Reasons I haven't been blogging this week:

(I have a list)

-I feel like I'm wasting part of who I am by not writing something bigger.
-I hate that I can't post pictures and I'm just loading you all up with heavy text.
-Last weekend feels like too much to capture, and I'd hate to do it without photos.
-I really like life right now, and I like living it more than describing it.
-I work at an office that provides very few opportunities in the day to blog.
-In the evenings, I have better things to do than blog.
-In the mornings, if I get out of bed in time, I know I should run rather than sit at a computer for any more  time than I already do all day long..

But I hope to get back to writing a bit more artistic work soon. 

Camping was fantastic.  It was so refreshing to be outdoors, and to be there with a group of people who are kind and funny and up for shenanigans.  It's what I needed. It was like dumping a bucket of cold water onto my life... made me feel my hands and fingers, made my toes tingle.  Made me taste a bit of adventure and remember what it's like to take a risk.  Be it running around a fort at night, climbing the face of a mountain, or opening my heart a bit more.  I'm grateful for those people.  I'm also grateful I got to check off one more of my 25 goals for the year.  I have a lot more to go!

"The heavier eyelids, the sincerer the words." 

If I weren't camping,

I'd be at the High Dive tonight at 8pm. 

No lie. 

Jamestown Revival - worth a lot more than you'll be paying.

But seriously, saw them last night. Fell in love. Would be there again tonight if I could. They were fantastic performers on all levels. Their voices are so distinct and yet meld together beautifully (the EP doesn't fully capture it). The 15 years of friendship defines the easy flow of the music they write and the banter of stories they weave throughout. They stood at the door to make sure they met each of us on our way out, shaking hands, repeating names and cementing the impression they'd made on each of us. I'll be preordering the CD and following the tour stops closely. Do yourself a favor and go listen tonight. They describe their music as "Indie-Rock with a Southern slant" but there's a bit of soul in there too and the tiniest of folk with a bit of bite. I don't know.  The guys are great.  I'm hooked.  Just go.

Disclaimer: I can't listen to this video right now to see if it's the best to post or not. All the songs they played last night were written in the last 12 months, and most of my favorites so recent they probably aren't on the web to be found.

This is how the weekend has begun:  I locked my keys (all my keys) in my bedroom.  With all my camping gear and food and coolers in my car.  The typical hid spare was nowhere to be found.  And the two people who have keys to my room... were almost to Spokane.  Thankfully, I'd completely packed my car up, and I really didn't need to get back in to my room... if I could drive my car. 

And someone had decided to have a spare key made for me two weeks ago.  That's right.  After making them drive across town to bring me said spare key (and a coffee for the win), I made it to work just now, a little before noon. 

For being one of the earliest mornings I've woken up to get to work, it's slightly surprising that this is the latest I've made it in to work.  I'm really not complaining, a beautiful morning on the porchswing was a definite surprise blessing. :)  In fact, probably a favorite work Friday morning.  And now, there's only 5 and a half more hours to go.

Last night we baked and prepped food for the camping trip.  I fell asleep on the kitchen banquette around midnight and woke up to a plate full of cookies and a kitchen of clean dishes (after hearing tid bits of some interesting conversation - leave guys "alone" in the kitchen and it's bound to happen).  I switched my final load of laundry and went straight to bed.  I still have yet to check out the tents, grab chairs, or pack, but I kind of don't care.  lol.  More than preparing any of the meals last night, we made ridiculous amounts of treats (pumpkin bread, cookies and muddy buddies!), sipped wine, and laughed. And that was more than enough to "prepare" me for the weekend.  This is going to be a fantastic time.  And I think we'll be more than well fed. 

PS - This weekend I get to check off one of the 25 Goals. :)

I am going camping this weekend with a big ol' group of people.  I'm not even sure I know all of them, but the core is some Blueberries.  Erik and I volunteered to handle food for a few of us.  (Or, did I volunteer Erik and I to handle food?  :/  Sorry, Erik.)  Thanks to my amazing older sis, Kim, I am set.  She and Jason organize a camping trip for the community group each year and so I assumed she'd be a great resource camping food ideas.  (When is she not a good resource when it comes to cooking?!)  But my expectations were blown away when she emailed me her previous camping list, with a complete breakdown of meals, drinks, supplies and gear.  I don't really know what I'd be doing without her, since I also realized yesterday that I had left myself one evening to shop, prep food (with Erik, thankfully), do laundry, find my gear, and pack! That would be tonight, after work. 

