy both to really understand the largesse of my findings)! One is the addition of a frozen Yoplait Triple Berry Smoothie pouch to my oatmeal.  HOLY CRAPOLA! These little pouches contain frozen strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, and (my personal favorite) yogurt pieces! Seriously, it's the most delicious thing ever--the hot oatmeal half-melts the frozen berries and turns the frozen yogurt pieces into soft, creamy bites of goodness. I'm totally obsessed. I've eaten oatmeal 3 times in the last two days and am seriously considering eating it again for dinner tonight. You can find these tasty tidbits in your frozen food aisle. There are 6 or so 2-serving pouches in one big bag, so don't be fooled by the packaging. Go try it, people. (And no, I'm not a Yoplait product representative, though I'm thinking I'd be good at it...)

The second brilliant concoction is mixing together multiple cold cereals. I don't think this is MY idea exactly (I had a roommate in college who let me in on the secret), but I think I've come up with some of the better mixes. Some of  them being: Kashi Go Lean with Lucky Charms and Wheaties; Basic 4 (which is too expensive for ANYONE, and so must be bought on sale) with Kashi Go Lean and Honey Smacks; Grape Nuts with Wheaties and Cheerios. The combinations are endless...and fabulous...so you owe it to yourself to give cereal-mixing a whirl. Parting note on the matter: Kashi Go Lean mixes well with nearly everything, so stock up!

And how about cottage cheese with yogurt! My personal favorite: blueberry yogurt with large curd cottage cheese. Sounds strange...and creepy (lumpy dumpy yogurt can't possibly look appetizing), but it's sooooo good. You try. You like.

And then, just this past Friday, I came across another fabulous food idea! So, every Friday I get me a Starbucks drink on my way to work (a caffeinated and sugary treat to kick off the weekend!). Last Friday, I got me a Dirty Chai Latte (which you should ALSO try, my friends. It's simply a Chai Latte with a shot of espresso in it. Bizarre combination, I know, but totally worth it. "That chai's a-packin!" as I like to say) which was not only leaking out of its paper cup, but got cold before I could finish it. So I skidaddled myself over to the break room where I threw the drink in a fancy mug and nuked it in the microwave. I dunno whether it was the sudden warmth I brought back to my favorite Friday beverage or the fancy mug I threw it in or both, but suddenly my Dirty Chai was the most delicious drink ever! I think the key here is that sipping out of something pretty makes both the drink prettier and the drinker prettier. Try it and tell me it's true for YOU.

Apparently I'm infatuated with food finds (I'll pretend I didn't know this till now)! I'll keep you updated if I come across another....

Daily Dose of Dillies (today's noticing/pondering):
Throw Blankets.

As some of you know (if you've got a friend who lives out West or if you watched the news at all last week), the western states got DUMPED ON! Between 1 and 2 feet of snow at my house! The staircase leading up to our front door looked like a ski-slope! Our backporch looked like a miniature version of the foothills, snow peaking and dipping and rolling into hill-like formations. Trees looked unhappy, their branches drooping and hanging low, weighted with so much snow. However, though it was a pain-in-the-ass-snowstorm in that we had to shovel it, scrape it, trudge in it, and drive in it, it also made for some BEAUTIFUL moments on the couch. I've got me this leaopard faux-fur blanket that's incredibly heavy and wonderful, a knitted cotten throw that's big and stretchy and can wrap around a pair of legs a bajillion times, and a Snuggie (for good measure)! Every night last week, A and I turned on the fireplace, wrapped ourselves up in the blanket of our choosing (though A's 110% against the Snuggie, calling me an old, incapable woman whenever I wear it), and hit the books. I read every magazine in the house, dibble-dabbled on my Kindle, whereupon I promptly napped for an hour or so before actually going upstairs to bed. It was the best week ever. Coziest nights of my life. I can't wait for the next storm to snow me in and chill me to the bones...I gots me the best throw blanket ammo :)

