3.28.16 Here’s to Aging Myself on Purpose



According to popular belief, Abraham Lincoln is attributed to having said, “There are no bad pictures, that’s just how your face looks sometimes.” If that is true, then crumbs! Because lately I’ve had quite a few pictures of myself where I’ve been like, NO! Do over! A semi-typical girl, even at thirty-three, I have insecurities like most women do … but all I have to do to feel better about myself is go out in public and take a good look around.

I’m not going to lie. Sometimes I wonder if being as awkward as possible has become some kind of international competition that no one invited me to. I am not in the least a “judge a book by it’s cover” kind of person, but I do have to wonder if I’m suddenly taking on the persona of an old lady, looking around at the “fashions” of younger generations. Let me elaborate.  I’m all about vintage, truly. But today I saw a girl who I could have sworn was sixty-years-old, until I saw the twenty-something girl she sat beside. The grandma-esque girl had two, white-string, pearl bracelets, a yellow “frock,” wing-tip dark glasses frames, and a dyed yellow bob that she’d curled to chin length. Then there was the boy who walked in with sand-colored hair so unbelievably poofy, he needed a two-foot diameter of space so as not to bump into anyone. I found myself wondering if they’d spent too much time in front of the mirror or not enough and immediately remembered, “Mirrors don’t lie. Lucky for you they can’t laugh either,” (funnyquotesbook.com).  

The waitress at our favorite cafe (who refuses to smile regardless of … well … anything) sports half-grown out, half-chopped “so-black-its-almost-blue hair.” All I can think is what a lopsided ponytail you must have. When you put your hair in a bun, is it like sporting a 1/2 Princess Leah look? And the masses of girls have gone from wearing leggings under a long shirt to leggings with a short shirt, thus showing off all-together more than anyone ever wanted to see including the brand, style, and color of their underpants. And to think, in the past they thought ankles showing was scandalous. Finally, the ever-present hoodie that is so staple to middle schoolers they’d consider themselves naked without it. Just … eww.  Show that you have a shape beyond amorphous would you?

So it is official … I am turning into an ancient. A “thought-I-was-stylish-but-obviously-don’t-have-a-clue,” old lady whose begun shaking her head at the youths I cannot understand. I guess if what I’ve seen lately is what it takes to be “in-style,” I’m happy to fade into uncool status. Chances are I was never that cool to begin with, and my mirror lied to me as an adolescent, much as I am certain the mirrors are still lying today. 

Go look around, laugh, and let me know if you relate! Here’s to aging myself on purpose!  



3.21.16 So, Yeah … This is About Coffee



Nanea Hoffmann once said, “With enough coffee I feel as though all things are possible. Many of them are highly unlikely, but they are possible.” 

I’ve realized that with coffee, I am a better human. Even after choosing to go decaf, I’m still much … I don’t know … more when I have it as opposed to the shell of a person I become without. There is an element of warmth about my full-to-the-brim cup that soothes my soul to quiet. And when you love something, you should really write a poem to it, don’t you think? Fellow coffee lovers, enjoy … if you don’t love coffee … I don’t know what to say to you.  Stop reading and go seek counseling perhaps!?! 

Just kidding.

(Not really.)


Caramel Latte

Hello delicious

Cozy comfort in a cup

And might I just say you came to me




Just when the sky turned grey

And the wind pushed too far

You became the promise









S   l   o   w   e   d


You are sweet, but not too sweet

Dashed with a flourish of cinnamon

And you taste



Nap feels



S   l   o   w   dance sways



Whisper tells

So, my lipstick prints a kiss on your lid

A blush reminder

of my affection

for you

3.15.16 Impossible Exists




I’ve come to the realization that I am a fool. I am a fool because according to Napoleon Bonaparte, “Impossible is a word to be found only in the dictionary of fools.” And let me tell you, there really are some things that are impossible for me. (Perhaps I am more the fool for taking to heart the words of an ego-tripping dictator, but that is beside today’s point.) Today is about my very obvious reality that impossible does exist, and furthermore, that I need to be okay with it.