I could not be more excited.  Okay. Yes, I could.  I would be more excited if Meg would email me back, "I am coming too!" But, besides that, I could not be more excited.  We have our menu all picked out - some from Kim, some of our own ideas.  We have our shopping list.  And our drink requests (what, did you thionk we were handling food for free?  Oh no, we're adapting to someone's Bartering life-style).  The two other guys we're covering food for arrived last year at the camping trip with a thing of peanut butter, a head of lettuce and two snuggies. So, we don't have much to live up to. ;)  But even if we did, I think we'd still surpass the expectations.  I hope. 

The real issue I've spent most of my time considering:  What book(s) should I bring?  I'm still halfway through HP5.  It is such a big book that I don't cart it around - I only read it at home.  I also began Everything Beautiful Began After, which is my smaller "bus book."  AND, I need to have read the first 500 pages of The Count of Monte Cristo by next Thursday.... which I haven't even picked up yet.

December is going to be like Christmas for lit nerds!  (oh wait.)

(see what I did there?)


Seriously though, The Great Gatsby and Les Miserables will be hitting theatres - two fantastic novels, discovering two of my favorite time periods!!

Gatsby has an incredible cast, one of my favorite directors, and the sound track sounds awesome if I can judge by this one song.  My first impression is Million Dollar Hotel + The Dark Knight + Classic Literature.  And I must say, I like it.



Then, it's the musical film version of Les Mis that all of our hopes are riding on.  Do us proud.  Please.

Oh December, how we are waiting for you in all our literary frenzies.  I think I'll go listen to Flapper Girl now.  I feel like diamonds and gin, red wine and cannons. (No sense? Kind of. But there's a few of you that are saying, That's exactly right. That's exactly how I feel too.  And to you, I raise my ebenezer.)

[I was informed last week that I've hit my photo limit.  Really.  I can't post any pictures until I sort a few things out with Blogger.  In case you were wondering why suddenly I've been so script-heavy. ]

One of my favorite women, in the news. 

She truly is one of the exceptional few.  I highly admire this woman. 

(ahem, Katie Ruff, if you didn't know.)

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When Love Fails

Why do we think love ends?  Is it just me?  I've been thinking about this a good deal lately, and I think it's more than just me that struggles with an underlying expectation that at some end, love ends.  It fails.  I might be so bold as to count it something our generation in general carries.  I don't know if it's because we've seen our friend's parents go from in-love to suddenly in separate homes, or maybe our own parents.  Or maybe it's a dozen other reasons.  But something happened that made us terrified of making a commitment, and finding that love fails.  And we know that we can't control it or prevent it for certain.  We can't determine what someone else will choose in 20 years.  And what if they choose to walk away.  What if they don't even want to, but love just fails. 

I don't really have an answer.  I know I won't let go of love.  But I also know I'll never be able to choose for someone else - and that's for best.  Love requires choice.  It's at the core of why Father created us with a choice- we can choose him.  Or we can choose to walk away. That's what makes love matter I think.  It's what makes trust matter too.  And I suppose, it's beautiful. That day after day, we get to choose.  And we get to be chosen. We get to trust, love, give, receive, and forgive.

But beyond that, I know as a fact that love doesn't fail.  I'm sitting here at work, and suddenly Drew Halcomb's Love Will Bring You Home came on and made me recognize the very fact that I have been assuming love can fail.  How can I?  We can fail at love, but love cannot fail. And it cannot end. 

If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing.

Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
Love never ends. As for prophecies, they will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when the perfect comes, the partial will pass away. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I gave up childish ways. For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.
So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.

(1 Corinthians 13 ESV)

I love the power of scripture to just sweep away the chaff, clear away lies and confusion and remind us of what is always true.  I want to always believe in love.  And believe that love is for always.  In the depths of my mind, heart, spirit and soul.  I did once, and I will again, for always.  I refuse to believe the mess around me more than the Spirit within me.

Luke 1 might be one of the greatest chapters in the Bible. 
Just saying.

“My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has looked on the humble estate of his servant.
For behold, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
for he who is mighty has done great things for me,
and holy is his name.
And his mercy is for those who fear him
from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with his arm;
he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts;
he has brought down the mighty from their thrones
and exalted those of humble estate;
he has filled the hungry with good things,
and the rich he has sent away empty.
He has helped his servant Israel,
in remembrance of his mercy,
as he spoke to our fathers,
to Abraham and to his offspring forever.”
 (Luke 1:46-55 ESV).

