Amidst tears and word cards

I'll admit, most of my students are enigmas to me.  Having only been on the job for a few months, and noting that this is a very different population than I'm used to working with, I spend a good bit of time learning to communicate with my students and then processing what I've learned.

Today was no different.  There is one student who has sporadic attendance in our program, and would rather choose to constantly run around, do cartwheels and turn circles rather than do homework.  My boss had a meeting with his teacher and mom today [I would have been there too if I hadn't gotten up late...oops] and I gained a little more insight into his life.

There is a slew of challenges going on in this child's life both at school and at home, and getting the background made the daily grind a little easier.  After getting the run down on the meeting, I spent the better part of my day making word cards.  He is surprisingly good in math but struggles in reading and spelling.  LA [my boss] and I hoped that by making letters cards and word matching, he would be more apt to study.  We hoped that giving him something to move, something to put his hands on, would entice him a bit.

Today was not his best day, and about an hour into program he was frustrated and crying [and it wasn't even related to homework!].  After a little coercion, he finally worked with me on the word cards.  There is a lot of work to be done, and I do not have a hard time envisioning more frustration and tears, but he seemed to enjoy the work.

I'll admit - working at my computer all day and putting together these activities for him was tedious.  By the end of it my shoulders hurt, my legs were restless, and it felt like I had wasted a day doing nothing but cutting paper.  For the last few weeks I've been working on individualized activities for my students to do once they finish their homework.  With more than 25 students in 9 different schools, I've been spending a lot of time in front of a computer.  The work seems to be never ending and I didn't realize how tiring it can be.

But watching him work today was the reward.  I wasn't sure he would be on board with the activities but he seemed to enjoy them [as much as he could in his current emotional state].

There are so many things going on in the lives of my students, and sometimes I forget they are just kids.  I'm still learning a ton every day, but I'm lucky enough to have students and a boss who give me grace each day as I fumble my way.  I know there are more long days ahead, more mistakes, more tears and frustration [from my students or me?].  But I know it all works for good, and I hope I get some insight one day into the long term effect.

The meaning of [my] life

I've been doing a lot of self-searching lately, trying to figure out where I want to be in a year.  Where I could, realistically, be in a year.

I just moved into this apartment.  I like its location.  I just started this job, and I [usually] like going into work every day.  So why am I looking ahead; why am I thinking of moving on already?

For many years, I have seen myself leaving town and moving abroad.  It's only been in recent years that the dream has begun to be fleshed out, but I still lack the courage to go.  It's a scary thing, especially when you've lived your whole life in one town.

What if I go to a country where I don't speak the language?  How do I open a bank account in a new country?  Can I even work for wages?  What would it be like to uproot every significant relationship I've ever known?  Everyday things would be new - laundry, cooking, getting from one place to another.  And don't even get me started on the idea of my travelling alone, as a single white female.  The idea of completing ordinary tasks seems exciting and new, giving me a chance to marvel at the simplest of things.  But without warning those same tasks can change to objects of paralyzing fear.

But it seems that everywhere I turn, particularly in church and small group, I keep getting the same message:


Go.  Love.  Be.  Travel.  Orphans.  Fear not.


And yet I fear.  Still I doubt.  Is this really where I am called to go?  Is this really who I am meant to be?

Last week, an interesting idea was presented in our small group.  The quote -

"We were created to glorify God"  [John Piper I think although I can't be positive]

What would it mean to embody this idea, to really live it out every day?  I know that the work I'm doing now is meaningful [actually, it's pretty close to what I would want to do as a career.  I think I only want my location to change].  I also know that one's calling is not necessarily the same thing one does as a vocation.  So why do I still feel so called to go?

That same night, a second question was posted.  This is not the first time I've been presented with this inquiry, but it's not one I find terribly realistic so I've never truly considered it.


"What would you do if you knew you could not fail?"


[Who can imagine a world without failure?  Failure is always a possibility, a scary one.]

What would I do?  I would travel the world, write, create art and not worry about how it's not perfect right away.  I would work with orphans, see and do things, leave a notable mark on the earth and the lives of its inhabitants.

