vintch

microscope heart: gina + a series introduction

2012-02-24T08:30:00.003-05:00

it's been a while since we've done a microscope heart post, and i can't think of a sweet person to bring it back than gina, my sweet friend from contemplating beauty. since meeting gina a few months ago, i've been blown away by her kindness, gentleness and heart for Christ. oh and she too has a fluffy white dog-->arrows to my heart immediately.

Thank you so much Courtney for having be a guest on your beautiful blog, it's humbling and exciting to share with all of you today! As most of you do, I adore Courtney and admire her writing so much! Courtney has been an amazing friend and sister in Christ in this blog journey, and I am thankful for her!

When Courtney asked me to write something for Microscope Heart, the simplest thing that makes me happy, I couldn't resist sharing about my pooch. His name is Nells, and here are a few fun facts about him:

-He is from a strip mall pet store (I think that's less common these days)
-He walks backwards (not regularly, but from time to time)
-He is Apricot color, I guess you could say he's a ginger (hehe)
-He loves BUTTER, and all dairy, he would do anything for it!
-He howls at the first Wednesday of the month sirens
-He is 75% poodle, and 25% Bichon

Nells warms my heart in so many ways. He makes me laugh and brings great comfort to me through many circumstances in my life. He's such a faithful friend, and eases my soul when it is heavy laden. It's incredible what pooches can do to lift our spirits, they add so much to our lives! I'm so thankful for God's creatures, especially my little 6 year old boy.

thank you, gina! be sure to check out her blog for more pics of nells. oh, and to read her beautiful posts too:)

and now, an announcement:

an exciting announcement: gina and i are partnering with morgan of mama loves papa for a five-week series on relationships. these ladies are so kind. they are sweet and communicative, and wonderful partners on this blogging journey.

this is a series on finding God in the hard times, praising God through the blessed times, and leaning on and learning from Him and each other during the times between. we will be tackling topics like communication, loving through the storms, and more.

starting next tuesday, we will be posting once a week. and we'll be posting link-ups for you to join, if you will. we hope you'll consider it and play along!

next week's series topics is: expectations: the ones you brought into the relationship. the ones you still hang on to. the ones you strive toward and the ones you threw away.

*and though marriage is a topic, we'd love to hear from everyone--single, dating, divorced, married, engaged, widowed. anyone. because i believe what my mama told me is true: the single most important thing that matters on this earth, second only to your relationship with Christ, are the relationships you form with the people around you.

have a beautiful, blessed weekend! xoxo

to everything, a season

2012-02-22T09:08:00.002-05:00

xxx

it is the journey of my life to find the answer. to seek to understand, wrap my little mind around, the tangible concept. it's why i study with flash cards and spend way too long mulling over quiz options. why i drive myself crazy with my cheek against the pillow at midnight, a million questions and thoughts and scenarios spinning around behind my eyes until finally the momentum is fast enough that i get dizzy and fall asleep. it's a never ending cycle of wandering, wondering and feeling around in the dark for that one moment when everything aligns and a second of comprehension reveals itself.

but last night i sunk into the bath and reversed, for a moment, my thought flow. or rather, my thought rush.

maybe it's the questions. the asking. the holding your head up to the sky and sending a request up to God. the rising early and gathering the blankets around your feet, brewing that first cup of coffee just to get your head right. the attempt -- goodness knows-- the blessed, sacred attempt. the days you wake up and think today will not be like yesterday and by mid morning you realize, oh actually, today is just like yesterday. but you push forward until nightfall anyway. for the fringe of hope that maybe, just maybe, tomorrow will be different. better. brighter. warmer.

and you keep searching and asking and yelling and rebelling.

praying and questioning and researching and reading.

and one day you understand you must be good enough to yourself to know when to stop. when to realize it's not the answer you need. not the new day or the different night. but just to lie in bed and hold you arms against your chest and breathe in the cotton and remind yourself that it's okay not to know. not now, not in a little while, maybe not ever. there's a reason for the gray. a season for the fog.

the blogscars: red carpet edition

2012-02-21T08:17:00.002-05:00

this post is alternately titled, "who knew i'd ever pull that prom dress out of the closet again?"