"For such a quiet girl, who walked to school every day across soft fields, her red hair as wild as blowing leaves - to love without fear would be to drown in another person."

- Simon Van Booy, Everything Beautiful Began After

.

If you don't know her, you've at least heard me mention "T" on here a dozen times.  I first met her probably 3 or 4 years ago now.  She seemed at first like she didn't really want to be my friend.  Probably because she was being brought in to help my Starbucks store and wasn't exactly supposed to be my friend.  Or maybe, she just didn't want to be my friend.  Well, that didn't last long, because I decided I wanted to be hers.  And within a few months we were having tea dates and zoo days and sing-a-longs at 4am in a dark empty store.  I love this woman deeply.  People call one another "faithful" pretty lightly sometimes - but Theresa really is faithful, in all that that means.  She loves deeply.  She works harder than almost anyone I know.  And though I've known her for years, and would say I know her pretty well, she's still quite the freaking mystery to me.  She is always a better friend to me than I deserve, and I constantly wish I were a better friend back to her.  She's one of few people that I sometimes want to beat other people up for, which is odd, since she could probably do a much better job herself.... okay, not probably. She could.  And she's strong and will say what needs to be said, but still I find myself wanting to protect her, because she's amazing!!!! And she's understated.  And as I said, she's a mystery I still don't fully get.  But I love that.  I love how she can continually surprise me.  I love that she will join any random group situation I bring her in to, and she may agree or disagree, but she'll be there and she'll be finding gold in people and making new friends, and remembering crazy details and names like I never can.  She will do what needs to be done, and yet at the same time, she's wild. Kind of. :)

That said, today is T's birthday and I'm hoping it is special.  I know she's probably working, and she's saying it's not a big deal.  But it is.  And she's pretty darn remarkable and I hope she gets celebrated by everyone who knows her and loves her.  Happy Birthday, Magician.  Let's see the elephants soon! Miss you and thinking of how blessed I've been by our years of friendship.  You constantly encourage and challenge me by being the woman you are. Love you!


Signed,
Bunny. ;)

"Boys and girls in America have such a sad time together; sophistication demands that they submit to sex immediately without proper preliminary talk. 

Not courting talk - real straight talk about souls, for life is holy and every moment is precious."

-Kerouac, On the Road

8/25

Often times I don't bother with writing reviews of the books I've finished and counted up here.  But I've been looking forward to commenting on my current read for several weeks now.  Esther first told me about A Moveable Feast at least a year ago.  I'd read two other collections of Hemingway's short stories and while I certainly learned a great deal from his style and his voice, I wasn't incredibly eager to dig in to more.  However, her experience with A Moveable Feast sounded so different from Men Without Women and In Our Time, I thought I'd give it a try. 

The formatting is something between a collection of short stories and a chapter in an autobiography, tracing Hemingway and his first wife, Hadley through the streets of Paris to the flats of Sylvia Plath, TS Eliot, and the Fitzgeralds.  Peeking in to the secret artistic community of writers and artists in the 1920s in Paris captured me in every way, and Hemingway's typically heartbreaking story telling and haunting descriptions left me aching for all that was built and eventually all that would be lost.  Friendship, community, hard work and love amidst the City of Lights - he praised what was faithful and beautiful and honest over what was rich and easy and cleaned up pretty.  And he did it in a way that no one but Hemingway could.  I couldn't be more grateful that Esther slipped this treasure into my hands.  And I don't think I could walk away from any other book as ready to feast on and starve for true art and community. 

A couple weekends ago I was lucky enough to spend Sunday in Fremont, wandering the Sunday market and shops.  Someone was having a garage sale of sorts and we'd only crossed the street before having our arms so full we had to turn around and drop it all off before going any further.  He was selling small dark wood shelves for $1 each.  They have these metal pieces on the back that I'm assuming will be easy to find a mounting for the wall, but I'm not actually sure.  But last night, in my dream, I found them quite easily at Home Depot. 