And then tonight, a final thought, related to our small group study of John 6:1-25.  Mission [the work and opportunities we are given by God to accomplish, partnering with Him as His kingdom is realized, whether or not we choose to accept them] precedes faith.  Contrary to our belief, we don't have to have a certain amount of faith before setting out on mission with Jesus.  We don't have to have certain skills perfected; we don't have to have it all together.  Faith is the expectation that God will show up.

Perhaps my calling is not overseas.  Perhaps I am called down the street, to the orphaned of this community.  Perhaps I am called to a community in another state.  I don't know yet [does anyone ever know for sure?], but I'm eager to find out.

Running after You

I know that there is a God shaped hole in me. In my life, in my soul, forever present until I fill it with the only One who can fill it. And it's funny, until Sam and I started doing whatever it is we're doing, I didn't know how to fill it. I didn't know what it meant to be pursued, to accept pursuit, although I knew my God had been pursuing me for sometime now (and continues to do so). But part of me still feels like something is missing. I am taking active steps, pursuing Him in return, and I suppose I shouldn't expect an overnight transformation. Nothing worth having happens overnight (except maybe a baby, haha). I still look to other things to make me feel like a whole person, to make me feel validated - my work, maybe a new degree, this boy I'm dating, see how well I balance all these things?

For the longest time I had stopped looking for someone to share my life with, partly because of disappointment and discontent with the "dating" scene, partly because I already have enough on my plate I couldn't possibly make time for something else. (Also, I recognize that saying I stopped looking "for the longest time" at age 25 really isn't all that long. But, in my defense, the last boy I seriously dated was 5 years ago - that's a long time, right?) Then Sam was seemingly dropped in my life. And while our relationship thus far has been, at times, very far from fairy tale, it has also shown me a lot about what it means to trust another person and God. Embarking in a long distance courtship means I have to take what he says at face value; I have to trust him and his word. And he has to do the same with me.

It works the same with God. I have to take him at His word and trust Him, not just in the areas that are comfortable for me, but in all areas. And it's hard. And it's a choice - every day - to deny the things the world tries tells me about who I should be and how life should be. And slowly, very slowly, I'm working on this long distance courtship with my Savior.

Silent Spectators

The Word became flesh and

made his dwelling among us.

-John 1:14

But you are not alone in this

And you are not alone in this

As brothers we will stand and we’ll hold your hand

Hold your hand

--“Timshel,”  Mumford and Sons

Two are red.  These tall patent leather ladies take me to networking events and nights on the town and often accompany a black-and-white striped dress for an added touch of color.  I have two that are orange and they might be my favorite even though they are a little too small.  In a style that never goes out, they compliment my dark jeans and carry me through lots of days at work.  I even have two that I’ve had since high school – old white ones that have tasted the dirt of four countries and countless miles of treadmill.  While I have lived in all these moments myself, the perspective my shoes have to offer would surely be different than my own.  After all, they can look around, see and smell and be aware of things that escape me while I’m engaging in whatever activity I’ve chosen.

Have you ever thought about where your shoes have been?  Coffee shops, kitchens, vacations, cars, bathrooms, bars, sidewalks, festivals, work, dates, the gym, restaurants (and that’s just a few!).  Almost everywhere you go, your shoes go also.  Think of all the things they’ve seen, smelled, heard and touched – the good and the bad. 

Before my trip to Ethiopia, we were prepared for some of the hard things we would see.  I looked at pictures and read as many personal accounts of others’ visits as I was able.  I had a pretty good idea what the streets were going to look like – rocky, with dirt packed down from the weight of the people that walked them daily, littered with the contents of life.  I knew I would need sturdy shoes for the journey, ones that wouldn’t be afraid to face the elements but would also maintain their integrity when faced with some difficult challenges. 

I chose a sturdy pair of New Balance sneakers.  I’ve had these shoes since high school and they still are one of my favorites.  White with some pink accents, I haven’t seen these shoes on the market since I bought them.  They have travelled with me domestically and internationally and have gotten down and dirty in three other countries.  They have wandered through cow pastures in Ireland and explored an abandoned castle, spent time tapping along to music at a Nicaraguan elementary school, and walked every inch of a rubber floor at a medical mission’s clinic set up inside a small church in Ethiopia.  I am proud of these shoes, of all they have seen and experienced.  I hope to take them on many more adventures.

