My House

I am tired. TIRED. About nine hours of sleep combined from the last two nights is really significantly too little. Happiness to me right now is nothing more than walking through the front door of my house, kicking off my shoes, finding a pillow and a blanket, and sleeping all day through all these thunderstorms. I'm so sleepy, when I turn my head to look somewhere, my eyes follow behind, turning more slowly. You just tried to do that, didn't you? Mwahaha.

I just want to be in my house. Lounging on my couch with my shades down, listening to the storm through my napping haze. Just home, you know?

For my birthday last month, I received a gift certificate to a place that makes wall vinyls. You know, those sticker-like things that you can attach to your wall? No need to paint it on, or paint over it when you change your mind. They just peel off, which is perfect for a gypsy-hearted gal like myself.

Yesterday my vinyl came in the mail.


Here's what the wall now reads:

Of Light and Truth and Hope

I have learned a little bit
about lofty things and reality
as opposite as they are
and what I have learned is that
there are only a few things to count
on and a few things to wish for
and they are always the same things.

I decided to get the little poem I shared here a few weeks ago turned into wall art. It's just the reminder I need every day that most of my wanting is misplaced, that my real longing should be for the things I've already got.

Please disregard the sagging book shelf, the ugly light switches and air intake, the raggedy chair that will "one day" be reupholstered, etc. etc. But this is my house, and it's calling my name.

Gray

Dave snapped this picture on Thursday of last week. Since he has asked me to not go into detail about the situation (even though the whole thing is kind of funny,) and I do what I can to not blatantly go against his wishes, suffice it to say we were temporarily without car and walking to a fast food place down the street from my office. And not happy about it. We were feeling a little grumpy, a little annoyed, a little distressed. As we started walking, it began to rain, which obviously really helped our situation and then I ripped my pants. I know that's not a big deal, but just a funny cherry on top of the whole situation. Union Station in its Gothic glory and storm clouds rolling in really captured our mood.

You know how sometimes you're in a moment that makes you just want to yell, "seriously?!" Well, the past month or so have been one "seriously" moment after another, it seems. I've told you about a couple of them, but there are more, I assure you. We have been to the point a couple of times where there are literally no options and we're forced to wait it out wondering what the purpose is behind all of this... what lesson we're supposed to be learning, what piece of the puzzle the truck brakes going out are, or the car accident was, or how large and unexpected questions arising make sense in the big picture.

Yesterday we visited a church in Franklin where Dr. Jacob Bernard was speaking. Dr. Bernard is the man who runs the orphanage we visited in Haiti. He is a major inspiration. His story is fascinating and touching, and his life is one of impact on a global scale. We were excited to see him again. Every time he mentioned the children of Port au Prince or the babies in the orphanage, I teared up. It still hits me and it still hits me hard. He spoke about the deep need that has a grip on Haiti and the call that some of us have to help. And before you think that this is all out of context... all the junk in my life over the past two months was suddenly meaningless. It just fell away. It wasn't about my big picture or my life lessons and learning things. It was a relief to the distractions. I was pulled so strongly back to Haiti and to those children. I was back to aching for them and hoping for them and wanting to bring them into my home.


Today is the 6th month anniversary of the earthquake. The 6th month anniversary of when my eyes were opened to Haiti and just hints of its impact on me began to show. I love Haiti. I love the people. I love the way it has changed me. I love the way I can suddenly feel like my life is just as insignificant as its supposed to be when I think of Haiti.

I'm Weird

I'm feeling very boring this week. I don't have any exciting stories to tell or fun things coming up that I can blog about. So, because I have nothing interesting to bring to the table, here are some random facts about me:

-I am really good at deciphering smells that don't make sense for the setting. Like, "oh man, it smells like bandaids and lightening bugs in here," and it's unnervingly accurate.
-I went to a museum once that had small pieces of paper set up around the rooms with quotes from famous artists. My favorite was a Claude Monet quote that said "Color is my day-long obsession, joy and torment." I felt connected to Monet on a deep level at that moment. I kept the piece of paper.
-I really do not like uppercase G. The rest of the letters are fine.
-I have about 40 pairs of shoes, and I want to take pictures of my feet in all of them. I've got a decent start to that.
-The most I've ever paid for a pair of shoes is $30 (vintage cowboy boots from the flea market)... and that about sent me into a nervous breakdown. I usually spend between $5 and $10. Hardly ever more than $15.
-I could arrange things into interesting clusters all day. There is little in life more joyous to me than mixing colors, patterns, textures, and shapes.
-The worst job I ever had was working in an art store.
-The most content and purposeful I ever felt in one moment was in Haiti at an orphanage, sitting on the sidewalk next to a shade tree, talking to my husband, holding a baby. I cried because my heart was so full.
-Watching my husband building a shelter in Haiti was the most content and purposeful I've seen him in a long time. That also made me cry.
-I want to move to Haiti.
-I arrange my iPhone apps by color. And it makes me very, very happy to just scroll back and forth looking at them.
-Sunflower seeds are addicting to me. I can easily eat a pound bag of them, and the speed at which I eat them cannot be rivaled. I secretly want to join a sunflower seed eating competition and be respected among my peers.
-I was reading through a list of all the posts I've put on twitter recently (looking for a link I had "tweeted") and I laughed out loud several times. I think I'm really funny online. Not as funny in person.
-I have very thick hair, but it does not look thick at all. It looks thin, and I have no idea how to remedy that.
-Pink is my favorite color and has been for as long as I can remember.
-If I didn't have to purchase art supplies, I would give all my art away for free happily and/or use the money I (theoretically) make selling it for different causes. I currently have a list of 4 causes that I want to do that for.
-I don't care for breakfast food.
-"Pen and Paper" is a good name for the sort of small business I feel I could run.
-I don't know how to swim well, and thus am kind of afraid of the water.
-Also... more irrational fears: sinkholes, sidewalk grates, heights, being down at the bottom of a very tall room and looking up, breaking my ankle again (perhaps not irrational), public speaking, getting trampled, birds, and many many more.
-I briefly lived in a house that had all hardwood floors except in the bathroom, kitchen, and laundry room, which were carpeted. And that still confuses me.
-My favorite pizza toppings are pepperoni, banana peppers, pesto, and mushrooms.
-I want to have a big homemade pizza party with everyone who reads my blog so I can meet you all. If you don't know that I know you read my blog... I dare you to leave a comment with, um... your favorite pizza toppings? I want to know you better.

Firecracker

The word firecrackers is much more festive than the word fireworks, don't you think? Well festive is the perfect word to describe the weekend I had. Two cookouts and three other meals with friends, a drive-in double-feature, fried okra, homemade popsicles, playing outside, fireworks from the tallest building downtown, getting stuck in traffic with a car full of giggling 20 and 30 somethings, mosquito bites. Perfection in a 3 day holiday weekend. I love holidays.

Blank Space

Do you ever see an open white space and not think about doodling on it? Because I can't not think about it. It's like a nervous tick I have. I see something white and empty and I have to fill it.

Right now my brain is blank space. I have been going nonstop for about two months and right now I have nothing planned. I mean, I probably should clean or do at least a couple loads of laundry. Or maybe pick up the messes in my house or trim the hedges outside. But I'm really enjoying this white space. I try a little to fill it up with new popsicle recipes or movies at a friends house but that is the best kind of filler for blank space.

I have a THREE AND A HALF day weekend starting around noon today that includes: a backyard cookout, a trip to the farmer's market, a neighborhood party, fireworks from the tallest building downtown Nashville, looking at a car for sale, trying more popsicle recipes, sleeping in, and who knows what else. These little bursts of color in my white space are exactly what I need.

A New Hobby

I admit that I have a problem.

I am thoroughly aware that beginning new projects when there are piles of old projects making a maze through your living room is not a great idea. I understand that I'm easily influenced by trends with other bloggers and artists. I'm also aware that the time I spend on the computer and/or in front of the TV is probably rotting my brain. And I have enough brain left to realize that combining a new hobby to attempt another trend with even more time in front of the computer screen is not the best idea.

But here we are anyway, stuck in the middle of a new hobby. Digital scrapbooking. I am ridiculously picky about scrapbooks. I think a lot of them are tacky, honestly, and my tastes and trends change so often that scrapbooks are almost always outdated before they're great to look at. Now obviously not all of them fit in that outdated and tacky category. My mother in law, for example, made a beautiful scrapbook after my wedding and it's classic and pretty and timeless. Our bridesmaid's dresses were not so timeless, but that's a different story.

Digital scrapbooks fix that issue though. If you don't like it, delete the file and go on with your life. You're not committed to the layouts or the paper or the font. And if there's one thing I am, it's noncommittal. Mixing colors and patterns and textures is one of my favorite things, and this is a fun way to do that. Here's one I did recently of one of my favorite pictures of Dave and I ever.
I'm just learning here. So it's not perfect, but I like to just jump in. And it surprisingly doesn't take me very long to do one of these. It satisfies that crazy impulsive urge I have to only work on projects that can get done quickly.

