Oh hey, we were there... the evening apparently 12-15 tornadoes were noted around Nebraska and Iowa.  When the sirens went off, we headed to the basement.  My hands were definitely shaking.  It's been a while since I've been that legitimately afraid.

Getting engaged one night, and two nights later sitting in a basement hoping to be "missed" by a tornado reportedly heading your way - it was a quite the exciting weekend, we had lots of feelings.

Hank Bought a Bus

My newest obsession.  I've had a hard time keeping focused at work this week.  Not so much that I want to surf the web or go explore - I just find myself staring.  A lot.  At home too.  But when I'm done staring - then I find myself clicking through my standby links, until my mind is collected and I'm ready to return to the world that feels less like reality - yet, requires my immediate presence.  This process, led me here, to Hank Bought a Bus... and I think it will soon become my new addiction.

An architect student. A photographer.  A refurbished old bus.  And a road trip.
How could I resist their invitation to follow?

Oh, and my other, older secret web addiction?  Forty Days of Dating. It's day 35!! It's a bit TMI at times - but I am so enthralled by their honest evaluation and the study of their behaviors, tendencies and desire to grow. Not to mention - they are so freaking creative!

Both series are going on right now - so go check them out now or you'll miss the joy of walking out the adventure with them and the discovery along the way!

40 Days of Dating – Tied Up from 40 Days of Dating on Vimeo.

Hey Friends,

I'm blessed to contribute each Wednesday to a wonderful art collective.  It tends to be a bit more practiced and refined than my typical Hope is an Anchor ramblings and it has already been a great growing experience.  It is quite a lot of fun and there is so much going on each day from all the contributors - today's article is about The Gold Under Our Feet.  And I'm especially partial to it, since of course I'm giving a little thought to one of my favorite children's stories, The Wizard of Oz.

Take a look, and perhaps add it to your "Favorites" bar.  ;)

(miss him ^)  

There are probably some, but not many that I have known, feelings better than that of knowing a dear friend who has been far away will soon be near again.   That cherished memories will have new laughs, new books, and new cups of hot coffee.  That once again, you'll have a good reason to be late from lunch.  Instead, you will be climbing up-hill with your arms full of treasures from the antique mines of Pike Place.  Making off like pack mice in a busy world.  And you won't be alone.

Even if it cannot last.

You probably know I love surprises.  Love them.  Love getting them, love giving them.  Love trying to figure them out! This weekend we're heading to Portland, where the Beau went to school and spent the next few years.  Besides that, I don't really know much.  I know I'll get to see a couple of his old friends.  I know there is a garden in a city involved.  I know we are going to Powells.  And on a hike. I know there is some evening event that is very unique to Portland that includes "a little bit of everything" and only takes place in September.   I know we are taking a train and I'm leaving work at 2.  I know we get back Sunday evening.  And I know what I was told to pack.  I know I am ridiculously excited to explore Portland this weekend with my Beau.  And I know I'm a very, very lucky young woman.

I feel like September is a playland.  With all the open time we had, we've planned a weekend to Portland (where John spent the 6 years before moving here), a backpacking trip in the Olympics (one of my 25 goals for this year was to visit the Olympics - plus, I've never used my backpacking backpack!), we're going to the Ellensburg Rodeo this weekend with my sisters, and we're moving John into his new place this month.  Not to mention, September is always my favorite month of the year!  It's the month I want to cuddle up with my mom and watch old films all day.  It's the month my dad and I take walks and go buy new pens.  It's when the air is perfectly warm but keeps you cool and gives you room to breathe.  Everything about September makes you want to grow and learn.  Be out, be in, be with people you love.  It's the month you could do anything or go anywhere!

From Southern Nomad. 

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

Recipe Book anyone?

This summer, I will be visiting The Corson Building. 

Just read through their entire website.  AMAZING.

So amazing, I considered not sharing... but decided to not be silly.

Have any of you ever been?

Tell me about it. 

please.

This really is the year for making things happen.  I think you've all heard the growing (and growing) frustration in me in regards to watching life happen.  Well, I'm pretty certain that frustration is there to drive us to actually change.  So this past weekend, I did something I've been wanting to do for years.  And Tuesday I had lunch at Melrose Market, where a month or two ago I said, "I should have lunch there someday."  And yesterday, I went into that little shop in the Olympic Hotel.  The one I've walked by countless times and always figured I'd stop in, one day.  I know this is all poorly put, but my point is simple:  do the thing you've been meaning to do, hoping to do, dreaming to do... because while you feel you might combust if you never do it, you'll more likely die.  Slowly, quietly, you'll just sink into it. 

So, while it was good to wait, to pray, to prepare.... don't wait too long... and my bet is, you already have.

Caution always sounds like wisdom.  But sometimes it's the wisdom of the slowly dead and dying.

CARPE DIEM.