But I was thinking, before and during my time in Ethiopia, about the significance of these shoes in my life.  While planning my 10 day wardrobe, I was conscious of the ability to leave things behind, clothing and toiletries, to be washed and used by missionaries and locals in the area.  Many things I packed I did so with the intention of leaving them behind.  Shoes are bulky and hard to pack and many times I thought about leaving these beloved world travelers behind to make someone else burden a little lighter.  They are good sturdy shoes, comfortable, and would certainly be a blessing to anyone lacking any sort of protection from the elements.

I even thought about what it would mean to bring them home.  These shoes would have trudged through dirt and mud, trash and other things I’d rather not think about.  Would it be sanitary to bring them home?  I suppose I could always wash them, but would any contaminants linger?

In the end, those white sneakers came home with me.  I have not washed them.  I can’t bring myself to do it, too much of that country remains with me.  Come to think of it, I don’t think I washed them upon my return from any international visit.  I’m not worried about any lingering impurities, knowing that it’s not only microscopic pieces of this adventure that remain with these shoes but the memories of those I touched while wearing them. 

Today’s message in church came from Romans 10, verses 8 to 15.  Here are just the last few verses:

¹⁴ How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them? ¹⁵ And how can anyone preach unless they are sent? As it is written: “How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!”

Those shoes have brought some good news; news I’m probably not even aware of, presented in a way I never would have expected.  So today, I’m thinking about shoes.  Not just the money it takes to get them and how I am blessed to have different shoes to accompany me to different occasions, but also the impact going somewhere can make.  Think of all the places we go every day, all the impact we could be making in those places.  And the impact we are making, whether we realize it or not. 

So go. 

Let your shoes take you somewhere today, foreign or familiar, and make an impact.

Free as a bird!

I have a rare thing today:  a free Saturday.  Not just a Saturday, but a whole weekend actually.  Although I don't work, there's still lots going on.  On the list include:

• Night out with my good friend Tim - done!
• Shopping with Tim for new clothes - done!
• Closing out my Thirty One Fundraiser - done!
• Shopping for Ethiopia with Em
• Baseball game (second to last one of the season)
• Church on Sunday
• Meeting with two ladies about Ethiopia
• Fall kick off event at my other church
• Loving some kids at St. Johns
• Preparing for the week ahead
• Bowling and general merry-making with friends

There's also some not fun things on that list like:

• Clean the bathroom
• Vacuum
• Do the dishes
• Shop for groceries
• Figure out meals for the next week or two

So far, though, things are shaping up nicely.  Although I'm making sure to pack this weekend full of things I want to do, I probably really should take a small break and relax.  Starting next week, I'm training in another department at work, which will increase my weekly hours closer to 40.  I'm excited about it but it will leave less time for planning for after school, which is really my main focus these days.  Next week 20 elementary school students (in groups at least) are responsible for making their own snack, as well as getting along with each other and trying not to get swim privledges taken away from them.  Phew!

Sitting down to look at it all makes me feel busy but blessed.  Time to start checking things off that list - hopefully Irene doesn't have any remnants that ruin baseball plans (we're not supposed to get anything but I guess you never can tell).

Knight in Shining Sneakers

I've been dog sitting for the last week, staying in a strange house with a strange animal.  Things had gone as well as to be expected until Friday evening, when I experienced a fear previously unknown to me. 

Let me preface that, growing up, I did not live in a neighborhood.  Our driveway was uphill and gravel and few visitors ever arrived unexpectedly.  We did not have a doorbell, and aside from known guests, UPS men, and expected visitors, few people ever arrived on my doorstep.