*image from http://i.ehow.com/images/GlobalPhoto/Articles/2268763/oatmeal-main

Petnames and Heirlooms

Can I just take a moment to chat about the fabulousness of petnames? More than ever I've been noticing the nicknames floating around me. For example, Nat the Fat Rat (check out her blog, btw--link is on right side of webpage) has nicknamed her husband "The Holbs." My cousin has nicknamed A's and my future offspring "Ware babies." Somehow I've managed to nickname nearly every one of my friends Paul Rudd style in "I Love you, Man." There's "B-by" and "Greerby" and "cANNEd"...and those are just their most recent namesakes. My brother's been "Camouflage" and "Camshaft" and "Cammy-coo Culkin." What is it about petnames that's so great? It's easy as 1, 2, 3... 1) They imply a familiarity, a closeness, in that only a select few know or understand or feel comfortable calling someone by a nickname. They're connective. 2) They carry more weight than one's "public name" in that there are layers of meaning underlying a nickname--inside jokes, particular memories and/or reasons for that nickname's creation. 3) They can be humorous, doting, impulsive, private--they include tones and emotions a "public name" does not. And last but not least, 4) They're happy-makers. Being called by a nickname or calling someone else by a nickname is fun. It makes us feel like we're fun-loving, word-loving people. Lightens the mood, if you will. With that being said, go out, my nicknameable people, and call each other freely, creatively, and wittily! I believe there's a Paul Rudd in all of us...I love you, Bro Montana. Totally...Totes McGoats.

Also, I'm introducing a new addition to my blog: "Daily Dose of Dillies," which are one-a-day noticings/ponderings... Today's: Heirlooms.

A lot has happened this year, not the least which was my Poppy's death this past July. After his funeral, my Nanny took me into his closet and told me to pick out some of his favorite western shirts. I picked out three that I'd seen him wear--a purple plaid, a white with gold stitching, and a tan with a wheat stalk pattern. They're in my closet now.

After A and I got engaged, all sorts of family heirlooms came out of the woodwork. A's grandparents' porcelain couple statue/wedding cake topper. My parents' wedding cake knife and their ring-bearer pillow...It was actually in search of said pillow that my mom found the peridot rings she wore all through college--peridots the color of shallow water set in 14K gold. She gave them to me, and I'm wearing them right now, in fact :)

And moving into our first house, A's mom gifted us a million heirlooms--A's great-grandpa's childhood rocking chair, her own breadbox from the late 1970s, various old soda pop bottles, vintage Samsonite luggage sets, A's grandma's hand-painted porcelain jewelry tray and some doilies she crocheted herself...to name a few.

The more I see these objects and touch them, the more I understand their worth. It's as A's mom told me (she mostly shops at thrift stores and so brings home and/or gifts other people's stuff a lot)...used objects house their previous owners' presences, their energies (sounds hokey, I know, but I think she's on to something here). And because these objects house energies, she makes sure to welcome them to her home and offers her blessings upon them..."To clear the air," as she says. I think she put into words exactly how I see heirlooms--as relics of people. Getting dressed in the morning, I see Poppy's shirts and smile, nod hello to them. Taking off my jewelry, I finger the paint on A's grandma's porcelain tray and suddenly feel connected to her, like I'm part of that family's lineage now. By placing these objects around my house, I'm inviting their owners' presences into my life. And I like to think that I'm helping keep their energies alive by looking at them, touching them, using them. There's something wonderful about walking into my empty house and feeling like it's full.

Do YOU have any objects that are alive?

*image from britannica.com

An Old-Timey Art Form

I had a phone conversation with a cashier the other day. In the midst of her telling me a story about her daughter and her grandkids, she asked me if I had any kids, myself. I told her no, but that I was getting married this December. The minute I uttered the phrase "getting married," she hoopla-ed and cheered and giggled and congratulated! I've never felt so proud! As if I accomplished something by getting engaged! And I don't even know this woman! Well, not exactly...See, I've been talking to E for months now, calling her multiple times a work week to pay off claims. Sure, sometimes when we both have time, we share bite-sized family-related anecdotes, pasting them into a collage-esque picture of each other's lives, but we've never met face-to-face! She's a 50 something year-old grandma in Washington and I'm a 25 year old fiance in Colorado! And yet, the minute she was done cooing over my "love-life succcess," she asked for my home address. At first I was a little weirded out, wondering why an old lady (don't tell my mom I said 50-something is old), though friendly and though she actually reminds me of my mother, would want my home address. She sensed my tension and proceeded to explain herself...