NashVegas Craft Fair

Saturday was the much anticipated craft fair. It wasn't what I would call a smashing success. But I'm still glad I did it. Really really glad I did it.

Dave made my booth and a little matching table from a bunch of old pallets he got FOR FREE. I got so many compliments on this thing. It was definitely the most unique booth. I was proud of it. He disassembled and reassembled the booth on Saturday morning before the fair. Earbuds in place, obviously.

And I snapped this picture below while thinking of my oldest little sister, whom we call Bean. She says that I'm all rainbows and unicorns and buttons, or maybe it's glitter and sprinkles and butterflies... something like that. I've obviously shielded her well from my dark side. Actually I told her something about myself once that is kind of weird that I don't tell a lot of people, (don't worry - it's not a juicy detail. Just something semi-private) and I asked her if that freaked her out and she said, "Nope. It just makes you more sparkly." For some reason I took that as a giant compliment, even if it wasn't meant to be one, and I teared up and I wanted to hug her - but she was all the way in Missouri. So, to make a short story unnecessarily long, when a butterfly landed on my table full of cutesy crafts, I thought she would appreciate it. Also, I miss her. BEAN, I MISS YOU.
This was Saturday around 12:30.

Things got a little wet for a bit. But luckily, my artwork can hold its own against the elements and nothing was ruined. The sun came back out with a vengeance and dried up my little booth nicely and promptly fried the dickens out of me. Notice the giant white pole to the right of the booth. That was to be my shade. It didn't work. Maybe you noticed.

Kindness

There's a painting I just 1/2 finished (meaning, it could be considered finished by some people and if I weren't so persnickety I might also call it finished) that's a simple textured green background with white letters. It says, "be kind. it matters." It's a reminder to myself that even when I'm a total grumpus and I'm having a really super terrible day, it's crucial to be kind to the people around me. The people I love and know very well and the people I don't know very well and only love out of principle. Because you're supposed to love everyone, right? And there are a lot of people that I really really love. Out of principle. And I've been thinking about kindness a lot lately.

This weekend, my youngest sister, my mom, and two friends came into town to visit. One evening we walked them around downtown to see some of the Honky Tonks and bright lights and cheap souvenirs. We walked through "Printer's Alley" on the way to the car, which is sort of a shady place in Nashville. Shady as in nude karaoke, so you know... seriously shady. A very stumbling homeless man holding a bottle of mouth wash (that wasn't filled with mouth wash) came over to my husband and mumbled something inaudible. Dave leaned in, the man repeated himself, "will you shake my hand?" Dave said, "yeah, of course." Shook his hand and stood and talked for a moment. Dave mostly saying, "I'm sorry? I didn't understand that." And things of that nature. For some reason, with all these thoughts on kindness floating around in my head lately, standing there watching Dave politely talking and shaking hands with a man who was so entirely sloppy drunk and incomprehensible and shouting profanities, I got choked up. Now, that's obviously a testament to how irrational I am... that a homeless man yelling curses outside of a nude karaoke bar was a sweet emotional moment for me, but it's also a great example of the kind of man I'm married to. That he stands there shaking hands for a few minutes and trying to talk with said homeless man.

But, that's not entirely what this blog post is about. This is really about a very sweet couple that will remain nameless for the purpose of this little space. These are people who have only spent a tiny bit of time with us. Hardly know me, I feel. Great people, as far as I know. Really great.

And for some reason, I keep trying to give excuses for their kindness. Because if they did know me better, perhaps they wouldn't be so kind... and maybe it's easier for them to be generous because they don't know first hand how I think or act or feel. How I can get so judgmental, or how I can be selfish and materialistic, or the way I forget about being kind sometimes when the people I'm not nice to desperately need me to be nice. Maybe if they knew those things about me, they wouldn't have given us the gift they did. They wouldn't have cared so much that they went out of their way to be good people to us. Because if they were so so kind and generous to the person they think I am, I ought to try to be that person, right?

And thinking about all of that gets to this place that feels a lot like grace, and a lot like mercy, and a lot like Christ. I am not who I want to be and I'm not perfect. Not even remotely close. But there is kindness out there waiting for me regardless of the mess I am. So thank you so very much, friends. Thank you for being generous and altruistic and for giving me a snapshot of grace in a moment that surely needed it.