I'm wondering just how odd it is that A.) I dream about Home Depot, and wall mountings and flowers and antique colored stones.  and B.) Home Depot makes me think of my mom more than almost any other place.  I ran in last weekend in search of one specific item I was sure I could find there, and as I turned down all the Can I help you's and puzzled looks and marched right to where I needed, I suddenly felt so close to Mumsy.  It's not just the flower section either.  Over the years, I've been dragged through those darn lighting aisles for hours.  When I decided to do some minor updates to my bathroom, my mom and I picked out the shower knobs, we bought the lumber and paint there, we've bought carpet, linoleum, patio stuff, more lumber, and more lumber, caulking, sandpaper, pipes and all sorts of products for the yard, the house, and who knows what else.  I've hated it at times and loved it at others, but regardless I don't know any girls that have ever been drug through more garden, home repair stores and lumber yards than my sisters and me by our dear mom. 

This isn't complaining. This is praising, if you've missed it.  While I know the danger I stand in, projects amassing down my hallway, I love that my mom raised us this way.  I love that I fully believe, "I can make that."  And that I know what aisle the supplies are in.... or at least, what number to call to find out what supplies I'll need and what aisle they are in. ;)

I came home last weekend with gardening gloves.  When I showed them to my mom she responded, "What are those for?"  "They're gardening gloves, mom." "I know. But what are you going to do with them?"  "Garden."  "Where?"  "I was thinking, here?"  She wasn't trying to be rude.  My mom doesn't use gloves.  She likes her hands in the dirt.  It's good for your nails, she says.  She's also yet to see me not give up on gardening upon the first spider spotted.  We will see.  :/  I really love having a garden, and I feel my mom is probably one of the greatest gardeners around - so why would I possibly not be learning the trade from her?  Right? 

I was walking down the street last week on a sunny day, naming to myself each flower as I passed it.  Wondering at some.  This turned into an alphabet game of sorts: Azaleas, Bachelor's Buttons, Crocuses, Dahlias, etc.  I know plenty of flowers and can name them on sight, thanks to years of looking at an amazing garden, and carrying way to many plants through the Eagle parking lot.  I've watered the gardens for years, I know how many seconds to count to for rose bushes, and hedges.  I've mowed the lawn hundreds of times.  But actual gardening?  I haven't done that since I was probably 10. 

Oh Lord, keep the spiders at bay. :/

I went swing dancing last night with some Blueberries (thank you again Erik for planning that!) and it was fantastic.  I've done very little swing dancing in the last few years and I'd forgotten how fun it is.  In fact, I have been doing West Coast all along (except for when dancing with my mom, who always turned everything into triple steps lol) and have had trouble adjusting to East Coast and Lindy, but I want to learn both soooo bad. Especially Lindy.  Suffice to say, I was out until almost 2am, and up by 6:30am. And I would be whining, except I was greeted by one of the most delicious iced vanilla lattes from my definite favorite coffee shop, made by arguably the greatest barista in the state, and delivered by one of the greatest people I know.  I have a surprise at lunch that I can hardly wait for, and tonight is Blueberries night.  I am sure I will be hurting a bit at points, but I am so beyond happy about this day. 

In other news, I'm in a wedding at the end of June and another in the start of August.  And naturally, I'm a girl, and would like to look my finest for it.  I've also had a dangerous run lately with carbs, cookies, and some truly fine cocktails.  Add to that some injuries that kept me from the gym for a month and..... there is work to be done.  (Shut your mouths and keep your comments to yourselves.)  It isn't easy work though when your sister starts your day with emails about incredible pastries and desserts she's been making for small group and entire photo montages of what she's going to try next, with delicious descriptive words that put English majors in sugar crazes.

And lastly, I just spotted this photo on Facebook this morning.  It has been far too long since I've cuddled this doll.  Her mom and dad have both celebrated another birthday. And she's definitely grown an inch at least.  I hate seeing her as rarely as I do!  :(  Auri Bliss I miss your crazy dancing and giggles bunches!

Please.....?

This is exactly the puppy I want.

Kay, I call first dibs on your first green eyed little chocolate lab.

(If I don't get one before then!)

Oh yeah, and your best friend Kate H. said she wants one too. ;)

I want a green pod. 

Really. 

How cool are these?  You can have one delivered to any city in Washington.

This model is the Waterhaus.

I'm going camping next weekend. :)

I'll be checking one more goal off the list.

I just saw an add for "Bachelors in Photography."  I thought, that's an odd way to spin single men? Into photography?  :/  OH.  : .   Happy Monday.

