Every day I feel my young, cool self dying just a little more.  Most concerts my friends go to, I have to google. I almost always love them.  But I also am months behind the group. That's why I'm gonna indulge myself for one of my last chances to say this:

I liked her before she was cool.  Waaaay before she was cool.  Thank you.  Thank you. 

In 2006 two of my favorite new artists were T. Swift and Miss Miranda. I had pre-ordered the first of one and had a pre-released copy of the other.  I think I called it. 

Now, feel free to send me music recommendations.  Because otherwise, I may just keep listening to my Norah and Avril on repeat. :(  My days of cool are gone - this DJ will happily take requests tonight.

On Kindness [and Gaining Friends]

We get to visit Portland this weekend!!!  John will be in a good friend's wedding on Saturday and we will be staying at the home of some of John's college friends.  I'm excited about both things.  For one, the couple marrying are incredibly kind, sincere people.  When we first had them over and I was finally able to meet the soon-to-be bride, I was almost annoyed by her incredibly sweet self - beautiful person - and melodic voice.  Come on. The voice too?? And the worst part is, it's all real. She's really just the kindest person.  Not snarky at all, like someone else you might know.  :|   She just loves people and cares for others and gives thoughtful, kind responses and laughs when people make jokes and listens when they tell stories.

They are both great, and their wedding will be incredibly sweet I have no doubt.  I'm excited John will get stand up there beside him.  And having just come out of our own wedding, we're excited to more knowledgeably bless/support them than we might otherwise have done.

And as for the couple we get to stay with - I hardly know them.  I have met them once before, when John and I found ourselves an hour outside of Portland and suddenly with no place to stay.  On a whim, John texted some old friends, and they opened up their home to us.  While they made the drive over for our wedding, I didn't even get to see them on that busy day. I had been so excited when I saw their "yes" arrive in the RSVP!

I'm really looking forward to hopefully sharing a meal with this incredibly kind couple and getting to know them better - I love people who open up their homes, who intentionally create space in their home to be filled by family, friends, and friends of friends. It is kind. As is always their responses when we message and ask to crash on a weekend. They told us we have a 'home in Portland.'  These were not John's best friends mind you.  They were friends.  Maybe even good friends.  A DECADE AGO.  And yet, they tell us we always have a place at their home.  I want to be their friends. And I want to be just like them.

When we stayed there last summer, they left the kitchen door unlocked for us since we'd be in late.  They tried to keep their toddler quiet in the morning so we could sleep.  They had coffee waiting for us and saved us breakfast.  They casually sat with us, but made no demands on our time.  They sent us out with great recommendations for the town.

I love marrying a good man, who is a good friend, who has good friends.

This weekend I will be contemplating the virtue of kindness, and how to be a friend.

There is a number of design principles we take for granted.  I'm not sure they are the laws we all find them to be.  For one: 

Text should be obvious and easy to read. 

Why should I make my point bold.  In one perfect line.  Right in the middle of the page? Why should I give it to you so easy?  Why can't I make you look for it?  Why can't I reward the seeker and not placate the consumer?  Why can't I make you work? Why can't there be competition on my page when there is competition everywhere in the world.  I have a proposition: 

A page should have choices. 
Art should ask something of you.
It should incorporate your values. 
It should respect you enough to allow interpretation.

You can't learn if there wasn't an opportunity to choose other than you did.  You can't learn about yourself.  You can't learn about the art.  You can't learn about the world. 


Is it cruel to create in such a way as to allow fault, error, other than your intention? Or is it love to allow, to free your witness, your spectator, offer them back their agency. 

Last year John and I practiced a little thing called "No-Plans-November."  It felt both painful and amazing.  I don't know why we all feel like we have to say yes to things.  So many things.  But setting an imaginary rule that said we actually had to say "No" to everything was unbelievably freeing.  It was funny how many friends responded "I'm jealous" or "I wish I could do that" when we politely declined their invitations and explained our pact.  My response became, "you can."

We haven't even talked about repeating it this year.  In fact, I don't think either of us realized that November is this weekend.  But then a friend told me they couldn't make a show because they were going to be practicing "No-Plans-November."  And I got jealous.  