What Emotion is This?

There was a point yesterday in which Dave and I became very delirious and slap happy. It happened after he did some editing on the computer, after we got in the truck to go car shopping, after he realized his brakes were out, and even after he tried to fix them and found out he couldn't. It was after we decided car shopping was out of the question, after we hitched a ride to the repair shop and returned home, after the phone call from the repair shop telling us it was going to be $700, and after the begging and pleading with the car shop to lower the price as much as possible (down to $500.) It was after all that.

We sat in the living room. Numb. Not upset. Not stressed. Just... nothing. We were completely void of emotion.

And then, out of our numbness, we became ridiculous. We started laughing at everything that happened, cracking dumb jokes, making mental lists of the things in our house we could sell (half-joking, half-seriously,) and realizing that it was all out of our control. We weren't worried or concerned - we were in good moods.

Sometimes it takes an unexpected $300 bill, a wreck, a $500 car repair, a $350 car wrecking and storage bill, getting a car loan for the first time, pressure from work to buy a car so my schedule is back to normal, an upcoming art show for which I am unprepared, working 15 hour days- all within the same week- to make us realize it's all out of our control. How nice it feels to not be in control.

I Can Do This, I Can Do This...

It is TWO DAYS until the NashVegas Craft Fair and my living room is a disaster. I have piles of unfinished journals, finished journals, paintings, unfinished paintings, windows, shadow boxes, messes, paper scraps, ribbon, and the list goes on. I am very thankful that I have a mom and a sister coming into town this weekend and they are both people that will love me just the same if my house is filled with piles. Don't believe me when I say piles?

Girl means piles.

It looks like Hobby Lobby was taking a walk into the woods and decided to leave a trail of art supplies through my living room so she could find her way back to Franklin without getting lost in Antioch with no cell phone reception or flashlight after dark.

I have too many checklists running right now. Things I want to bring, things I still need to make, artwork I want to display, etc. My booth has not been built, but Mr. Hagen is working on that so I don't have to think about it. Mr. Hagen is also trying to switch shifts at work so he can help me set up my booth and drive me to the craft fair because I am still without car. And he needs to switch because, think about it, he is SCHEDULED TO WORK on Saturday. When I need his arm muscles and math skills (counting change is not really "my thing") and moral support.

So let's recap. Messes, lots of "unfinished" things, no car, no booth, no certainty on whether or not I have Dave's assistance on Saturday, no idea what I'm going to wear yet (which is normally what I obsess over before this kind of stuff), and the blatant fact that it's really my own doing and really my own habitual procrastination at fault. I actually wasn't even stressed until I started writing this blog post. Please excuse me while I find a paper bag.

Birthday Girl

Yesterday was my birthday. The evening was spent with my wonderful husband, a sampling of my sweet friends, some delicious sushi, and frozen yogurt. It was a great evening.



1. This is not a good picture. 2. This is not a good picture of any of the people IN the picture. 3. Do you see how beardy this husband has become?! (He's the one on the right, in case you don't recognize him under all of that hair.)

Feels Like Home

If you're here for Pin it Forward, welcome welcome! Pull up a seat and stay awhile! My name is steph. I'm just learning to call myself an artist and this little blog is where I pretend to also be a writer.

If you're a regular here and you have no idea what Pin it Forward is, let me do a quick explanation. Bloggers like to be friends with other bloggers, and this a way we can do that. Victoria of sfgirlbybay and some kind folks from Pinterest got together and decided that a bunch of bloggers should create a chain that gives a little glimpse into what home means for a big bunch of bloggers. One person passes the pinning torch to the next, and there it goes, on down the line. It's pretty cool. Now it's my turn to talk about what home means to me.

Home is very much a figurative thing for me; in fact, home has to mean something a little different. And I don't mind that one bit. This crazy thing happened to my family when I was in the 7th grade which sort of forced us out of our home with little notice. I affectionately call it "the homeless year, " a title my parents are not so affectionate towards I'm sure. But when my brother and two younger sisters and I sit around and talk about the memories we have from that time, it's all happiness and hilarity from cabin balconies. We had plenty of places to stay: grandma's farm, the aforementioned cabin by the lake, a couple of houses that friends were trying to sell, and so on. It was more of an adventure than a misfortune. So the idea of home means lots of things to me besides houses.