as part of the blogscars race, here i am in my best red carpet attire. in a highly typical setting. barefoot in the field behind my cottage. you know, just wearing a black velvet gown. you can find me in a similar scenario practically any day of the week.

i got that dress on a sale rack in the depths of a chicago filene's basement. with my uncle and mama. my uncle held it up and said, this one. it was insanely cheap and ralph lauren. and for two women from the south, those two concepts alone were enough to sell us.

i wore it with robert my senior year. the prom he came home from college to attend. we didn't go with anyone. for a couple torn apart by cities and time and too long phone conversations, we saw the prom as a date night and went to the fanciest steakhouse in town. our meal ironically cost more than my dress.

i'm not a fashion blogger, and rarely do outfit posts. but there's something to be said about dressing up once and again. even if it's just prancing around in the wet grass after work. about shaking one's hair loose from a tight bun and swiping on some ruby lipstick. of practicing a posed smile until suddenly, the sun begins to set and you catch a glimpse of someone you love behind the photographer and you realize, for the first time all day, you're not posing anymore.

the delicate dash: a guest post

2012-02-17T13:43:00.000-05:00

today i'm over at my friend cara-mia's space, i typed for miles talking about weddings. and marriage. and how they are both beautiful and holy and lovely. but they are different. and that's important to remember. enjoy your honeymoon, sweet friend!

a reminder at midnight

2012-02-16T08:44:00.000-05:00

the sight of my eyebrows in the bathroom mirror confirmed it.

the neat arches had given way to furry little blobs spawning renegade hairs, teetering dangerously on the verge of joining in the space above my nose.

the week after a vacation is always difficult. a delicate balance of catching up on sleep in one's own bed (one of life's greatest simple pleasures, i've determined), and fulfilling work and school duties that blissfully, momentarily fell by the wayside, replaced with sea salt, chicken tacos and late night movies.

it was midnight before i slipped into bed last night, and my eyes still held beneath them the glow of a computer screen. that little floating light that buries under the eyelids and sits stagnant, disrupting sleep like a full moon outside the window.

i shut the laptop, turned off every light in every nearby room, and showered in the dark. and as i breathed into the water and heat, my mind, muddled with terms and deadlines and obligations and dates, cleared for one second to allow me one conscious, concrete thought:

i am one person and this is one day.

it's just one. i won't solve anything alone and this day does not stand alone. there's only so much time and space one person can fill. it's the great ambition of our lives, to make the most of every day. to rise early and sink into the covers late, to get to the end of our days and say, i put everything i could into those hours. but perhaps a greater ambition is to let a few hours go by unattended. to sit on a porch swing. eat a frosty in the living room. listen to an entire CD. take a bath at two in the afternoon with the sun high above you like a spotlight.

together, we are incredible creatures, capable of wonderful things. but we're also one. sometimes that's enough. enough for today, enough for now.

forgive me sweet baby, but i always take the long way home

2012-02-14T08:54:00.000-05:00

it took us six hours to take a two-hour route home last night. this was to robert's chagrin and my utter, utmost delight.

we did not take the highway. that was my one caveat. we took wandering back roads that meandered past neighborhoods and diners and little boys on bicycles after school. we stopped to take long winery tours and visit the mount olive pickle factory. we held hands across tables with checkered tablecloths and sipped warm coffee late into the afternoon.

it could have been a straight shot down interstate 40. just one right turn and hundreds of miles of straight.

but then we wouldn't have seen the four deer in the meadow. and we wouldn't have been reminded how pickles are made (i say reminded because we watch the same 10-minute video twice a year. you get a free jar of pickles each, people. need i say more?)

we wouldn't driven past my dad's old high school, and taken a picture in front of the sign (go southern wayne fighting saints!) or have met the tour guide at the winery, who wore flip flops in february and spoke in a define, practiced surfer boy accent. who suggested we try this type of wine, then this type, then just for good measure, this type. who snuck us extra crackers and showed us a picture of the oldest grape vine in the world.