Friday evening I had retired, light out, head on pillow around 11:30pm.  Something woke me just after midnight.  At first I thought it was a clock, marking the hour, but upon further consideration, I realized it to be the doorbell.  Nervous, I decided to stay in bed.  My logic was, "It only rang once, so if I don't answer perhaps whoever it is will move about their business."  Ten minutes later, it rang twice more.  Following that same logic, I remained in bed while my small furry companion began barking.  Maybe 30 seconds after the bell, I noticed headlights shining in the driveway, signalling what I hoped to be the visitor's exit.

At this point, I'm still in bed, watching the window with intent eyes, listening for signs of someone in or around the house.  The house I'm sitting at is at the beginning of a subdivision, the first house.  While it is situated in a neighborhood, it's still a bit far removed, and one would have to have the intention of arriving here, rather than accidently stumbling upon a house.  The driveway forks into two, one leading up to the front door, one going down and around to the basement.  I have never before noticed headlights shining into the bedroom window so I have no idea where this car would have been in order to achieve that illumination. 

Unable to sleep, I lay in bed, my mind racing, until almost quarter till 1.  I finally decide to get up and walk around the upper level of the house, listening and reassuring myself that all's well.  Everything checks out and I get back in bed.  Not five minutes passes and the headlights appear in my window again, followed by frantic doorbell ringing.  Terrified, I call my father, who says he'll come over and check things out.  I end the night in the master bathroom, door locked, on the phone with my mother, completely outside myself.

By the time dad arrives, the doorbell has been ringing constantly for 15 minutes or more, and I've come to the conclusion that it's malfunctioning in some way.  Dad removes it from its perch on the doorframe outside, as I sit in the floor to ensure our furry friend doesn't wander out of doors, and as he walks in with it, I notice he's wearing new white tennis shoes.  His diagnosis is that someone did push the button and it remained stuck, which caused it to ring insessently.

I will admit to little experience in dealing with true strangers.  I'll also admit to an extreme dislike of confrontation.  While I was braver than I thought I could be (just getting out of bed was a huge step), I still wish to be more bold and willing to protect what's mine instead of lying fearfully by.  Last night my brother and his friend did me a huge favor and stayed the night with me, bringing video games and laughter as protection.  Now it's my turn to learn how to be able to protect myself.

Thirty-two flavors and then some

Yesterday at 12:40 I walked out of my job for the last time.  While it was glorious and much needed, I will admit to missing the people (already) and being a little nervous about the new financial situation I find myself in.  But I believe it's better to be happy and a little strapped for cash than miserable with all the money in the world.

After I left work, mom and I went out for lunch, and I took her to a Mexican restaurant she's never been to.  We spent some time wondering around the mall, and when we were about half way through the journey we ran into her younger sister, who had stopped in to purchase some shoes for her husband for father's day.

Mom and I accompanied her to Finish Line, where I was hit hard with a realization.  Mom was looking at a pair of shoes when the sales person (a boy I went to high school with) approached her and started making his pitch.  The shoes mom was looking at were called Brooks, and apparently they can do everything but actually walk for you.  They have a thing in the arch that's supposed to stabilize your foot and make you walk straighter.  Then there's this button of air you can see on the sole of the heel that is supposed to adjust to the pressure on your feet when you step down.  The salesman talked for probably 3 minutes without taking a breath, just giving information about this high-tech, yet surprisingly normal looking shoe.

Credit

I wasn't really interested, so I started looking around the store and my upcoming trip to Ethiopia popped randomly into my head.  I thought of all the people in that country, and in the world, without shoes.  We're not talking shoes that adjust to your walking style or shoes to help you lose inches or shoes designed for a specific activity like walking or running.  Just shoes to keep your feet covered, protect you from the elements, maybe help you to be able to walk a few years longer.  Here I am, standing in a store with 25 bays of shoes, each of which probably has at least 20 single shoes on display.  That's 500 shoes on display alone.  That doesn't count the mates to those displays, or the various sizes stocked in the back, or the shoes on display on tables in the middle of the store.

My mind was blown.  I sat on a bench for a moment, trying to imagine what it would be like to be a person who had lived without shoes my entire life, and walking into a store like this. 

I couldn't.