Thanks to Nicole from Three by Sea for passing the torch to me, and tomorrow, go visit the really pretty Mae Photo + Design blog for her idea of home.

My Papa

Father's Day was yesterday and that means Father's Day is on the blog roll for today. If you know my dad, you know that he's awesome. If you don't know my dad, you totally should.

When my dad left the staff at my home church in Missouri, something really cool happened. There was a big party for him on his last Sunday. They had Nascar cupcakes and loud music. It was super awkward for him, because he is in no way a limelight type of guy. He'd rather sit in a canoe on the lake for hours all by himself. But what went down that Sunday will always be one of the coolest days of my life, I believe. An hour or so into the party, people started lining up, unplanned, to talk to my dad and the rest of the family. They began telling us stories about how awesome he was basically. Stories about how he was strong in a situation that needed strength, stories about how he said just the right thing when something needed to be said, stories about a funny situation, stories about a child he helped turned into an adult, stories about the music he played at church that brought them to a place they desperately needed to be. My dad is cool - and other people know it. I was in tears most of the morning as other people were. It was such a moment of clarification for me. As an adult you learn to appreciate things about your parents that you can't when you're younger. I learned so much about my dad. He is the man that other men should aspire to be. He's kind, he's giving, he's gracious to no end, he is smart and talented, he is the dad that all other dads should be measured by. I mean that.

Papa,
I know this makes you uncomfortable because you don't believe most of this stuff. But that's just one more thing about you that's awesome. You have taught me humility in a way that I can't learn from the rest of the world. I've said before that one reason I can trust in a God that is Abba and loving and just and strong is because I have a dad who is the human version of that. Thank you for being a leader to our family. Thank you for riding shopping carts through the parking lot and making cow noises when we drive past a farm. Thank you for not caring about "stuff" and teaching your kids that stuff is nothing compared to the love of a family. Thanks for teaching me how to spit sunflower seeds and showing me how to take off a rabbit's pajamas. Thank you for listening to and giving your lunch to that kid in my 5th grade class that didn't have a lunch during the field trip to the Renaissance Festival. Thank you for being a dad that we never once had to question. And never once had to make excuses for. You said something to me on my way out the door to a party in high school. "Remember whose you are." I know that you didn't mean you - you meant Christ. But remembering that I'm your daughter is pretty great too.
I love you so very much,
Squirt

Oops

Driving home on Wednesday, I was in my very first real-life car accident. I came over the top of the hill and CRUNCH. There was a guy stopped at the top of the hill. And I tried to tuck my little car into his trunk.

This was the only picture I could grab before they towed it off. The good news is, we expected my car to quit in the very near future anyway. (Read THIS post for more about that.) The bad news is, we hadn't actually done anything about that. So... I'm hitching rides for a bit.

Thinking about the next step is so beyond Dave and I right now. We can't afford a used car by paying cash, and we've never been "car payment people." Which actually is code for: we've never been "working vehicle people." Trying to trust that God will provide for us in some crazy unexpected way, like he always does. You'd think that with so much experience in that area, we'd be experts.

Campy

I'm doing my best to get ready for the NashVegas Craft Fair on the 26th. And by doing my best, I mean twice a week I decide to get some work done and end up doing one or two projects. I've finished a few new journals and a few paintings and I've talked over the booth ideas with Dave, who just happens to be a very handy carpenter. And one of those times where I decided to get some work done, I accomplished three very sweet and summery paintings, of which I am quite pleased. They're not quite finished... finishing involves power tools, and quite frankly, I'm a bit too lazy to do that part just yet.

This color combination is everywhere right now and I want to use it on everything. These phone pictures dont' really portray the colors right (at least not on this computer) but they're what I would call gray, mint, salmon, and neon yellow. Those colors remind me of sorbet, and anything that reminds me of sorbet is a good thing. Plus, these little wood squares feel very homey to me. They're very "Missouri summer vacation" or something. I'm tempted to title them, "The Herzogs take a trip to the swingin' bridges and eat doritos and shoot fireworks but end up not camping because it was too humid outside."

Bonnaroo

Friday at work, I'm minding my own business, going about the day like it was any other Friday, and I get a message from my friend Lillian (who has been mentioned on this blog many times.) She's like, "question. are you doing anything other than babysitting my kids this weekend?" and I don't think I am, so I tell her that, and she's all, "so do you want to go to Bonnaroo for free?" And I had a very large party with balloons and streamers and matching paper cups and napkins and I invited a clown to do magic and even bought a pinata, and then I had a heart attack and came back to life just so I could have another heart attack.