yes, we would have made it home before sundown. and our weary, traveling faces would have hit the pillows of our own bed before midnight. but the day of traveling home is still a day of travel. and that means a day of experiences. of getting away from screens. of blasting the heat in an old sedan and cranking up some country jams from the early nineties (doug stone, anyone?)

because putting off tuesday and the workweek ahead is part of why we take these little getaways. to act for a second like vagabonds with no real responsibilities. and a true vagabond would never take the road most traveled.

real love: in your words

2012-02-09T08:56:00.001-05:00

when i asked you to tell me one word for real love, you delivered.your responses were personnel and beautiful and meant the world to me, so i wanted to commemorate them.
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from us to you, happy valentines.

we're headed for a long weekend at the coast.

i hope you celebrate it by showing somebody, somewhere, the words you shared above.

xoxo

the importance of being second

2012-02-08T10:31:00.002-05:00

today i'm over at singing in the rain talking about my romance with robert. and why i come second in his life, and why i'm perfectly okay with that. please check it out and show jen some love! xoxo

a mama's duty

2012-02-07T12:55:00.000-05:00

because babies haven't graced our lives yet, i like to imagine pablo as my child. this means taking incriminating pictures of him in his rainy day sweater. i like to imagine showing these shots to his future mates, specifically the cat down the street toward which he has shown a particularly romantic interest. it's what mamas (who apparently have too much time on their hands) are for.

a question for you: moving past the beginning

2012-02-06T09:39:00.001-05:00

via

i wrote a paragraph on friday night.

it was succinct and short and simply an introduction. but i loved it.

the first five lines of the novel. the one i've put off for 24 years. the one i've been formulating and rewriting on napkins and old receipts, on word documents and the back of worksheets. the one that will compile and make sense of the senseless one-liners i've texted into my phone.

this is the story that will put words to the feeling i get in my gut when i hear a certain song at five in the evening with the sun beating down on the interstate.

but what followed was rubbish.

the second paragraph was just awful and i erased it immediately, almost embarrassed at the lines that flowed from my fingers.

so i have a question for you. you bloggers and authors. you painters. you etsy sellers. you early morning musicians and late night poets.

how do you continue? how do you push past the curse of the blessed first sentence? i'm afraid i've entered the party in my best dress and i can never make such a dramatic entrance again.

how do you turn back around, put on something else, and saunter back into the crowd?

-----

p.s. speaking of bloggers, my friend jen from singing in the rain is hosting a giveaway as part of her one year blogoversary. hop on over and enter to win a giveaway to my etsy shop!

here it come, that heavy love, i'm never gonna move it alone

2012-02-03T09:14:00.000-05:00

xxx

it takes a village.

i am a girl who delights in mornings alone. who rises with the sun and slips into a robe just to sit and stew over the hours ahead. i've learned to eat in restaurants by myself on my lunch break, next to men in business suits and construction workers with dirt on their knees. i am comfortable in an empty room, echoing house, and silent car.

but it takes a village to love. to share, spread, sprinkle the seeds.

driving to work today, i thought about the people around me. their commute. their coffee in drink wells, lipsticks in pocketbooks. was the woman stopped at the red light next to me wearing a new blouse? did she have children and if so, did it hurt her to leave them this morning? is she fighting with her husband or did she just kiss him goodbye? i turned my radio off and just watched. as mothers, sisters, husbands, uncles and boyfriends flew by me.

and i thought about all the chances, all the blessed opportunities, i have to love each of them.

to be kind. to smile. to let someone cut in front of me at the coffee counter. to consider the little burdens, boulders, and mountains they are forging through. to not question if the man on the corner is really hurting. that's one of the hardest parts, the not questioning.

it takes almost nothing for me to sit alone. to sink into a tub at the end of a long day and play my favorite songs in the comfort of my office.

but love means community. and from big cities to tiny hometowns, there's a village waiting.

last night, this morning

2012-02-01T08:45:00.001-05:00

love,

i used to think it was the church bells that were my favorite sound. sitting on the front porch swing at two in the afternoon when they'd ring from down the road. but last night, you rolled over in your sleep, and you let out the slightest puff of a sigh, and suddenly, that was my favorite. this morning, i sipped my coffee and wondered to myself if they were really all that different.