The famous sculptor Alberto Giacometti once said, “… the more one works on a picture, the more impossible it becomes to finish it.” I sort of believe he’s right, only metaphorically. The picture is my life, and the more I work on its “image,” the more distorted, and imperfect it becomes. I think at times I’ve made it seem to those around me (spatially and virtually) that, to quote The Lego Movie, “Everything is awesome,” but you know what – sometimes it isn’t – not at all! I’m the farthest thing from “together” and I’m finding more and more that it may not be the worst thing to admit it. So, here it is … my own personal list of impossible, to which I hope you can relate.

  • It is impossible to have days where I do not have fantasies about smashing my alarm clock to smithereens and sleeping as long as I very un-practically want to.
  • It is impossible to feel good about myself when pulling on “skinny” jeans, especially if they were just washed (making them even skinnier), or right after a shower when the friction between my skin and the denim is enough to light a small fire.
  • It is impossible to ever, EVER finish laundry … you know why? Because someone in my family is always wearing clothes!!! When people tell me they “caught up” on their laundry, I kind of have to hate them for three seconds (just three, I’m not very spiteful) because the words “I’m done,” will never be uttered from my mouth!
  • It is impossible to not feel embarrassed when you have guests over and your cat uses the litter box, creating such an atmospheric shift that everyone is temporarily gagging as you run to remedy the nasal assault.
  • It is impossible to stay calm when I find socks stashed in the most remote corners of our living room, like a disgusting game of hide-and-seek I didn’t sign up for.
  • It is impossible not to feel frustrated when my kids’ piano teacher explains the homework to me weekly (yet again) like I’ll get it, when I cannot play myself.
  • It is impossible not to be tempted to let my daughter grow dread locks when I know that she will cry every single time I brush out her hair.
  • It is impossible to get anything useful accomplished when your kids are: hungry, tired, grumpy, excited, confused, sad, wired … scratch that. It is impossible to get anything useful accomplished when your kids are awake!

While there are many more negative impossibilities to relay, I’ve also come across a few impossibilities on the other end of the spectrum that I cannot help but share.

  • It is impossible not to laugh when my son asked why girls have big “pom poms,” and boys don’t have any.
  • It is impossible not to giggle when my husband pretends to be a giant for my kids, “Fe-Fi-Fo-Fumming” around the house.
  • It is impossible not to love that my daughter has created a back up plan to her first career ambition of mermaid.
  • It is impossible to pretend I’m not geeking-out every time my mom sends me freshly baked treats, express mailed so they’re not even a day old.
  • It is impossible for me not to light up when I reminisce all the, “I can’t believe the time we …” with friends who have walked the ages with.
  • It is impossible not to feel amazing when someone smiles at you for the simple reason that you’re you, and you’re there.
  • It is impossible not to feel joy when you hear your children pray for real … like they readily expect God to answer – and he does.

And while there are many, many things that aggravate, irritate, and annoy me about my life, in the words of Whitney Huston when she played fairy godmother in Cinderella, “Impossible things are happening everyday.” Some of them are good … some of them are not, but for better or worse, impossible exists, and I’m glad.


3.8.16 Just for the Sake of Lovely



“I’m slowing down the tune, I never liked it fast. You want to get there soon, I want to get there last.” – Leonard Cohen

So I live my life mostly chasing time.  I think somewhere between college and marriage and career and kids somehow the remote control of my fate seems to have gotten stuck on fast-forward and I cannot (for all I might want to) get the pause button to work.  Even on days off, I am over-committed with “meetings” and “have-to’s” and “I can’t believe I almost forgot abouts.”  And it’s alright.  But sometimes, like the quote above, “I want to get there last.”  I want to intentionally dawdle … waste time … or just be in the midst of it all. 