JUST SO YOU KNOW the extent of this... the following has been "tweeted" by me in the past several months, starting in February when they announced this year's lineup.

• #Bonnaroo is getting me so pumped. Already I'm excited about the Avett Brothers! I may HAVE to go. 11:27 AM Feb 9th
• hey @davemhagen forget that whole buying a running car or a house thing that we were talking about. I want #Bonnaroo tickets instead. :) 12:37 PM Feb 9th
• As if I needed another reason to envy the @Bonnarroo attendees - Conan is headlining the comedy stage. Thursday, March 11, 2010 10:53:02 AM
• I can't afford tickets to @bonnaroo but I got the app anyway... so my phone doesn't know how lame I am. Thursday, June 03, 2010 3:22:41 PM

And then I entered about 8 contests to win free tickets. And I said things like, "I hate everyone at Bonnaroo this year. Out of principle." And then on Friday June 11th at 10:37 AM, I tweeted,

• freaking out freaking out freaking out... FREE BONNAROO TICKETS FOR ME! freaking out freaking out freaking out Friday, June 11, 2010 10:37:16 AM

And thus began my journey. Turns out Lillian knows a guy who knows a band who had 2 extra guest passes. The guest passes meant, not only free Bonnaroo tickets, but it also meant probably a top 5 parking and camping spot out of all 80,000 people who attended, NICE bathrooms and free showers (though we had no soap or shampoo,) a special seating area w/ bleachers for two of the stages, a behind the stage pass to a lounge area w/ phone charging stations, much shade, semi-comfortable seats, hammocks (which we didn't get to use because of their popularity), and an up close view of some dreamy musicians. So So SO cool. This is who we saw, in order of appearance:

1. Heard Tenacious D while setting up the tent, didn't actually see them.
2. Steve Martin (who I love dearly) and the Steep Canyon Rangers
3. Tori Amos
4. Michael Franti and Spearhead
5. Kings of Leon
6. Langhorne Slim
7. Brandi Carlile
8. Circa Survive
9. Norah Jones
10. The Avett Brothers
11. Mumford and Sons
12. The Dead Weather
13. Weezer w/ a special guest performance by Julia Nunes
14. Stevie Wonder, you guys..... Stevie.Wonder.
15. We listened to a little Jay-Z, but didn't see him perform because I'm an old lady and I was too sleepy.
16. Ingrid Michaelson
17. Cross Canadian Ragweed
18. Regina Spektor
19. Against Me
20. And a tiny bit of Blues Traveler while walking back to the car. Enough to hear a couple, "and the HOOOOOK brings you baa-aaack"s. So glad I heard that. It was a great cap to a great weekend.

Here are some phone pictures from the festival. Dave had the real camera at the studio when I left on Friday afternoon, so you're all stuck with iPhone snaps. Because they're phone pictures and that's boring, I've used several apps to take these pictures. That's why they're not cohesive at all. Unfortunately I didn't get pictures of STEVIE FLIPPING WONDER or Ingrid Michaelson.

That glowing angel in the middle of the stage is my good friend Steve Martin. I'm pretty sure I was smiling like a goober through the whole set.


I got the closest to the stage for the Brandi Carlile set. She's kind of a big deal to my family. She's all kinds of talented. Even though it was 97 degrees outside and the head index was approximately face melting surface of the sun, she gave me goosebumps. She seemed so kind and cheerful during her show. I totally want to be her friend.
This is Kings of Leon. They had quite a production. Fire, lights, etc. Much rock was brought to the stage.

You may notice in this picture that my feet are much pinker than the rest of me... sunburn, friends. They are also blistered, sore, swollen so very very much, muddy, covered in heat rash, and happy as can be. These feet hobbled me around to some really awesome stuff this weekend. Thanks feet. You really have put up with a lot in the past couple of months. And thanks to Lillian for thinking of me when she heard of the free tickets. And thank you to Lillian's connections for being my new favorite people in the whole wide world. And thanks to Bonnaroo for being so stinkin' cool.

If You Know, You Know

I am completely aware that this post is not meant for everyone, so feel free to just stop reading if you're a little sick of me talking about babies (at least 90% of you.) But that's what I'm feeling at the moment and that's what I'm going to write about. There's your get out of jail free card.

Also, you should know that I'm actually in a good place this week emotionally. A place I can't confidently say I've been over the past few weeks, but I'm here now - I feel healthy and relatively stable - and that feels good and it feels like relief and it feels like hope.