I'm sure you're all sick of hearing me complain about how much there is to do and how overwhelmed I am by this and by that.  You're probably thinking "Just wait until... [insert your life standing right now]..."  But for real folks, we are so done.  So very, very done.  We've been feeling past our limits for so very incredibly long.  And I know that's how we grow.  And I know that's how God stretches us.  And I know that's how He increases our capacity. But we're sooo past our capacity. And I think we're learning we need to say No. 

I like that we say yes.  In fact, it's one of my favorite things about John in particular.  And we have so much fun saying yes. We just are realizing that we have to change somehow, something, for this life to be sustainable.  We need rest. We need time to get to have fun and refuel together.  And we need to be able to feel we have accomplished and completed all that we've committed to - that our home is in order, cared for and being well-utilized; that we are being helpful, healthy employees; that we are stewarding our bodies with less stress and more exercise; that we're enjoying life and not going to look back and wonder what happened to our first couple years of marriage; that we have time for our family and close friends when they need us or just miss us; that we can share a meal and take the time to prepare it, rather than ordering take-out because it's already 9:30 by the time we get to think about dinner; that our time and energy are moving us toward our life-goals, and not just around in busy frantic circles. 

We spent our first official night out in our little home last night.  My mom and I spent most all of Saturday moving John and I into the 450sf space, eventually leveling shelving by candlelight. There is still a good deal to do to be "moved in" and a good deal more to be "moved out" of the big house. But we are so much closer. In fact yesterday was the first day in a long time that I didn't feel like there was an impossible number of things on our to-do list.  There's a final rung on this ladder after all - and the view is growing quite spectacular up here!  That's how I feel.

John woke at 5:30am on Saturday to drive to Portland for a bachelor party.  And I rose with him.  When coffee was finished and my husband drove off - I went to work on all the little things. I found myself on a ladder under the kitchen sunroof. I stopped and stared at the clouds blowing by outside, above, away from my safe cover. It was beautiful. I probably stayed a moment too long.  But I didn't mind the luxury.

I cooked the better part of our dinner in the big house.  Actually, all but the asparagus. But serving up our plates, pouring the wine, and praying over our meal at the table we will dine at again and again over the next few years - it felt sweet.  So very sweet.  And to wake this morning and look around, knowing I will look at this each new morning - it felt kind. And to turn my head and rest it on a strong, gentle chest as it breathed in and so slowly out - it felt good. So very good.

I believe I've mentioned it here in the past month or two, but I think often now of something John told me, something he read. Successful people recognize when things are going their way.  I want to notice - recognize - appreciate the good things. Life requires we recognize sad, dark, painful things every day, lately it feels constant. It's hard to find light.  It's challenging to turn the conversation to happy and meaningful, praiseworthy topics.  But I want to sit and watch as those precious happenings, people and actions float to the surface of my mind and my conversations. I want to contemplate their glow above this gloomy lake.

I woke up this morning, looked around, and felt room. I saw the glow in the dark little space we'll call home.

I'm less than I thought I was, much less. I'm poorer than I knew I was, much poorer. I'm not the wife, host, cook, friend, writer or woman I hoped to be in my 'one day' - but I look around and can't help but notice, things are going my way.  My home and husband, my new life, it is sweet, kind and good. And I get to be a part of that.

I am grateful.

As you well know, John and I are preparing to move into what we call the "cottage" - a 450 sf converted garage grandfathered in as an ADU many years ago.  It's exciting, refreshing and frightening.  I say we are "preparing" because we currently have the cottage mostly full (about as full as I'd prefer it ever be) while also having the 3 bedroom upstairs apartment also completely full. In fact, too full.  How full?  Three couches and a chair full.  Too full.

With the help of a friend, we've made our tiny future home a little dream in many ways.  We selected our own colors, floor, counter and fixtures.  We're picking out our cabinet knobs and our fans.  We'll hang our wedding photos on the walls. And... we purchased our first couch.  Our first real, we are adults and sometimes buy things from department stores instead of Craigslist couch!! We can't wait to move in and be all settled. But between that happy ever after and now, is a lot of stuff.

I've been getting rid of boxes for the past year now, and it seems to never end.  And that is just my things, not even his half.  We will not fit.  Not as we are.  That somehow seems poetic, a tell-tale truth about our lives right now and this marriage we've just set out on. And I like that.  It only adds momentum.