Then my mind took it a little farther - this is just one store in the mall.  There are at least 3 other stores devoted solely to shoes in the mall, not to mention all the department stores and small chains that sell shoes too.  We could shoe an entire country without making a dent.

Realizations like this one make me incredibly sad and humble but blessed and motivated all at the same time.  There are so many days I go through without thinking about what I have, about all I've been given and privileged to, and I use those gifts to maintain or obtain my own selfish desires.

Does anyone else think about these things?  Surely I can't be the only one...

M.I.A.

Sorry I've been missing in action lately.  My six year old computer decided to kick the bucket last month so I had to wait almost three and a half weeks for my new one to arrive.  It set me back a pretty penny but it's one of those things that's (sadly) kind of hard to live without nowadays.

In other (more exciting) news, I put in my two weeks notice at work yesterday.  While I can't wait to be free of that place and the feelings I associate with it, it almost makes it harder to go in everyday and work until the 24th.  I'll be taking the last three days as PTO (making my final exit on the 20th) and laying myself by the pool on my self-declared 'mini-vacation' until I can get back on the schedule at the Rec center.  And I know that being by the pool will be much more enjoyable knowing I'm being paid for it.

I'm excited I took this stand for myself.  I'm a pretty practical person, and it was hard for me to make this decision without having something equal in terms of benefits and stability.  The Rec center can give me almost 40 hours a week for the summer between camps and teaching, but it won't be forever and there's no benefits.  But I'll find something.  I'll live.  And probably with a better quality of life than I've had for the last few months.

Lately I've been feeling really sad (like sad enough that just thinking about work nearly brought me to tears waiting in the doctor's office on Tuesday), and not up to par physically either (no relation to the doctor's visit).  But what got me down more than anything was my lack of a spiritual life.  Not being able to attend church regularly has been really hard for me, and that is certainly the part of my new schedule I'm looking forward to the most.  I'll admit though, I will miss getting off at 4:30 everyday as a guaranteed thing. 

Last night was really the first night I've felt like myself in a long time.  Bekah and Sandy and I went to the eighth grade graduation of some of the middle schoolers and it was wonderful.  There were lots of laughs and witty comments, and I felt like I was speaking up and holding my own in a way that I've missed lately.

I'm excited to see where this goes, and this re-introduction to my freedom is perfectly timed for summer adventures.  Cheers to change.

What a weekend

This weekend has been an adventure in cooking, and by weekend I really mean Friday evening/Saturday morning, since that's pretty much all the weekend I get these days.  I arrived at the apartment Friday night a little disappointed, as I had originally planned to hit the gym after work but had forgotten to charge my iPod (any excuse, right?)  Em was working late and that was all I'd plan to get into, but once I was home I really didn't see the point in leaving again and going back the way I came (gas prices - another excuse).

I had made chocolate chip muffins the other night after work and found the exercise surprisingly relaxing.  I've always wanted to be able to cook from scratch and I felt a little like Julie and Julia (you know, cube job, cooking...we're the same).  I pulled out my cookbook and flipped to "Appetizers/Snacks," which I figured was a good place to start since it was nearly 6pm and I hadn't even thought about dinner.  I found an easy recipe for hummus, which I've had a few times but am still trying to reach that I-love-it level.

Looking at the ingredients I discovered I owned a grand total of 2 (out of 10), so as it turns out a trip to Kroger was in order.  A few of the things on the list alluded my grasp, one of which was lemon juice which ended up being in the juice aisle of all places.  The other was something called tahini (pronounced tah-HE-knee).  It's a sesame paste, and the cookbook said it was

"...widely available in supermarkets.  Your best bet is to search the condiment aisle or the ethnic food section of the store - but if you don't have any luck, don't be afraid to ask for help." 

So, three associates and five aisles later, we finally found the elusive tahini in the Mediterranean section.  (This is after I took a fair amount of time reading all the S's and T's of every brand of condiment in the condiment aisle). 

I finally made it home with my $30 worth of spoils.

Buying the ingredients was by far the worst part, and the making of the hummus just included putting it in a blender, moving the knob to the 1, and waiting until smooth.  Golden.