You can ask my parents, I’ve never been in a hurry to grow up.  Even going through childhood I would sometimes pause and think to myself, “This is going too fast.” Foolishly I’d try to force myself to be young, but we cannot stop it … inevitably something happens to remind us of our place – of our time.  I can’t  lessen the speed of days, but that doesn’t mean I have to accept it.  Not really. 

Instead, I’ve found ways to cope, by surrounding myself with bits of choices that refuse to run along with the responsibilities of my schedule.  They tug at the corners of my day to make me play just a little.  These choices are my illusion of slow … of stillness, and I add them incrementally (so life can’t catch me).  

So today I wore a skirt of tule, and when I slid into the car, I needed to pause to scoop up the bunches of fabric carefully, reminding me of my wedding day, and I smiled.

I wore pink ballet flats with sparkles, and when someone told me I looked like a fairy, I shared that it is my utmost wish to be one.  

The wind tickled around me, pushing stray strands of blonde about my face, and I relished in nature’s tiny game of chase.  

And when no one was looking, I let myself twirl … just for the sake of lovely. 




2.29.16 Maybe Cool is Overrated



“Totally mad. Utter nonsense. But we’ll do it because it’s brilliant nonsense.” Douglas Noel Adams

 All I can say is, I’m going to assume Adams was talking about parenting here. It is nonsense. It’s totally mad. And half of the time, in the midst of it all, (whatever brand “it all” decided to be that day) I still feel like asking myself, “How did this happen?”

 I don’t mean this as in where did they come from, but this as in how in the heck did I get so far off point?!? How is there a sock there? How is that what you thought I meant? How is the cat choking on a pencil? How did the dog get peanut butter on her? How did that coat get that stain? How did your retainer end up in the recycling bin? How? How? How?

 I’m not going to lie … I have a great many goals in my life, but one of my utmost is to be a “cool” parent. Let me offer a little disclaimer here; I do not equate “cool” with “easy.” I believe in high expectations and being a parent before being a friend – but I still dream of a day when my kids say to their friends, “It’s all good … my mom’s cool.”

 Well, life’s a fickle friend because try as I might to up my cool factor, something inevitably happens that horribly screws it up. And still I try … but fail. Here’s a little bit of what I mean: 

Cool: I let my kids have a friend over on a whim, unplanned even!

Uncool: Said friend takes the opportunity to tell me that two out of our three bathrooms have, “un-flushed toilets” and that, “one of them is poop!”

Try But Fail: I thank the kid, and we end up having a need-to-remember-to-flush discussion.

 Cool: I invite their favorite sitter to take them to school.

Uncool: They (including the awesome sitter) find a run-over dead mouse in the garage on the way to the car.

Try But Fail: I decide to “man up” and remove the mouse myself since my husband was out of town, and my kids remind me to “use double gloves and a garbage bag” and leave me outside to clean up.

Cool: I say we can have a family sleepover and cozy-up since daddy’s away, and “Sure you can have another juice since your throat hurts.”

Uncool: Finding out that apparently mom’s bed isn’t immune from an accident after someone small was drinking too much before bed.

Try But Fail: I respond, “It’s alright. It happens.” And child responds, “Maybe I’ll just sleep in my own bed tonight.” Mhmmm. I see how it is.

Cool: I decide to drop everything and play dolls with my daughter.

Uncool: It has been WAY too long since I played dolls and every single one of them is sporting a prominent row of dreadlocks.

Try But Fail: I decide to use the miniature barber chair seriously and give one of the  dolls a new do! Unfortunately, that was a big don’t as my daughter cried that her hair was too short and ruined … she is now reduced to wearing tiny hats.

 And on and on the battle wages. I try, I fail, I try again. There is an unknown quote that says, “You are making it difficult for me to be the parent I always imagined I’d be.” Ah, well. I’m going to hope that maybe cool is overrated after all.