Last weekend I went canoeing in the arboretum.  It's been a long time coming, and it was perfect.  (And, I left my phone so I had not one picture.)  Also, the terrarium happened (Esther, Kate).  According to the fellas, it's now more of a tropical fight scene.  One of the plants had already died and we needed a filler.  Raphael stepped in.  It's cool, seems more manly this way, right? 

This morning's current work conversation:
Girl: "My brother had the dolls."
Guy: "I didn't have the dolls; I had the action figures."
Girl: "Oh that's what I meant, the action figures."
Other Guy: "Action figures are not dolls." *indignant tone*
Guy: "If I throw a doll at your face, is it supposed to hurt?" *more manly indignant tones*

As I said, Happy Monday!!

Hurry up 5:30!

Now that lunch is over, I am so ready for the work day to end!  I need to be in the weekend.  I need to be in the sunshine already!  An hour in the sun was just enough to make me want more!

From Southern Nomad. 

I love this! And I love that she entitled it "Risk". 

Happy Friday!

I think this is going to be one of my favorite weekends.  It already is.  Busy as all get out, but beautiful and filled with a dozen (or two) wonderful moments.  From coffee, to Toni Time, to kayaking, to the beer- I mean tea garden, from meeting new friends to spending quality time with family and the oldest of friends. From new adventures (long waited for!) to old favorite places and ways to spend the day. 

Happy Birthday to Lou Lou & my LB!

Today is my first best friend's 26th birthday!  Lou Lou has been there for me since before either of us ever had a choice, a step, or a breath.  I treasure the card her parents gave to mine when they first came to visit Kelly baby #3 in the hospital.  Almost every Sunday evening Aunt Ivy & Uncle John wander through the neighborhood to our house and spend hours drinking wine and laughing with my parents.  I love it - because I love them, and I love how much they love my parents, and my parents them, but also because I love looking at what I might someday have with their sweet daughter Elise.  She's become such an amazing wife and great mom.  She's always at ease, or so it seems to me.  Nothing is a competition to her - which is amazing for me as you can guess.  She was once my buddy who suggested skinny dipping and picked roller coasters.  The girl who always felt it was the right night for "Truth or Dare" - even the five and six and seven year old who would watch E.T. with me and then run out into the dark and stare at the woods as long as we could before one of us would scare and run back inside. (There was a stump at the bottom of the hill into the woods that looked exactly like ET!) I got her grounded for rolling around in the dirt pile on a dare.  She's the only person who's ever slapped me across the face.  She was back at my door apologizing a few hours later and the playing picked right back up.  We spent weeks over summer at her grandparents.  Went camping together in high school.  Played basketball together.  Passed notes back and forth right in front of the teacher for years ("Hey, can I borrow your black pen?").  We had countless nicknames. We wrote our first poetry by the same creek. Spent almost every single day and evening together from 4 to 18.  When she first got her license, we'd cruise to O.O. Denny in her parents old Buick, windows down and Counting Crows or Michael Buble flowing through the speakers. 

Now, it's more like monthly get-togethers, but there's nothing like the spot that a childhood best friend holds in your heart - you knew each other through the best and the worst and the dirtiest summer days. You learned to walk, bike, rollerblade and drive together and along the way, you learned how to learn from each other.  Lou Lou, I'm constantly learning from you: how to be gracious and unconcerned about yourself, how to be kind, wise, and still fun.  How to be a great cook, an even greater hostess, and the best of wives and moms.  I love having you as my first and forever best friend!

And to my LB, I just keep thinking about this time last year - and how everything has changed since then.  And yet, nothing has.  You are such an incredible woman.  I hope this entire year is full of the most incredible moments and thoughts and of course, songs!  I love your story.  I love how the Lord moved you and joined you and set your heart on fire.  I've loved our adventures together - at Home Depots and mountain tops!  I'll be your Listening Buddy anywhere.  You're real and true and beautiful, and you could make me laugh for hours!

One of my goals for this year was to write a short story every week.  I knew this was ridiculously ambitious, seeing as I've probably written less than five complete short stories in my life.  But I wanted to go at it hard.  And I did.  For three weeks. 

It's had me thinking though, there's a certain power that someone truly believing in you can bring. As a writer, it's those who have read your work, even just pieces and call it good.  And not just that, but somehow actually believe that you will accomplish what you've hoped to - what you've set out to. 