My goal for 2015, and for the months that remain in 2014, is to live a simpler life. Our wedding, and so far marriage has been an incredibly humbling process.  I feel like perhaps I'm not as talented or skilled as I had thought myself.  And while it really hurt at first to discover, I'm accepting that maybe I don't need to be.  I know the coming year will be a constant learning process for me and will likely hold a few identity shifts (if not crises).  My goal is to just handle them as gracefully as I possibly can - and accept that I don't need what I once felt accustomed to have and/or be. That being said - I deleted my to-do list yesterday.  It was challenging, as I wanted very badly to keep it and prove myself by it, or at the very least judge myself by it. But instead I made myself clear that space in order to create room for a fresh start and a bit more play.

I hope to create space. 

That is my personal mission statement for 2015 and perhaps beyond.

It's a three blog day!!!  Can you recall the last time that happened? Because I can't. It's enough to make me cry.  Because I haven't had an inspiring thought in so long - something inspiring enough to make me come back here a second and a third time.  But this past week, I keep having little lines show up and stand beneath the window of my mind, shouting their playful refrains from somewhere sunny and cool and crisp.  I feel like writing.  I feel like flirting. I feel like leaving work and going home and playing tennis with my husband.  Baking a pie.

Three weeks away from this place has had a good affect on me.

I feel like heading to the ocean.  I understand why in years past, society spent time 'by the sea' when  ailed.  To be away - outside - apart.  These past two weeks, we spent so much time in a car, driving.  You begin to feel tired and cramped from sitting. Constrained.  But after it is all said and done - I feel I've drunk half of the hills of Washington. I drained a drop from the Boise river. And I rolled up the edge of Oregon, cut off a corner no one would notice, and brought it home in my sack.

What I want to do this fall:  In October (what remains), I want to watch Doctor Who episodes, eat popcorn, drink lots of chai, and read books. I want to watch movies. In November, I want to write thank you cards and drink spiked eggnog while we hide inside our fort we call a house. December, I know fall is over, and I want to try to enjoy time as it goes, try to soak in each moment and make my feet and clothes so heavy with memories that the holidays won't be able to rush as they always do. I want to take time to celebrate our birthdays in January. Plan surprises. Put paper and bows on boxes and write each other birthday cards. And after that, I'll start to get antsy.  I'll start watching for green peaking up from the ground.  I'll monitor temperatures and note every decimal as it goes up.  I'll wear warm cozy socks, hate leaving for work, and return while it's dark again.  I'll still be finishing up my 'Goals list' for the year. And while we hide inside in our warm, safe place, observing and collecting data, we'll be plotting our escape - our next escapade - another adventure - another spring.

That is what I want to do this fall.

I'm married!!

It has been wonderful.  A lot of changes, a lot of adjustments, a whole lot of emotions and a little bit of journaling even.  A lot of wonderful times with my love and now, husband.  A lot of tissue paper and presents.  A lot of laughing.  A lot of sunshine.  A lot of driving.  And now, I find myself back in the office, wiping away a lot of dust that has settled on my keyboard (literally).

Becoming someone else - losing my name - it has been frightening to me at most of the moments.  But right now it feels like a blessing, an opportunity to shed and transform yet again. I hope to make the most of this opportunity to become someone new, even as I carry about my marriage license, proving to office and bureau and agency that I am now someone new. I hope to prove it to myself too - walk into this empty new room and feel peace at all the opportunity.

We almost didn't register for wedding gifts, because we didn't want to buy into the materialism surrounding weddings.  We didn't want to invite guests as an implied exchange for gifts.

In the end, we did register. Because, we can't make it all on our own, and we didn't want our friends and family to feel it was our aim.