a southern analogy: leroy's tractor

2012-01-30T10:01:00.000-05:00

xxx

robert did some plumbing work last week for a man named leroy. and maybe it was robert's calm manner, or the fact that he just fixed his pipes, or that last week was unseasonably warm and bright, but leroy confided in robert. he sat and shared and told him about an incident.

leroy was pulling up a heavy root with his tractor one day when he pulled too hard. the entire machine toppled over and pinned him underneath. he was trapped until help came. as wheels spun and the engine roared. he emerged without one broken bone or scratch. he proclaims the greatness of our Father everywhere he goes now, praising Him for keeping him safe during those dreadful minutes. he talks to anyone who will listen, even plumbers.

and as robert was telling me this, i thought about all the weight crushing me, and i wondered how different my struggle really is from leroy's.

the tax information that keeps coming in the mail.
the school project due in april that is actually just one big, massive speech. that falls on my birthday.
the textbook reading.
pablo chewing his paws.
the technology exam guide collecting dust on my desk.
the dayplanner with scribbles on every single day.

we're all trapped under a tractor. we're all thrown occasionally. stuck in a rut as the tires rotate inches from our heads. there was one time i thought it would be funny to walk on a treadmill backward. i slipped and fell and was pinned against the wall with the belt still moving on my back. it was awful. and taught me that one should always move forward, and that things are designed to work in a specific way, for our good.

so we're all here together. pinned with weights on our shoulders. we don't know how big each person's tractor is. some are under tiny weedwackers. but some are under massive john deeres.

the analogy is cheesy. it's overused and a bit flat. but it's true.

this week, i resolve to be more like leroy. to trust that someone greater than me will pull me out of this rubble. this grave i've made for myself. we may not always emerge without scratches. sometimes we will bruise our own hearts. but the thing is, we will emerge. we do. because we're watched and cared for by someone who moves those boulders like they're tinker trucks. because it's not the weight of the burden that matters; it's the power of the lifter.

dear abby

2012-01-27T09:34:00.000-05:00

i'm driving to virginia today to spend the weekend with one my closest friends.

the one i met my first night of college, when she poked her head into my dorm room to introduce herself. hours later, i wrapped up in a blanket, walked across the hall and talked with her into the night. the one who sat with me as i laid on my twin bed in misery, two days into a break-up with robert. who put up with my late night study sessions, my part-time job at the newspaper, and my penchant for extra-fizzy cheerwine that would spew across our futon. who sat in the dorm basement with me every monday as we dove into the Bible, and slipped notes of faith and encouragement under my door in our apartment.

who rode overnight with me to the beach in robert's van, with the music too loud, sleeping on the sand, and two years later, made the trek to my hometown to be there when robert proposed.

she stood up with me at our wedding and i'm beyond honored to stand at hers in march.

congratulations, abby. let the bachelorette weekend commence!

today's blessing + a shameless plug

2012-01-26T11:32:00.002-05:00

there are some times it hits me that this world is okay. it's usually when i'm perched on my kitchen counter in the dark clutching hot coffee while the sun rises around the field in front of the window.

sometimes, it's driving on the highway and a kind stranger lets me in his lane. or when a man in a business suit and porsche gets behind me and doesn't curse me with his eyes because i'm driving slow.

when pablo looks at me with a face that says, i don't care what you did today. i don't care who you ignored or didn't call back. who you were rude to or forgot about. that you promised yourself you'd read your bible at lunch and went out with the office instead. that you hurried off the phone with your mom on your way out the door this morning, and cut robert off when he called to check in. all i care about is you're here. you're here and home and you're good. to me, you are good.

today, it is my sister. driving across town to meet me in an hour. to sit in a cafe far from here and drink caramel coffee. looking into a face so like mine, but so different. spending time with her reminds me no matter how crazed life gets, i'm blessed because i know someone who is golden.

it's these little reminders that propel me along. that i collect and store until one day it rains too hard and the fog has a hard time lifting, and i need them. the good thing is, like His mercy, these blessings are new every morning, within reach. the important thing is grabbing them.
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p.s. my sweet friend janette from janette the jongleur has nominated my little blog for a blogscar. as someone enthralled with everything hollywood, who made the trek to the independence theater across town last weekend to see the artist, i am beyond honored. the blogscars are the blogging oscars, and vintch is up for best blog and best writing. if you have a second, please cast your vote!