She said that she has a few good friends whom she's handwritten letters to for years. 3 or 4 penpals she sends a couple letters to each a month. That's nearly 100 handwritten letters a year! She said that she keeps various papers/stationery and pens the colors of the rainbow on hand for just this reason. And that she'd LOVE to send me a wedding letter. A WEDDING LETTER, PEOPLE! I'd never heard of such a thing, which explains why I yelped over the prospect of receiving one in the mail! "Heavens yes you can send me a letter!" I cried. "My home address is..."

Obviously, I have yet to receive E's letter in the mail, but I'm beside myself with anticipation! A WHOLE LETTER! JUST FOR ME! The more I think about it, the more I think it's the handwritten part that's got me excited. Though it's been awhile since I've read something handwritten (besides a thank you card or other such courtesy note), I'm remembering how intimate handwriting seemed. Gives you a glimpse into a person, no? A muddied glimpse, sure, but a knowing and telling one nonetheless.

In high school my best friends and I would write each other 1-2 page notes on looseleaf nearly every other day. We'd draw pictures on them, fold them into fancy shapes...The best thing about those notes was the fact that you could see the emotion in the handwriting (the messy and scribbled meant "I'm rushed and the bell's about to ring;" the big and bold signaled excitement; the perfectly printed meant "I've got all the time in the world to make this as pretty as possible;" etc). I could've guessed where they were when they'd written them, when they'd written them, and how they were feeling when they wrote them, just by their handwriting! Reading into all that "in between the lines" crap got to be second nature. I could've looked at a sample handwriting and told you whose it was. Those handwritten notes were gifts, I tell you! My friends gave up a lot to write them--time, energy, attention. They're a perfect symbol of giving. And up until about a year ago (when I moved for the umpteenth time), I'd kept them all in a box. I couldn't part with them! They were like pieces of my friends! Inside jokes and long-forgotten gossip preserved in our pubsecent handwriting! Just thinking about those notes again makes me nostalgic. Now tell me, can an e-mail do that? (Well, maybe :) a few of my bestest friends e-mail me every week and it's Christmas morning when I see their messages in my inbox. But that messes with my point...). Handwritten notes reveal a deeper giving--a giving of oneself to the task at hand (literally). And being on the receiving end of a handwritten note is something entirely different than simply receiving an e-mail. Holding the note in your hands, turning over the paper, fingering the bite of the inked words in the paper...that person is there with you. And it's beautiful.

Just last week I finished writing a bajillion thank you notes (more like 20, but still) to family members, thanking them for the bridal shower gifts they bought me (I've never gotten so many spatulas in my life!). Though my hand cramped up every 5 minutes, I really enjoyed handwriting them. I'm trying to think of a reason why...or rather the right words to explain why. I think I was SO grateful for my family's generosity, SO enveloped in the love that they showed me, that I couldn't imagine another way of thanking them. Which I think says it all. How does one express the truest and most heartfelt emotions? By writing them out! It's as if handwriting carries a weight with it, a credence. Our handwriting is our stand-in self, the one we entrust with relaying our most private conversations and feelings. So it's no wonder we have an entirely different experience receiving/undertaking a handwritten note! Why are we not exploiting the fantastic-ness of handwriting?! Friends, I'm going to write you letters soon! Handwritten letters! (I know, I know, I'm so good to you). And I might even try folding them into pretty little shapes :) A heart? Comin' at ya! (If I can remember....)

P.S. For those of you who've read every one of my 11 or so blog entries (I know, I know, I'm so prolific ;) ), you'll remember the one about my friend C. Guess who called me last night? Looks like a second chance at friendship, don't it? Maybe I'll write him a handwritten note, too, eh? Keep your fingers crossed...

* image from http://southpaw99.wordpress.com/

In the Vault

Recently, I was out to dinner with a friend of mine and her dad. Catching up on each other, her dad asked me what I was busy writing these days. Simple question, but I felt myself swallowing hard, pursing my lips and tonguing the roof of my mouth in search of an answer...