And can I just tell you - we are so glad we did.  Planning becomes overwhelming, and you can easily start to feel you are doing a terrible job, especially if you are two perfectionists who really love so many people and hate hurting other's feelings.  A midst those cycles of thoughts, conversations and feelings, we'll often open the door to find some box sitting on the front steps, or the chair next to the door, or right out in the middle of the front walkway like it snuck inside the gate all on its own.  It feels magical.  It feels frivolous.  Gifts just appearing at your door from all sorts of friends who have never bought you a birthday gift or a Christmas present.  And you've never before received a gift "with someone".  But here we are, us two, getting all sorts of fun surprises from all these fun people, like a three-week long scavenger hunt constantly lifting our spirits, making us laugh and dance and celebrate getting married and building a home together, and all the special people we will get to see on that life-altering day.  It's exciting.  I'm so glad we didn't skip this part of the lead-up.  We would be just fine without all the amazing serving trays and copper bar wear.  We'd still get married.  And we'd still have dishes and forks and glasses like we do now.  But this process and lead up - we wouldn't have that - this increasing excitement, ongoing celebration of not just our decision, but our community, we might have missed.  It's such a blessing you guys.

And it isn't only the gifts - last night, our friend Erik brought over his amazing new girlfriend, and they helped us with house chores for an evening and ate pizza and drinks with us around a messy table. This girl I've spoken two twice before, grabbed a paint brush and sat beside me for hours laboring on my new home.

Last week, my life-long best friend Elise picked me up at my house at 5something AM, with a homemade latte and drove me to the floral shop, where I wandered and strove to make decisions for hours.  She then dropped me off at work and invited herself back over to the house to help in a few more nights.  She helped cut runners, make decisions, sort through the missing details, and encourage me.

Two mornings ago I had a voicemail.  Aunt Linda, my neighbor for the past 20 some years, my elementary teacher at times, one of my best friend's mom's, eventually one of my friends had just called to tell me how she felt about me, to express her excitement and encouragement, and to let me know she was praying.  "No need to call back."  The voicemail lifted me up that day as I worked through another painful day in the office.

Esther dropped me a beautiful card in the mail that I love! My sisters have both written cards, sent emails, texts and calls. Elsa spent a morning with me touring the venue and dreaming about decor.  Her and Ty threw us an amazing party along with my parents, and the whole neighborhood it seemed. My parents painted for hours, unbeknownst to John and I at premarriage.

My mom has come back many times, laboring for hours and hours on our home and yard, running errands trying to get everything ready for the wedding and family visitors.

Today, I feel incredibly blessed by these people. I'm so happy they will be with us on our wedding day. I'm just so blessed by each of their gifts.

Thank you.

Mallory MacDonald Photography

Let's continue the 'wonderful' woman crush posts - shall we? This lady. There is no one like her. Her grace, humor, kindness set her apart among the women of our generation. And her skill at noticing and capturing the unique qualities and personality of a child, a family, or a moment define her. Love this woman. And I could not be more grateful to have her as a part of our wedding.

Go vote for Mallory, nominated for King 5's Best of the Northwest Photographers!

Are you kidding me!?

A worthy woman crush if ever there were....


 

All About That [Upright] Bass - Jazz Meghan Trainor Cover ft. Kate Davis

My mom is far better than I deserve. 




I am pretty sure she has been at my house this morning since 9:30am, with a shovel, leveling dirt, fixing water drainage problems, and laying out bricks to make a beautiful walkway.  Just like she was until after dark yesterday. And Friday, painting. With my dad.  While John and I were gone...

And in return, I am typically too short and too impatient with her. As John often says, she is probably one of the most patient, and hard working people we know.  As I said, my mom is far better than I deserve.  I'm really grateful for that.

Today is a great day.  I am going to take a lunch.  I cleaned my desk.  I cleaned and organized the print station.  I have time to work on long-term work tasks.  The skies are cool blue.  I have tomorrow off.  I googled how many days until my wedding (24).  I used the calculator to find out how old I am again (27).  A pleasant surprise, since I've been walking around as a 28 year old lately.  I still have 2 years and 3 months to knock off my "Before 30 Goals."  It's fall, so of course I'm thinking about goals.  I can't really remember any of my before 30 goals except to buy a house.  Which I guess John already took care of for me? Not really sure if it counts.  I don't feel the sense of accomplishment.  But maybe that's part of it.  It goes hand in hand with a lot I have been learning  - or rather - am trying to learn.  Like being less independent and overpowering.  Learning to respond with "Perhaps, but here's why I'd rather not" rather than with "No" and an intense expression.  Learning to be okay with not feeling that sense of accomplishment.  Being okay with sometimes just needing someone else to help. Being okay with others needing help too.