We die daily. Happy those who daily come to life as well. ~George MacDonald

I have spent my days stringing and unstringing my instrument, while the song I came to sing remains unsung. ~Tagore

We cannot waste time. We can only waste ourselves. ~George M. Adams

How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. ~Annie Dillard, The Writing Life

I still find each day too short for all the thoughts I want to think, all the walks I want to take, all the books I want to read and all the friends I want to see. ~John Burroughs

For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin - real life. But there was always some obstacle in the way. Something to be got through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid. Then life would begin. At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life. ~Fr. Alfred D'Souza

This year, I am going to ride on a train.  I'd prefer it be across a country I've never been.  But I wouldn't mind if it carried me along the coast my heart has come to resemble.

(worth posting again)

Sometimes, when two writers set off to explore, create, or otherwise find the perfect day they don't need to use a pen to relate the story later.  Their feet, once set in motion simply call out the terms and their tale is evident to those who open their eyes to see.  The adventures calling to the ones with courage to follow.

So, here is to telling stories with our lives.
Here's to being artists in deed.
Here's to holding onto hope, and when we can't, letting hope hold on to us.
Here's to seeing, being, doing, finding, trusting and living.
Here's to finding it's better to be, then to be what seems.
Here's to being open.
Here's to realizing that we don't know what perfect is, but our Maker is faithful to finish the work He started. And maybe one day we'll finish our works too.
Today, we begin.

Word.

When Kristin and I said we were bored one time, our mom made us sit at the kitchen table for hours... not allowed to do anything. Bored was a dirty word in our house. (Other forbidden phrases were "I'm starving" and exaggerations of hundreds, millions or trillions- to which my dad would threaten to make us WRITE out that the said object or sentence that many times.) And I love that. Rather than the threat "I'll show you what bored is" that we regularly heard from our mom and dad, I think I'll probably inform my children that there's no such thing as bored, only boring. :0   Perhaps cruel, but I can't agree more.   We often think that if we're bored it's because life and other people can't keep up with our highly exciting taste and personality... not so.   It just means you can't create... you need to be spoon fed adventures and toys.   I remember sitting on sidewalks with ants and rolly pollies, running through sprinklers, playing with friends with sticks as swords and forts as castles far more than I remember my toys.   I learned to never be bored.   My parents taught me to enjoy every moment to the fullest, for what it is.   I want to teach my kids that.  

Last night, driving home from my game I had a dozen different thoughts running through my head. At least three different blog posts were simultaneously rolling along. I got home and contemplated working on my resume, writing out all these blogs, or reading. I showered, ate a bowl of cereal, thought about how much I was craving yogurt and granola, brushed my teeth and went to bed.

So, that unnecessary background information covered, here are a few of my thoughts. For starters, I need to blog. I explained to my sister last week, blogging for me is like digesting. Writing in general is, but this is where I go to write a vast majority of those things. If I don't blog, I get backed up. (Graphic? Sorry.) My productivity at work tends to slow down as all these thoughts start cluttering and multiplying and interbreeding like a bunch of crazy rabbits until I can't even see straight!

For example, this blog. THIS is the product of me NOT blogging yesterday or today. I've worked ridiculously hard, but I feel more ragged than normal. Why? I think partly, no writing outlet. So, you get all these ideas that have been rumbling around in my head until they're behaving a bit like the neighborhood cat that can't walk straight due to a family tree that looks more like a cul de sac. :/ (don't selah here)

All that said: I think I need to get better at letting ideas mull.

I've been considering our generation a lot. We think we're creative, but what have we actually ever made, ourselves? What building have we designed? What ceiling have we been commissioned to paint? What novels have we written? What piece have we composed?

No. It's more like I tumble therefore I am.

And yes, once again, I'm blaming most of it on our ability to get quick but shallow releases of our art. A fix and then we're off to the next. I haven't written anything remarkable. I highly doubt that when I die, people will be purchasing leather bound hard copies of my blog posts rambling on about rabbits and the cat down the street.

Personally, I've got to be careful to not let the pressure release prematurely. That's what I've been becoming more aware of. There's a balance between nurturing and growing through practice and every day experience, and thinking that boarding the plane is actually the point of the trip. It's not even the destination. I've been asking myself these questions more. And praying, Lord, don't let me create my own adventures in order to fill my desires to truly live one. I know He gives us desires to create. We have to become those who can practice and move, but not let ourselves jump the gun and make up our own opportunities to take off the edge of that pressure growing inside us. Let the pressure grow. Let us start to feel an unbearable desire. Let us be okay with feeling the pain, and not getting a quick fix. Or with having questions, and not just googling them.

Maybe I need to let the pot boil a little.

I don't want to buy an adventure from Southwest... when this longing is meant to drive me to my destiny, and completely reorder who I am inside.

Just some thoughts, even as I look expectantly and excitedly at my coming trips.... I don't want them to release what's growing inside me, I want them to ignite and fuel what's being formed in that pressure.