Friday night I also had my first experience boiling eggs (lame, I know).  I was a little worried because I like to be sure things are cooked completely and you can't do that with boiled eggs.  Things did turn out well, and when I cut though them things were solid so I was pleased.  I preceded to use two of them to decorate my salad (which I ate from a mixing bowl) when I finally had dinner at 9pm.  And I got a pretty sweet picture of my eggs before they met their hot water end.

Saturday Em and I tried our hand at smoothie making.  I had gotten most of the ingredients already, and I'll admit my motives were selfish, as I hate to waste money but was afraid my yogurt would expire before I wanted to eat it.  Smoothies are perhaps the easiest things to make...ever.  Again, it was really a question of putting things in the blender and pushing go until it's smooth.  (Kyle gives the best presents).

Not my smoothie

Although this isn't a real life photo, our drinks were pretty tasty and Em and I got to spend the morning together.  We're cute.  Then we both went to jobs we tolerate and didn't see each other until she was running out the door Sunday morning without her keys.  All in all, a very good weekend.

30 before 30

To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else.  ~Emily Dickinson

It's finally here, my 30 before 30!  This is something my real life friend at emyselfandi started last year and, without having a blog to post to, I particpated in spirit.  But now I have a blog and something to keep me accountable.  So here we go:

1. Grow my hair to my waist
2. Learn to play the cello
3. Milk a cow
4. Swim with dolphins
5. Go to Mardi Gras
6. Organize my photos and scrapbook as appropriate
7. Take a road trip across the country 
8. Keep a regular journal and write in it at least once a week for a year
9. Take a digital photography class
10. Help build a house
11. Attend a multi-day music festival like Bonnaroo or Warped Tour
12. Learn another language
13. See the Arnolfini Portrait in person
14. Read one book every week for a year
15. Learn to paint
16. Go to the Kentucky Derby and wear a big hat
17. Go to the Olympics
18. See the Aurora Borealis in person
19. Attend an Indian wedding ceremony
20. Visit Haiti, Italy, and Africa
21. Take a dance class at a studio in New York
22. Learn to crab and then use my skills
23. Drive the entirety of the Pan American highway
24. Spend time working/volunteering in an orphanage overseas
25. Ride in a hot air balloon
26. See all the classic movies in AFI's top 100 movies
27. Fly by myself
28. Go on a cruise
29. See street art being produced
30. Build a piece of furniture

Here's the link to Em's blog - check her list out too!  Want to play along?  Leave a comment with a link to your list (or the list itself).

Happy living!


Love [begins] blind

Last night provided a much needed break from my normal routine.  Instead of attending a meeting or get-together of some variety (like I did literally every night last week), I spent the evening chatting it up with a stranger on a blind date.  He's not a total stranger I guess, but rather a co-worker of one of my good friends who treated me with drinks and dinner.  We gallivanted downtown, played some pool (where I proved myself a worthy opponent), and delved into some pretty intense conversational topics.  And I was out past my bedtime.  All in all a good night.

It was exciting meeting up with someone I didn't know (and who I'm fairly certain I'll never see again, seeing as how he's headed up north for a new job tomorrow), and of course it's always nice to get to talk about yourself with someone you don't know.  You get that chance to present yourself in your best light, omitting some things and making yourself seem as you wish you were.  Not only did the evening present me with a chance to meet someone new but I also tried some new things, including calamari and mixing jack and ginger ale (both good choices).

While it was a successful evening and I had a good time, there were some topics we clearly disagreed on (topics I'm not willing to bend with).  But I think it's ok, maybe in some cases better, to be able to more readily describe undesirable qualities in a mate than something you'd enjoy.  I know what I'm not looking for, but whoever I'm fortunate enough to share life with will surely have qualities that surprise and delight me daily, qualities I didn't even know I wanted in a husband.

It was refreshing to be pursued, albeit for a short time, and treated to a night out.  Here's to another life experience, another story to tell.  (On that note, I promise that 30 before 30 list is coming soon!)