See, a little more than 3 months ago, I lost my last remaining grandpa. Were my friend's dad to ask me about him, about his passing, I would've been able to answer immediately, "I'm taking it as well as I could...I'm in a good place these days--just going along with the flow, one day at a time...." But the writing question...

What have I been writing lately??? Well, for months I've been trying to write about Poppy and his funeral. For months! And yet I couldn't bring myself to answer the man's question? That's when I realized that I'm not okay. Not actually. Sure I'm capable of being fully-functional in my day-to-day life. I'm happy even. But ask me how writing about the details of my grandpa's funeral is going? Different story.

One of my professors at Naropa said that some stories need "ripening." Some need to be laid in a cardboard box and stored in a dark corner, forgotten about for a few seasons, until they're heavy and juicy with possibilities. Only then will we be able to look at them with new insights and have renewed energy and inspiration with which to write them. Simply, some stories require waiting.

And Poppy's story is one such story. Not just because I'm having difficulty putting my warm, raw, ultrasensitive memories onto cold, standard-cut sheets of blank paper, but because I, too, have to ripen! I'm not ready to write this story--it's too soon, too fresh, and the story's still working its way through me, let alone OUT of me. So it'll have to wait. WE will have to wait. And that's okay. Because when the story does come out, it will be stormy with waiting and so will open up and rain down its sadness on me. And by then, I'll be ready for it. The story that'll leak out of me and onto the paper will have been worth waiting for; experiencing Poppy again will have been worth waiting for...

*image from http://thusbakeszarathustra.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/09/pears.jpg

Quickie

Short and sweet--

I was recently out to dinner with my mom where I decided to practice a little OCD, rearranging the sugar packets on the table so that each brand was grouped together, when I had an idea (though not an original idea, mind you...)! What if I wrote nice messages on a couple of sugar packets for some diner/waiter/waitress down the road to find? While the messages weren't mind-blowing or life-altering (I wrote "You are beautiful" on one and my mom wrote "Love yourself" on another), my mom and I felt good about leaving little bits of anonymous kindness behind. I think I'm gonna make this practice a habit in the future. Maybe sometimes I'll just doodle a picture? Or perhaps throw in a napkin note now and again? The possibilities are fun to imagine, aren't they?

*image from http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/roadshow/tg/images/warholnapkin_01.jpg

UNcreative Rock Bottom

Here I am at work again, blogging away about my "desires to live creatively"...when really, it'd be more honest to say "alleged desires." I haven't felt the "creative spark," the "art bug," the "craft gene" in awhile. And while I want to wholly blame my job--the 9 to 5 that claims me five days a week--I don't necessarily believe it's THE problem. Yes, work HAS become a routine (And how could it not? I'm required to be there at 8 in the morning till 5 in the evening, 5 days a week)--I do the same work everyday for 8 hours. So, naturally, it's hard for me to get up in the morning and get excited for "the expected." But lately it's become a problem (though again, not THE problem. I can blame this winter weather we've been getting in the middle of Fall for my dullness too, right? "I [am] like every kid who [grew] up in the country, allowing the weather--good or bad--to describe life for me: its mocking, its magic, its contradictions, its mood grip. Why not? One [is] helpless before everything."--Lorrie Moore, "A Gate at the Stairs.") I've been so unmotivated that I can't even start an art project to re-enthuse me. For example, last night I thought about flipping through magazines and cutting out pictures and words to make a word collage. But instead, I went to bed at 9PM, too bored and tired to even stay up and watch TV! And it's gotten worse since then! I'm sitting here at work, surfing the Barnes & Noble website for self-improvement books--The Magic of Thinking Big, The War of Art, Wreck This Journal--to get me going again. Self-improvement books, people! I've hit UNcreative rock bottom. SOMETHING'S gotta change.


And I think it's my attitude. Yes, my corporate office surroundings and mundane job tasks are to blame for my lack of motivation...sort of. It's all how you look at it, I know, I know. As A's mom has told me time and again, "Don't see your job as 'work.' Consider it an 'activity.' Let anything and everything you do be an 'activity.' Because then everything you do is on the same plane and nothing is worse or better than anything else. Everything is 'activity.'" It's true, too. When I arrive at my job with the attitude that today is a new day full of opportunity and possibility and that all my actions are simply that--activity--I work differently. At the very least, I work neutrally, without dread, without boredom, without the desire to leave IMMEDIATELY, haha. And at the most, I work positively, with anticipation, with energy, with interest. Changing the flavor of the day is as simple as that, I think. And I haven't been thinking it...