So this is where I am now: August marks the one year "anniversary" of when Dave and I decided to try to get pregnant. In the scheme of things, one year isn't much, and I know that. But what one year means to me is that some hovering date I was given by my doctor is just about here and we are encouraged to "investigate" any issues Dave and I may have because pregnancy hasn't happened yet. So, seeing that close approaching is scary and it's sort of overwhelming my life.

But before all of that is today. And today I have seen about 7000 examples of super sappy mommy talk. If you want babies - YOU KNOW what I'm talking about. There are several types of sappy mommy talk. There are the really annoying examples. Mom's who are really into letting everyone know how their lives are so much better because of their children, their kids are the sweetest and the cutest and the most snuggly and even when they're in trouble it's really no trouble because life is beautiful with their babies in their arms. It hurts me to hear those comments. Maybe you just happened to get pregnant during the same month I decided to try to get pregnant, and maybe you didn't realize that your brand new soft and perfect baby is just a reminder to me that maybe something is wrong with me.

Another example of sappy mommy talk: cute stories. These are honest and a much sneakier way of making those of us without kids feel badly. Moms don't mean to do it. I don't even want them to stop doing it. I really like hearing stories about how kids figured out how to shoot beads out of their nose, or how they ate an entire box of Oreo cookies while mama was in the shower, or how they somehow misunderstood the meaning of a word that turned into something really embarrassing in public. I really love hearing that stuff. Just not today.

But the very worst kind of mommy talk, for me, is the mom who just wants to complain about her children all day every day. How much she doesn't get a break. How the kids don't listen or how getting in the car is so much harder with kids. I understand that it's not okay to say to someone, "fine - if you don't want your kid, give it to me." That doesn't normally work out. We have all either experienced first hand, or heard MANY TIMES PLEASE DON'T SAY IT TO ME AGAIN that raising children is really hard work. Think about it... is there ever a moment in life that telling someone who has yet to experience something is just as eye-opening as someone actually experiencing something? We're not going to get that it's hard until we do it. You know that more than we do. So why keep telling us? Maybe you didn't mean to have kids and you were thrown into motherhood. Maybe your children really, honestly are hard work. Maybe I understand more than you know that not taking care of yourself before you take care of others is hard on a soul. Obviously I know that ranting sometimes feels really good at the moment, but I also know that it doesn't accomplish a thing. But I'm still totally going to publish this blog post.

I don't want to be that girl who nobody can be around because they're not sure what's allowed or what's totally off limits and may make her cry or make her super uncomfortable. I really am NOT that girl most of the time, I hope. Can someone vouch for me? I don't want you to be afraid to talk to me. Because 98% of the time, I want to hear about your kid and about your life and about your honest feelings. But sometimes... like today... everything baby or child related that I see or hear makes me sad or angry or jealous. Even if I'm in an otherwise healthy emotional state.

Mural, Mural On the Wall

When I was in middle school, I remember staying up very late one night listening to music in bed for no good reason apart from wanting to stay up late for bragging purposes. And while sitting on the bed, bored to death, fighting sleep, I started drawing pictures on the wall. For some reason, it didn't even cross my mind that I would get in trouble (a weird break from my normal "someone will be getting in trouble for this" mindset.) Luckily, I was right in that assumption, and did not get in trouble. I like to think that it's just because I did such a good job, but it's probably because my parents are really cool people. So all along the windowsill next to my bed, there were colored pencil flowers. I was really proud of that.

A few years ago, after my youngest sister moved into the room, we took it from sunny yellow walls with flowers along the window, to a vivid teal room with more upscale decor. At the time she was a firm believer in the, stick things everywhere there is a hole and never ever throw anything away, school of interior design. But she also was a believer in me as an artist. She and my mom decided that they'd like me to paint something on the wall. They trusted me, and I was proud of that too. So, I painted this.
And when I was finished I thought, "well I could get used to this whole painting on the walls thing."

Skip ahead a few years, and here I am again - painting on someone's wall. On Sunday, my very hip friend Lillian trusted me to paint a tree on her wall. My biggest mural to date! I kind of loved it.
And seriously, I could get used to this whole painting on the walls thing.

Old Soul

I have become utterly and entirely obsessed with old things, as you may have noticed by the last few posts. It started out as a mild love but it is taking over my life, friends. TAKING OVER MY LIFE. I must be secretly 90 years old and my parents just never told me the truth about my birthday because they were ashamed to admit that they, along with my grandparents and older brother, are over 100 years old. 'Fess up, mom and dad... I'm on to you.

