L: what’s up, doc?

I’m currently looking at different types of credit cards. Cause, ya know, I’m old enough to have one. weirdweirdweird.

I’m also sitting at a desk in a bed and breakfast that I’m running this weekend. I’ll be hosting 8 guests at one point. ca-razy.

I’m going to a teachers luncheon tomorrow. Cause I’m teaching an art class at CFA for kids who are a year younger than me.#whaaa.

…and that’s my life right now. What are you up to?

L: Different Kinds of Happy.

There are different kinds of happy. And these last two days have been filled with lots of happy. Happiness makes me feel spoiled. It’s very different from joy. Joy is something you choose and happiness is something extra. My two days have been filled with extras. I’m so blessed.

Yesterday, I drove to a gorgeous cemetery, had a pretty view, and sat on a bench staring at the fall leaves and sky. I talked (out loud)(while alone)(a stranger walked near me and I didn’t realize it… awkward) with God for quite some time.

I got new shoes the other day. They reflect things. Mostly, they reflect the sky and the sun which are two of my favorite things in nature.

I sat in an office this morning with my big sis. She’s teaching me things about her job because I’m going to be working there. But the best part right now isn’t necessarily the job; it’s that I get to spend so much time with her before she moves away. I love her a lot.

I got my braces off. Happy cannot even partially express how I feel. More like ecstatic, giddy, and grown-up.

My life has changed — quite a bit! — since I last wrote but I am so excited. I’m so looking forward to starting a job, having a “life”, and serving Jesus. Does it get any better than new shoes, time with family, and a God who loves me a ridiculous amount?

C: Favorite Things

Some of the things that I love:

1. An Anthropologie mug from #1 Sister. It’s a favorite.

2. Sally Hansen “Nude Shimmer” nail polish. I’m in love with it.

3. A Pumpkin Spice candle. It is welcome to the cavern at any time and highly appreciated.

4. Burt’s Bees — my life saver.

Diana Krall [yes, I like her "man" voice -- so kill me]:

My squishy Bear-Bear.

L: Music for my soul.

I have quite a few pictures to share with you from my trip! Unfortunately, I’m not going to take the time (right now) to sort through the bad and the good to figure out which photographs to share. Maybe tomorrow I will be blessed with some time to do that.

For now, however, I’ll just share with you my current favorite songs. I go through phases and these are the ones I can’t listen to enough today. I just love them. Just FYI: they are listed in no particular order.

Schubert’s “Serenade” or “Swan Song” — this song makes me want to cry. Thus, I love it. Because that’s just how I work.

Muse’s “I Belong to You” — Queen meets Rufus Wainwright. I may or may not absolute love dancing to this song. One minute I’m all crazy weird and the next I pretend to be a professional ballerina. You know it.

Katie Herzig’s “Songbird” — it’s just cute. And fun. And quirky. Can one go wrong with those three things? I much prefer the studio version of this song but it’s not to be found unless one purchases it. Which I suggest you do.

Basia Bulat’s “Touch the Hem of His Garment” — this may just be one of my favorite songs. Ever. Ever, ever, ever, ever, ever. Did I mention ever?

And that’s about all, folks. That’s about all.

L: clothes.

Dear J:

Since you are not in the Cavern while I’m trying to get ready for a trip, I figured I’d bring packing TO YOU. Cause you know I love having someone else make the final decision for me. Or, well, a decision that I can agree or disagree with. Really, I just like having someone make a decision. I just neeeeeeeeed your opinion, por favor.

Dear people who are not J and are reading this:

I’m going to NYC this week. Me and my daddy are going to go watch Swan Lake be performed by the NYC Ballet. Then I’m headed to a runway show the next day. I’ve got to decide what to wear. I’m a hopeless mess.

Dear ALL:

I’ve only put three “looks” together but who’s kidding who? I could have another seven looks if I needed to. Who knows what I’ll end up wearing (it may or may not be one of these outfits… I dunno, girlfriend!). Here are my first three ideassssss.

Look numero uno: (if it’s on the chillier side, which I doubt it will be, I’ll be wearing this with a couple of necklaces or something)

these are my most favorite shoes. EVER.

Look two: (which I have entitled, “Am I from the 60s or the 20s?” because I can’t tell which one it is)

with weather protector (sweater)

without weather protector (it’s now on the floor)

these necklaces are all from a dead person I don’t actually know. Does that make me a creep?

Look 3: Patterned til all get out.

And I swear that mirror is clean. I think it’s just so old that it’s got these dents in it which make it appear dirty. And I hate not making faces when I’m taking a picture of myself. How do people take themselves seriously when they take pictures of their OWN faces??