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thank you xoxo

tea-se me, please

2012-01-25T08:58:00.000-05:00

here's the thing.

i don't much like hot tea.

i try. oh goodness knows, i try.

i have a cute little grandma who carries her own tea bags in her purse, ordering a cup of hot water at restaurants. i have a sweet, calm friend who wraps her hands around a warm mug of fruit-flavored tea during bible study. and then there's my peppy work friend who loves lemon zinger in the mornings.

i haven't honestly given it a fair shake, i don't think. i've had a little green tea, a little black tea, and this morning, when i felt a little sore throat washing over me (dang north carolina weather! hot/cold/hot/cold), i made a big cup of raspberry pomegranate tea.

i was born and raised in the south, and can drink anyone under the table with sweet tea. i want this ardor to carry over into the hot tea realm.

so please, please. share your tea experiences. your recommendations. they're calling for highs in the sixties today and cold rain showers by this weekend. i don't think this sickness is going away anytime soon.

a lesson from dolores: a meaningful life

2012-01-23T08:52:00.000-05:00

"he just looked at me, on the stoop in front of his parents' house, and said, 'well, dolores. it looks like we're in love. you reckon we ought to get married?' and i said 'well lewis, i reckon so.'"

we sat side by side on her couch last night, our thighs touching as we embroidered. i've been coming to see robert's grandma twice week for four months now. and while she has almost completed an entire set of pillowcases, i'm still working on the same dresser scarf. but we gab. we sit. she feeds me yams and chew bread and banana pudding, green beans with corn and apple fritters. and as lewis sits in the recliner cracking walnuts, an hour or two passes. then, she pulls the curtains forward and hugs me close, breathing me in and telling me how much she enjoys our visits. i tell her the same.

i asked her about courting. about her favorite movie stars (clark gable) and where she met lewis (walgreens. he stepped on her foot.)

she sighed. "you know, life sure is meaningful."

and we talked some more. and i completed a few more back stitches. but that sentence stuck with me. for its simplicity. its honestly.

it's meaningful, what we're doing here.

every corporate memo you type.
every time you fix the paper jam in the office.
every time you stretch against the kitchen counter waiting for the coffee to drip.
every early morning and late night meal prepared against music.
every phone call you make to encourage, to check in.
every time you're tired and just want to eat cereal, take a bath and go to bed, but you swipe on the lipstick and go dancing anyway.
every time you eat cereal and take a bath and go to bed.
every handshake you give and nod or tilt of the head.
every time you sit on your bed in the middle of the afternoon and watch the sun dance across your quilt and think about when you were young, and your parents were invincible.
every time on your knees, in a group, in your car or under the covers, you whisper a prayer.
every time you look someone in the eye and say i really, really love you.

they mean something. they are vital to your story. the story you build, shape, tear down and remold. until one day you find yourself in your eighties, sitting beside a woman you won't know until your children are older. i pray our stories are as colorful, detailed and bright. and sweet enough to stop someone mid-stitch.

phil dunphy, autotuned.

2012-01-20T09:26:00.003-05:00

you guys.

i wanted to write something deep on here today. because in all honesty, today feels good. i've managed to keep my coffee warm in sub-freezing office temperatures and there is a sliver of sun dancing across my keyboard.

but all i want to do is watch this. robert and i were up until midnight rewinding the episode of this week's modern family. i found it to be one of the best ever. and i know it was met with controversy, because it included a child cursing (but not really. she was saying fudge in real life. anyway.)

that issue aside, can we all please enjoy the hilarity that is the phil dunphy autotune?

i feel this way today

2012-01-19T10:57:00.001-05:00

that is my problem with life, i rush through it, like i'm being chased. even things whose whole point is slowness, like drinking relaxing tea. when I drink relaxing tea i suck it down as if i'm in a contest for who can drink relaxing tea the quickest.