Yesterday I so forcefully begged Dave to help me make this beauty out of some old wooden crates we found in a storage barn last summer. He was all, "but I've already worked two jobs today and I have a headache. I need to relax." And I was like, "what's not relaxing about building some vintage storage shelves for our living room at 10 pm when you have to wake up at 5 am the next day?" Also, sorry about the super terrible picture. It's a phone picture from 11:00 pm.

I still need to find junk around my house to fill these little shelves with. Since it's right above the giant bean bag we have (ugliest/most amazing thing in our house,) I need to find things that 1. won't impale people sitting below 2. wouldn't break if they fell off 3. will be awesome. And because I left Missouri this weekend with some serious "old stuff" loot, I've got lots of goodies lying around.

Here are some pictures from the barn I picked on Saturday. (Side note: this barn is not from the farm pictured in yesterday's post. Yesterday's farm was not for picking... just for visiting and photographing; that house is on my grandmother's side of the family. Today's barn is from my grandfather's side of the family.)

This very cool orange crate came home with me and is now in my living room holding shoes. It's got a divider down the middle, so there's a bin for the husband and a bin for me, and it's big enough for me to fit like 8 pairs of shoes. There's hardly anything I like more than kicking my shoes off when I come home. And as an added bonus, now Dave won't have to trip over my shoes in the doorway!
Oh heavens do I love a good typewriter. That loud click-clack click-clack is one of the best noises, right? This sucker hitched a ride home with me and makes 2 vintage typewriters in my possession. One from each side of my family - a neat white and teal one from my dad's side and this one from my mom's.This lamp got a nice deep scrub when it got to my house and now sits patiently in the closet until I have a nursery someday.

I actually squealed when I uncovered this, which I'm sure is a shock to you. There were about 5 little trays like this full of beautiful costume jewelry. I snagged 2 lockets, a red and gold necklace-bracelet-clip on earring set, a little garnet heart ring that is much too small for me but much to small to pass up, a beautiful gold and salmon colored cameo ring that DOES fit me, and a couple of other miscellaneous bobbles.
Knowing that these things came from my great-grandma Etta (in the blue suit) is definitely special. It means much more than finding all the old stuff my heart could want at the flea market. I just need to start building more storage for all these old things.

This Old House

I read a book once about a man who goes crazy. He lives on a commune with a rotating assortment of people and they do normal commune things, as I picture communes. They live off the land and stay up late playing music and talking philosophy. The book is extremely interesting, as it's a true story of schizophrenia, but one thing that kind of puzzled me about the book was the description of the farm. Every time they mentioned something new about the house or the yard, almost every description made me picture this place.

This is my great-grandma's house. It's in Northeast Missouri in the middle of miles and miles of farm land. My family used to come here every now and then, after my great-grandma had passed away, and I was always completely intrigued by the house. We weren't allowed to open closets or go upstairs. We weren't allowed to go too close to the pond in the yard or swing too fast on the porch swing. As a kid, this place was a giant mystery I wasn't able to unlock. It has a different sort of smell, different feels, different bones and every new thing was exciting in some way.

Three years ago I came here for the first time in probably 15 years; but I didn't get the chance to explore the house in a way I had wanted to. It was still fascinating, but I still couldn't really dive in to the history.

This past weekend I got to revisit the house again - this time with just my dad. We quietly walked through the house like we were time travelers almost, afraid to touch something for fear of disturbing the space-time continuum or stepping on a butterfly and waking up a baby in China. Nothing is modern there. Apart from our clothes and my camera, I may have been the youngest thing in the house. It looks like it's been untouched for years. I love everything about it. I love the peeling wallpaper, the beehives that have been built in the walls, the silo in the backyard, the blue tiled bathroom, the lace curtains upstairs, the stack of old records - Johnny Cash and June Carter, of course - the creaking floors, the rattling door knobs, everything.

I want to stay up until 4 in the morning with a group of very close friends in this house. I want to learn to cultivate a garden and play the guitar and for Dave to grow a giant beard in this house. I don't know what it is about the farm that makes me want to suddenly abandon TV and air conditioning and possibly my iPhone... still deciding about that one... and go back to a time that I was never actually able to experience. But the longer I sit and think about it, the more I want to sit on the floor in the living room and become a crazy, schizophrenic hippy discussing the meaning of life.