Anywhoozles. Tell me which one you like best. NOW.

(welcome to normal life with L)

C: One more par-tay

J left yesterday for New Haven, Connecticut.

She’s starting a new season all by herself in a new place with new friends. She will have a good time, I just know it.

This is how she spent her last evening at home – throwing a football and then cutting it in half to make hats… we’re brilliant like that.

This is me with my “football pose”. I don’t ever throw footballs so this whole thing was pretty new to me. I know. I look totally legit, don’t I? haha. Yeah. (note our messy room because J was packing, which apparently means putting every item on the floor somewhere)

J cut the football in half and made us some hats — so of course we acted like retards.

We turned the hats inside-out and put the superhero masks on –

And then we lost it because we thought we were just SO FUNNY.

But don’t worry –

We”re saving the world, one short bus at a time.

C: I’m feeling fuzzy

This is what my nightstand looks like:

Tissues, hot drinks, and candles to make me feel better.

I feel like Kathleen Kelly in You’ve Got Mail. Only I know for a fact that I won’t be receiving daisies from Tom Hanks in a cute New York City apartment — talk about a let-down.

A while back I had said something about rainy days and drinking tea, or in my case, not drinking tea because I don’t like it. In return, a few people commented with different tea suggestions. I’m trying one right now…

Earl Grey with honey and milk.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

Right now I’m using this video as my entertainment. Who wouldn’t? You get to laugh at L messing up the dance with her partner and me trying to dance with our still-growing little brother.
One night, I stayed up way too late watching and laughing L mess up the dance. Cruel? Maybe. But it sure is funny.

Look for L in the pink floral-like shirt and her partner attired in a blue superhero shirt with basketball shorts.

L: melancholy funk, for realz.

Alright, I got enough teasing about my “melancholy funk”. Some of you don’t believe it to be true (I guess the ridiculous amounts of giggling, screeching laughter, and continuous wearing of lots of colorful clothes gives me a slightly different image). Well, peeps, you’re going to believe it. I am going to make you suffer through some of the melancholy abuse my journal sees every day. You know it, girl.

(end of silly/happy mood)

Anniversaries are generally good things. We celebrate holidays, birthdays, the beginnings of churches, marriages and the like because anniversaries literally are a day to celebrate whatever happened on that day however many years ago. I get that and I’m happy to participate in the good that anniversaries produce. I like celebrating birthdays (for other people. Me, not so much), I like holidays, I like taking a day to remember how long my church has been around, I like it all.

But the other day there was an “anniversary” in my life that I have to recognize. It’s not a joyful anniversary. It’s the kind of anniversary that when I told J about it, she said, “Oh. Sorry,” and made this strange contorted face and told me I had both her sympathy and anything else I needed that day. Oh, yes, there’s something that happened in my life long ago that will never be a joyous thing no matter how much God continually turns it around and somehow uses all my brokenness to bring people to Him.

This was the 9th anniversary. Officially half of my life lived since this thing happened. For the first time, I wasn’t at home trying to fake my happiness and hide my tears on this anniversary. You see, I was in Schoharie Valley shoveling mud out of a lady’s basement. Friday morning I woke up knowing full well what that day really was to me and continued with my happy attitude as usual and got right to work. I shoveled bucket after bucket of mud and thought about how fitting it all was. 9 years ago, my heart, which housed all the happy memories of my childhood, was flooded and nearly everything good was taken away. I was left with my own kind of mud: hate, anger and wounds I refused to let heal. It took years — years! — for anything to start changing but after 9 years, I feel like the mud is finally all gone.

I found myself challenged a few weeks ago to tell more of my story. I thought about it and thought about it and came to the conclusion that lots of my story still can’t be shared because I’m not the only one that’s involved. I want to tell my story — the WHOLE story — with almost all the details but the time hasn’t come for such things. Instead, you get the watered down version of it. Maybe one day I will be able to tell you the whole thing. Maybe.

(and because you’re getting a semi-full effect of a journal entry, a bunch of post scripts would be there. I’m always writing more but never full entries. It’s stupid, I know)

P.S. Schoharie Valley was badly flooded a week ago. Badly.

P. P. S. Yes, I did do very weird things at for a while. Burying a baby doll, because I “killed” her, is something I did. Apparently, my weirdness has ALWAYS been around. And, yes, if things had gone differently, I’m pretty sure I’d be a serial killer. Legit.

P. P. P. S. The person I once was still scares me sometimes. I’m glad I just laugh really loudly now and that’s about all that’s truly terrifying.