-miranda july

i want to live in miranda's world. everything she writes breaks my heart with its honesty.

to be wild, or how i won 30 cents in atlantic city

2012-01-18T09:42:00.000-05:00

i wore gray and black yesterday. a thrifted blouse with pretty pleats that, when the shoulder pads were removed (for the love of all things vintage, what purpose did shoulder pads ever serve?), was actually quite lovely.

and as i pulled my paper from the corporate printer, someone behind me said, oh, is this the week of gray and black? i looked down and yes. i was wearing the same combination. this time, zippered black pants about ten years old and a bejeweled gray top from express. the one i bought in high school. before our mall was bought out and slowly, one by one, the stores started packing up shop. express was one of the first to go.

it's safe, i suppose. the always handy, always pleasing, palette of gray. but then again, maybe i'm the safe one. you see the picture above? it's me in atlantic city. i gambled $2.00. i lost $1.70. i'm not cut out for the risk. the chance. (plus, the slot machines were very confusing, there were no instructions posted anywhere and all i did was press buttons.)

but what my co-worker didn't know is that i, too, can be a bit rebellious. but it might look different than most.

i feel wild when i wear a new bright lipstick. when i catch myself in the rearview at just the right moment in the afternoon and think, yes. that shade is yours.

when i forget that i'm tired, that it's been a long day, and that i have work in the morning, and go sit in a dark theater with robert. the one downtown without stadium seating, so you really can't see anyway. sliding my hand under his arm and just listening.

when i laugh uncontrollably at something that's not even that funny, and when i dance in the kitchen at twilight.
when i walk down our old country lane and look at pablo running headfirst into the breeze.
when the mail comes.
when the morning comes.
when the flannel is still warm from the dryer.

there are many things that bring me alive. that make me feel sunny. even if i choose wardrobe staples that are decidedly stormy.

scenes from a country cottage: kitchen edition

2012-01-17T08:17:00.001-05:00

winter is finally easing out of its heavy boots. it's no longer dark now when i leave the office. when i make the drive home on my favorite backroads. past that little country store and hamburger joint. the little vinyl siding house with the white dog out front, the one who's always sniffing the begonias. that farmhouse tucked behind the woods, with the old white shutters and the ford truck for sale in the field.

when i make it back here, back to this place, there's a pocket of time, about 10 minutes, when it's just me. before robert and pablo bound through the door and the evening begins.

i prop myself up on this old kitchen counter. and watch the sun sink back into the ground. watch the sliver of light dance on the ceiling, then the cabinets, across my shins, then finally onto the metal sink, where it disappears down the drain.

this is my favorite room. my cocoon of sunshine. where i can stretch, still asleep, over coffee and look out onto the road as children on four-wheelers ride by at dusk. where my parents snuck in after our trip to new england. watering our plants and leaving love notes on our chalkboard.

there are old, framed hymns in the den. an engagement portrait in our bedroom. my favorite books stacked up against the toilet tank in the bathroom. little pieces of me, scattered between the bones of these walls. but my spirit is mostly poured into this kitchen. this place of meeting and feasting. of praying. holding hands and making messes. of calendars and photo magnets. cookie jars and coffee mugs.

of five-thirty reflections. of breath between afternoon and night. all from a countertop vantage point, the best view in the house.

a mantra for today

2012-01-14T18:39:00.002-05:00

do you have doubts about life? are you unsure if it is really worth the trouble? look at the sky: that is for you. look at each person's face as you pass them on the street: those faces are for you. and the street itself, and the ground under the street, and the ball of fire underneath the ground: all these things are for you. they are as much for you as they are for other people. remember this when you wake up in the morning and think you have nothing. stand up and face the east. now praise the sky and praise the light within each person under the sky. it's okay to be unsure. but praise, praise, praise.