So, as it stands, this is a 2-part operation. Part 1: Change my attitude. My job is an activity. Part 2: While everything is an activity, I still feel the need to incorporate some inspirational or creative activities to, you know, balance the neutral activities ;) Say I read some poetry every day or write a little 5-line creative diddy every day? Speaking of which...


While tonight I fully intend to start that word collage, I read about this OTHER idea in some book awhile back:
A woman took 4x4 square pieces of cardstock paper and each day, took one, wrote the date on it and journaled on it or colored on it or glued paper to it or sewed fabric to it...you get the idea. So each day she was making some kind of a creative record. Talk about an artist's journal! And I remember reading that she specifically picked 4x4 cards because they were just small enough to be a manageable daily art project and yet they were just big enough to feel like an accomplishment. I think I might cut up some cardstock tonight while I'm going at that word collage ;)


*image from laberintodeespejosrotos.blogspot.com

Life IS Art.

I'm starting to feel funny about blogging, because most of the entries I've written discuss art projects I intend to start, emphasis on "intend." Months later, they're projects I STILL have yet to start, haha! My apologies for preaching daily creativity and then not doing it myself...

However, in similar vein with my last entry, I think I've been overlooking life, not paying enough attention to the everyday. Perhaps I should be saying to myself, "You are the artist! You are the master craftsman, shaping your existence from the cradle to the grave. You wield the tools, dream the dreams, see the visions, draw the plans, take the time and do the work in everything you say, and think every moment of the day. As a sculptor takes his raw materials and begins to realize his ideal, as a painter takes his brush and gives form to his creative idea, so in total life you are the artist" (Church of Perfect Liberty website). Perhaps all my life, each of my days, every hour is a work of art? I'd like to think so. For as Anais Nin says, "We don't see things as they are. We see things as we are." I'll admit that I've been wrapped up in me lately, too cloudy-visioned to see that everyday is a stroll in the museum...

And so from here on out, I'm gonna focus. I'm gonna see my pink lemonade, the black straw swirling, rearranging the bubbles on the sides of the tall glass; I'm gonna pay attention to how I make my morning latte--tablespoon after tablespoon of black, finely-ground espresso--the smokey, earthy smell of it--hot water, a large, chunky mug filled 3/4 with espresso and 1/4 milk, creating a creamy, caramel-colored concoction; I'm going to meticulously arrange the food on my plate, each color and texture taking its place in the spotlight (sorry for all the food examples, haha). The point is, I'm gonna see the art in everything that I do, because it's a fact that it's there...I just have to see it. The way my stack of completed work grows over the course of the day, how a lighter stack lies in the bin versus how a heavier stack lies. How the murmur of voices travels overtop of my cubicle walls, merging into one mish-mashed conversation--Cough. / What's the part number? / Let me get you transferred to Roadside. / Don't be calling me up to pay. / Cough. / HAHAHA! / Claims, this is Darrell. How the mirror in my cubicle vibrates when people walk by, shimmering their reflections. The sterile and vacant office breakroom with a microwavable meal at lunch? That'll take some effort on my part, but I'll find the art there, too :) And maybe, just maybe, I'll draw a picture, write a sweet little message, and leave it in a surprise location for A to find. Because life itself is an art project, and I've not been living artistically...

P.S. I can't help myself. Someone on the phone today asked me this random question. It caught me off guard and I didn't know how to answer. But I'm thinking our answers could tell us a lot about ourselves, so here goes: If you won the lottery, what would you do?

My answer: 1. I'd put enough of it in savings to stop working for awhile so that I could focus on actually LIVING. 2. I'd pay off any of mine or my family's loans/outstanding debt (A's med school bills, haha) so that they, too, could focus on just LIVING. 3. I'd donate some money to a local charity/cause so that they could spend more time LIVING instead of fundraising. 4. And, last but not least, I'd travel like I've never traveled before (with tons of family in stow), hitting every continent, and writing a book about our experiences :) LOVING & LIVING AT ITS BEST!