There a small handful of those people in my life and they mean the world to me.  But, I think there also grows to be a certain stagnation, where they've been waiting to see you do it and haven't yet, that they stop expecting it right now.  They still think it will happen one day, just as much as you do, if not more.  But there isn't the same sense of excitement and expectation.

But when someone has first begun to believe in you - it's like a charge.  And I'm realizing it's a charge I don't want to waste.  I want to do something worthwhile while the expectation is still in the air - before like all the others - they've come to know the wait. The long wait.  The not right now wait. Before they become part of the someday believers, I want to write something beautiful and make it matter.

I want one.  But a lab. :)

Dresses.

How I love thee.

(For a few hours.)

Have you noticed how many amazing dresses are around right now?!

I miss my sister's eyes.  I actually miss all of her.  Can't wait until I get to see her.  She is such a beautiful woman.  I've learned a lot from her - watching her fight for what others may never have to.  Learning that courage is more often a moment by moment choice than a one-time action. Sometimes, it's just not letting your heart give up.  And more often than not, our greatest battles are never known by others, and often misread.  I love who my sister is.  I love how she never gives up. I love how she continues to allow the Lord to transform her, and her husband to challenge her, and her family to know her.

Have I said it here before, I hope at least one of my children has eyes like hers. I suppose I have. Oh well, I hope they do. :)

Yeah, I know that's not my sister - I'm assuming you were able to make the connection - I saw this photo this morning and Kate Bosworth always makes me think of my oldest sis. :)

I like having friends that I can really just be me with - no keeping up appearances or worrying about what they aren't saying. I love that I have friends who will wander antique stores with me and get as wildly excited over little old story-keepers as I do. That we can cut each other off and pick back up and turn around and run back and race forward a dozen times over in one hour.  I love that sunshine is enough for us.  And coffee is better. And conversation is inevitable. And laughter is irresistible, if not also inexplicable.

Summer has come to mean Tennessee for me.  Nearly every summer since high school graduation has brought a trip to Nashville.  Days like today, where the sun starts to pour through the windows like the country music pouring through my headphones, my heart starts to wish for those back roads and green hills.  Knowing that two of my very good friends are currently there, sipping coffee at Crema and filling up on sweet tea and pulled pork and fried corn just makes it that much worse. 

Every trip to Tennessee reminds me who I am, and seems to remind me where I am.  I come home from each visit so much more comfortable in my identity, more confident.  Something about their air puts me at ease with life and all its uncertainties, struggles, and blessings.  It's just a place I love.  And of course, it's home to two of the most special people in my life. 

It's as if every trip I'm spending quality time with three people I love:  Kimberly, Jason, and Tennessee.  My heart needs each of them.  And I'll be eagerly awaiting whenever I next get to visit.

PC: Adam Carpenter

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Today's fortune cookie. 

 (Well, one of them.)



say whats true.

.

It's a Joshua Radin sort of day.

Am I right, Kay?

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7/25

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I have this strange affinity to things I can eat from the yard.  Not just tomatoes carrots and other things gardeners typically grow in their vegetable garden.  No, as a kid, my mom showed me a number of plants I could and could not put in my mouth.  Why? I don't really remember, but it probably had something to do with all the "salads" Elise and I would make for Tyson and Robert to "eat" - you know, the magically healing kind that restores great warriors from deadly battle wounds. 

Whatever the reason was, I learned that foxglove (the bell-like flowers scattered around the borders of our house in purple spotted hues) can stop your heart, pansies are safe as a piece of lettuce.  Rose petals are fine. Mint, obviously, just rinse and chew.  Somehow this came up in conversation last weekend, and I proceeded to make Meg share a pansy with me. 

Of course, I love picking rosemary, mint, basil, tomatoes and the array of other greens we've planted over the years too.  There is just something lovely about gathering from your own garden and tossing it in a salad, or on a cake, or in a tea.  That is why this weekend, I am definitely hoping to sneak away to the May Edible Plant Sale. 

Come to our May Edible Plant Sale and take advantage of the largest selection of organically, sustainably and locally grown vegetable plant starts in the Puget Sound region. The May Edible Plant Sale is FREE and takes place on Sat. and Sun., May 5 and 6, 9 a.m.-3 p.m at Meridian Park (4649 Sunnyside Ave. N, Seattle 98103). 

If any of you have been considering home brewing, it's also a great spot to pick up some hops (says the office home-brewer who shared this event with me). ;) 

"Wisely and slow, they stumble that run fast." 

-W. Shakespeare, Romeo & Juliet, 2.3 

. 