Back to Basics

Women usually love what they buy, yet hate two-thirds of what is in their closets.  ~Mignon McLaughlin

I'm on a mission to update my closet.  I feel like I have a more grown-up life now, living in my own place, working at my grown-up job (I discount the fact I could show up in sweat pants; even grown-up jobs need a little leeway), and need some "adult" clothes to show off my newly stated independence.  Of course, there's always that undeniable fact that my closet space has shrunk by approximately 2/3rds.  It might look like I'm complaining but really I'm ecstatic.  I've been wanting to simplify for sometime now (clothes as well as other facets of my life), and having reduced space is just the swift kick I need.

The goal is to buy some solid pieces for spring/summer to update my wardrobe, throw out some stretched out tee's, and not dread getting dressed in the morning. I need things I can mix and match, and as Kat informed me the other day, I'm sometimes not so good at matching (I like to think that's done out of choice and not ignorance, although I'll sometimes admit to both).

Em has this relaxed but professional and put together sense of style I envy.  I'm hoping our soon-to-be shopping trip will allow some of her expertise to rub off on me.  I was that freshman girl in high school in wide-leg pants and extra large tee shirts and part of me has never truly outgrown that phase.  I like to be comfortable and will choose comfort over style any day (honestly, who wouldn't?).  Right now I'm sporting slightly worn straight-leg jeans, a black and green plaid zip down pullover with a hood, and a light blue three-quarter sleeve tee.  See, the epitome of fashion.

What sparked this not-so-sudden desire to change my outward coverings, besides the magical shrinking closet, was a short shopping trip with Kat on Tuesday.  We made a quick lap around the mall before heading to Marshall's, mostly to look at the housewares section and dream about decorating.  I had decided a few weeks ago I wanted this summer to be the summer of skirts and flowing, girly clothes.  Kat was present when I first made this declaration, so we headed to look at skirts and dresses.  Long story short, I bought two (going almost double on my spending budget for the day).  They are both longish, falling below the knee.  One is black and white with a geometric pattern and the other is blue with a gauzy overlay and large schematic flowers skirting the bottom.

[no pun intended]

It's probably a good thing I don't get many new clothes because I was almost late for work trying on different combinations to find something that worked together.  In the end I left feeling rushed and a lot less confident in this spontaneous purchase than I had hoped.  I don't feel like I matched at all, pairing the blue skirt with olive and blue Tom's, and a coral colored top.  Live and learn, right?  I guess growing up in your wardrobe can be just as hard as growing up in other ways.

Any suggestions on how to pair things together and make smart spending choices?  My friend Brit and I are going shopping tomorrow before celebrating her birthday with dinner, and while I doubt I'll purchase anything, I've learned it's not safe to promise such things.

Lessons on Friday?

When I first started this blog I had high hopes.  I wanted to write frequently and be totally honest about life and my view of it.  Seeing as how the first one has fallen by the wayside, let's move on, shall we?

Today I'm feeling moody, which includes (depending on when you ask me) hopeful, lonely, rejected, productive and expectant.  I always have high hopes for weekend time off, which comes so few and far between (and by that I mean once a week of course).  This Friday has been everything I haven't expected.  So what have I done today?  After I got off work I went walking for 30 minutes around the neighborhood, swept the balcony (finally ridding it of those fall leaves to fully welcome spring on Sunday), finished a book, started a second, reheated a leftover dinner from Tuesday night, finished the last of a bottle of wine, took a bubble bath, and finished the gifts I'll give to my ballet class on Monday.  All this in the span of 5 hours.  I've got the productive yet lonely feeling down pat.

It's not that I don't like time to myself, everyone needs it and I enjoy mine like anyone else.  But I seem to feel best when I have a lot going on, scheduled back to back with things to do and people to see.  Not to mention that Friday night does not seem like a natural day to have "me time".  I want to be out, seeing friends or having people over, but lately it hasn't seemed to work that way.  At least I got stuff done, and while I fear tomorrow night might be a close second to this evening, maybe I'll finally get those pictures hung in my room.

This is not meant to be a poor-me post.  I recognize that it's important to learn how to live with yourself and be still and rest.  I'm just not very good at it most of the time.  Here's to learning something new every day.