Please post your answer as a comment...

*image from http://www.ilovecoffeebook.com/images/CoffeeART2.jpg

"Who We Are Has Brought Us Here"

I apologize for the tangential entries lately (this one included)...I've been hashing out my personal quandaries instead of exercising daily creativity. Granted, as I'm aplogizing, I'm realizing that life is art's inspiration, so perhaps my "issues" are actually fertile ground? Let's think half-full thoughts on that subject, shall we?

Either way, I'll hurry up and spill what's going on in my life so that we can get back to discussing the whimsies and fancies of ART. So, I have this friend C who I've been friends with since third grade. We've been friends for over 15 years! Though we went to separate high schools and separate colleges, we managed to maintain our friendship via phone calls, e-mails, and occasional hang-outs when both of us were home visiting family. We rocked our "long-distance friendship," I tell you what. And I cherished C for his constancy--he was always there. But 2 years ago, something changed between us. It all started when I decided to go to grad school where C was finishing up his last year of undergrad. I hadn't found a place to live yet and bided my time by shacking up in his living room for a month or so. Long story short, we grew closer (and how could you not in such close quarters?). Outside of class, we were doing everything together--eating meals, partying, hiking, shopping for groceries, going to the gym...But before I could process the dynamic shift in our relationship for myself, his mother took me aside at a dinner party and told me that her son cared deeply about me, loved me even, but was too shy and too scared to tell me himself (which I'm sure I responded to with my best shock face). It was that moment right there where everything changed; I see it now. It not only forced me to acknowledge C's changed feelings for me, but it forced me to make sense of my feelings for C.

But these forced revelations were uninvited, not on my own time, and so the flavor of C's and my situation unintentionally changed. I suddenly felt awkward around C, not sure what to think of these alleged feelings he had for me and his sharing them with his mother. As far as C knew, I was still in the dark. I moved out of his apartment and into my own place. Days went by and he went about things in the same old way, except that I couldn't help obsessing over the fact that he wasn't telling me how he felt. I needed to hear it from him, I needed him to show me, because if he didn't, this gray-zone between friendship and "something else" was gonna wear on me.

Which eventually it did. I started to see C as his old self again, as my long-time friend. I put aside what his mother told me, forgot the details of it even, and focused on what C told me, how he behaved towards me. And we fell back into a friendship.

Which is about the time I met A, my now-fiance :) C had just graduated from undergrad and was traveling around South America, when I suddenly found myself with little to do and no friends to do it with. But A picked up the slack nicely, and as we spent more time together, well...we fell in love--BIG TIME. And a year and half later, we got engaged! I'm the happiest and most fulfilled I've been in my entire life, and all I've wanted is to share my happiness with my long-time friend C. But I haven't seen C for 7 months since I told him my news. 7 months it's taken for me to realize that I'm out. No longer am I in C's field of vision, field of thought, or field of interest. I'm straight up not on his radar anymore. I don't even think we're friends...or at least that's what I make of his deliberate absence in my life. And I'm heartbroken over it. I remember all the years we spent--15 years!--making an effort to stay in each other's lives! And then poof! No more.

But you know what? Despite being sad, sad, sad about losing C as a friend, I can't help admitting that I've lost friends before. C's not the first, and, unfortunately, he's probably not the last. People change and they don't always change together. Sometimes they become different people with different interests, traveling different life paths, and sometimes friends become strangers. This morning, too, reminded me of a life-proven fact: things happen for a reason. As I was driving to work, the words--"who we are has brought us here"--floated out of the radio. I thought to myself, Exactly. I can't blame C for being himself and going his own way, and I can't blame myself, either, for being who I am. I've certainly gone an unexpected path! 2 years ago, I would never have guessed that I'd be getting married! Thinking about the turns we've both taken, it's actually a surprise that we stayed friends for so long, so I should be grateful for our 15 years. I should be able to take a deep breath, turn around, and with a settled heart, continue on my way. Though I don't want to let him walk out of my life, I will, because friends support each other in their life's journeys, they support each other's decisions. I'll let C go because "who we are has brought us here," and I can't regret how far we've come...

*image from http://huisienangel.blogspot.com/2008_08_01_archive.html