(If you find where this dress exists in real life - please tell me.)

My Milk Shoes.

;)

Word. 

Though, I assume there's quite a balance.

(Kristin, I really want to make a comment about who was taking photos and cutting off people's heads intentionally YEARS ago... but I won't. Just want you to note it.)

I really want to road trip across the US again.  Just one car though this time.  Stop all along the way and see the places where my heart rests - Montana, North Dakota, Colorado, Oklahoma, and of course Tennessee.  I want to camp at Yosemite and see the Grand Canyon and that old Lady Liberty.  I want to finally visit North Carolina, eat crab or lobster in some tiny town on the Eastern coast, drive down countless roads that wind from place I don't know to place I don't know yet. 

This morning, I'm mostly not awake, I'm sipping caffeine with a desperate look in my eye, and for some reason, I can't stop thinking about seeing the edges of my own little world called the USA.

I want to post about some things I don't like right now.  But, it's too easy to post about what we don't like, and too common in blogging.  So right now, I'm going to post about something I've been thinking a lot about the last couple weeks.  Something I do like.

I like being challenged by the way another person lives.  I like going home and pulling out my bible to look something up, search something out.  I like getting up and pulling out my bible because I'm getting hungry for it.  Or because, I know I need it.  I like remembering that I need to be more generous.  And though I hate that feeling in my stomach that comes with realizing I'm not living up to what I once did, or wish I would, I also love that that feeling is there.  Praise God for being convicted by another's example  - not their actions, who they are in every action.  Praise God for realizing that who I always hoped I'd be "found" being is not exactly who I am today.  But that I can be.  And that I'm humbled... and found as the mess that I am and not the perfect girl I'd love to be.  Who always loves, always speaks truth with kindness, always holds people when they hurt, and feeds people when they're hungry. Praise God that that sentence makes me start to cry - because I'm not.  And because I desire to be.  Praise God for right desires!

I'm not trying to turn my fire into someone's fight.

But there's a fire.

And God knows, there could be a fight.

.

This will not be the first time I've published this fact here, but in my ideal world I wake up early, stay up late and nap every day.  It's a beautiful world there.  It really is.  And I'm kind of close to living there, minus the naps.  Which turns out are actually very important to keeping the balance in that happy place.  As I crawled into bed last night I desperately wished I could happily live on 3 hours of sleep.  Not because I'd only be getting three hours of sleep, but because I would be getting 6 or 7 or nearly 8 and I wished I didn't need those, because there would still be hours of fun to be had. 

That said, tonight is our Blueberries game, and that means another beautiful late night - and a painful Thursday.

PS Those of you who have seen the Blueberries, or who plan to, maybe tonight, we just want to make sure there are no unfair expectations.  We are a social group - who has soccer at its foundation - more clearly, at its founding.  But soccer is not necessarily our greatest strength as a group.  You will see.  (FYI Facepaint is totally appropriate if you like.)

I'm not going to really post much about it, because I can imagine my mom already glued to the news at home.  But it's pretty interesting being on 4th and Union right now - I've already had quite a view from my window.  The "peaceful" protesters have already broken in the windows at Nike Town, a bank, "paint bombed" the courthouse.  They are tagging cars and buildings.  The police helicopters are out.  There are ambulances right outside our building.  It's getting rowdy on Pine - just two blocks away. 

I've already decided to leave at 4 - but that's three hours away and things are already getting a little wild. 

I guess I shared more than I intended.  But it's a wild experience - part of me wants to stay and be here (don't worry mom and dad - I don't plan to wander into the mix of it), it's one of those things you can tell your kids about in a couple decades maybe.  And part of me is just ready to get out of here, now. lol.  The architect who's been out at meetings and just walked back in to give us all that report was here in Seattle for the whole WTO shabang. 

Someone, who will not be named might be giggling a bit over it all.... but nerd that I am, my mind can't not associate these sort of experiences with literary history.  And what of course did I specialize in?  French Revolution and Apartheid literature.  Yep.  Not a fan of anarchy and lawlessness.  As far as I've seen, it's an evil for an evil.

News Coverage. 

And can I just tell you, Architects are ODD.  No one has even been worrying about this at all - until about 10 minutes ago. No concerns really about getting home.  And it's literally happening across the street from us.

MUMSY- GOOD NEWS - I'm blogging, so I'm obviously alive.  Right? ;)