We're reading through a marriage book right now and I found myself in the chapter entitled "Loving the Stranger."  The author discusses the season in every new marriage when you lose the glasses and see all the flaws in your spouse.  The "honeymoon" phase is over and you find yourself wondering "Who is this person? This isn't who I married."  This will probably happen to John and I, and it will come as an absolute surprise, because right now we both really feel like we're pretty aware of each other's flaws.  At least the little ones that tend to drive you mad about each other. And a lot of the big ones too.  This didn't strike me much in the chapter, but what did was how the author talked about those changes.  He said, you change.  You are one person.  Then you become another person.  Marriage changes you.  Babies change you.  New careers change you.

It shouldn't be so shocking to me, but it was.  For the past two years, I've been telling John how I just don't feel like myself.  I even started a private blog where I began writing just for me, hoping to remember myself.  It could sound humorous, but it's actually kind of a frightening feeling.  Not feeling you for so long.  At times it made me worry that I shouldn't be in this relationship - like maybe I couldn't "be me" - though I knew it wasn't anything John was doing.  Never before have I had such an amazing friend who allowed me to be myself and encouraged and forgave and listened and loved.  It couldn't be him.  It had to be work.  Or all the other changes.  As I've likely said here before, we came to realize that in a matter of months, I'd moved out, changed jobs, entered my first committed relationship and grown a year older.  It was a lot of change at once.

I've been waiting ever since for me to remember me, somehow fall back into stride with myself, or crawl my way back to that ease and internal sense of self. And that is what struck me yesterday as I read.  I won't.  I've changed.  It's not about waiting or finding. I'm just the person I am now. I'm not as kind.  I complain more.  I'm really strong though, until I'm not.  In fact, I'm much more strong and consistent, I don't let things shake my emotions. I don't work out a lot.  I have a hard time waking up early, but when I do, I find I still love it.  I like porters and not really blue moon. I sometimes drink my coffee black and actually like it.  I order vanilla lattes. On hot summer days, I love to sip cold gin and often choose it over whiskey at a bar. If I have more than two drinks, I'll know it. I get angry if I spend a whole night with a group of friends and come home feeling as far if not further away from them. I don't keep my room clean.  I love gardening.  I can even put up with seeing a few spiders out in it without tossing in my gloves and going inside.  I have chickens.  I freaking love my chickens. I don't know if I want to be in marketing.  I hate saying something I don't believe is true. If I do say something, I hate saying it weak or unconvincingly. I cuss sometimes.  I rarely ever write.

This isn't who I was.  But I just realized, it is who I am. I get to choose to change, but who I am right now is really who I am.  And that will always be true.

Yesterday, I made a choice toward one single change.  And I'm going to make it again today.  And hopefully one day I won't complain much.  And I'll be kinder.  I'll be gentle again.  I'll respond openly.  I'll laugh more. I'll drop this new habit of cussing.  I'll put my clothes away and not toss them on the floor.

Marriage is going to change me.  Our tiny house will have to change me.  And a dozen other things along the way will change me.  I won't be the same person I am today.  I will be a new me.  And hopefully a better one.

That ain't no way to treat a lady.

I almost turned this song off I was so annoyed by all the tropes - then I started listening to the actual words. I am sorry, but this is currently my favorite song. Give it at least 3 minutes.

 I am so freaking sick of Country music! My how an overwhelming wave of dumbass lyrics and frat-themes have managed to completely turn me off to one of my favorite things.  "Conway and George Strait never did it that way" - that about sums it up.  That being said, I still keep listening, just waiting for that sparse melody that's about something more than getting a girls name, a tailgate, or a good night.

Tell me a story like you used to. Use real words.

 

As an addendum to this message:  I still love Miranda.
Have since Uncle Billy handed me her first album. :)

The three day weekend is nearly here.  And I think I over-packed.  But if we can make it to Saturday night  -  I think we'll be okay!  And the best part is, we'll still have 2 more days to rest and accomplish much!!

We're 37 days out folks. Our renovation should be done in the next week.  Our invitations should be in the mail tomorrow.  My sister's things will be picked up by the movers tomorrow and driven to Cali. Flowers for the wedding will be ordered tomorrow. Tomorrow is a big day.  And tonight is full of work to get there.  Here we go weekend!! But first, Friday.

The weekend is coming for you. 

And it's a three day. 

Fancy

[sorry.]