-miranda july.

a shore and a scarf

2012-01-13T10:18:00.000-05:00

there are times when no matter how pretty the sunshine is, or how strong my coffee, i wish i were here. right now, the rays are beating through my window, pushing aside the blinds and splaying themselves across my keyboard, and i just want to be there. with the cold sand and lapping breeze. the promise of a cape cod sunset, captured by the shutter of my love.

but today is friday. the 13th. in north carolina.

and so i'll browse through my pictures and albums. that scrap of a massachusetts receipt in the back pocket of my purse. and remember. thumb through these memories. and pull out my dayplanner to make new ones.

(p.s. the day i bought a dayplanner was the day i knew i'd entered adulthood.)

mistaken

2012-01-12T10:35:00.002-05:00

driving home from work yesterday, i realized something.

i've mistaken the lyrics to my favorite song. for six years now.

and it's not a huge difference. just a pronoun.

but it filled me with a profound sadness and slight case of mistaken identity. who am i if not the girl who knows every word to passing afternoon? who turns it on when the clouds hang low in the sky and the highway is gloomy with the sad stares of people going home?

suddenly, even the melodic hum of the radio and the spin of the tires beneath my wheels wasn't enough to comfort me, and i rode the rest of the way in silence.

for silence never betrays.

blind as night that finds us all

2012-01-11T10:10:00.002-05:00

is there anything more still than wheels on a black, empty highway? than streetlights and billboards dancing with energy, doing a silent rumba for weary late night travelers? like a shopping mall at closing time, or a grocery store in the wee hours of morning, where everyone, everywhere, has not yet charged to day-mode. i rumbled down I-40 on monday night with a coffee in the drink well and my arm against the robert.

we made our way down to raleigh only moments before the flood gates of rush hour let loose and a million sedans and pickups came barreling our way. we got there early, and ducked into one of our old college haunts, a little seafood shack at the farmer's market. but no one wants seafood on a cold, rainy monday in january. so it was deserted, save a few tired waitresses and an older gentleman waiting for his take-out order.

we drove around campus and looked at the buildings. oh remember when you would meet me there and we'd walk to class together? remember that time you brought me tacos in the middle of the day, and i left class and ate them in the hallway? remember that night we fought under those shade trees? and the morning we met there again to make amends?

it's a four-hour round trip to raleigh from our house. for my night classes. i skype typically, but i wanted to be there in person for our first class of the semester. and he went with me. just like he has before, and will again. because he's good and kind.

it was only when i got to my classroom door that i realized my class wasn't meeting until tuesday.

all that way for nothing.

but on the way home, we stopped for more coffee. and we played music into the heavy fog and made a list on the back of a post office receipt of all the trips we wanted to take this year. and somewhere between myrtle beach and the lake superior circle tour, i stopped and looked at him, hands on the steering wheel, mouth gaped open, laughing.

and i understood the purpose, the divine order, to our ill-planned trip.

this ain't hollywood, this is a small town

2012-01-10T11:31:00.002-05:00

there's something about a little diner. about sweet tea and chalkboard specials. about old men in overalls sitting, waiting for the sun rise. strong coffee. eggs with cheese.

but mostly, there's something about waking with your husband. piling into the car and driving in the cold morning (or is it still night?) air. running against the breeze into the warm shelter. sliding into the booth with rain on your jacket. holding hands across the table, right beside the sugar bowl.

our little hometown recently resurrected its diner. after sitting vacant for years, a sweet woman reopened it. and subsequently breathed life back into these roads. these people with red faces and calloused hands.

there's talk of a highway expansion in the future. about a new road pummeling through our dainty two-lane main street. but as long as there's little places like this, i have hope. in the goodness of people. the saltiness of bacon. the strength of will and vinyl siding. and the pride of a small town.

can't take him anywhere

2012-01-09T13:28:00.001-05:00

last time we took pablo to the park, he spotted another dog. it went a little something like this:

oh, hi. would you look at that? another bichon.

oh wait, he's coming closer.

mama, he's coming CLOSER.

MAMA!!!!

needless to say, we left.

this weekend, it was in the high sixties and sunny in our little corner of north carolina. so we tried again.

we left early and excited, with the promise of a day spent by the water, under the shade trees.

but every other dog owner in the surrounding 99 counties must have had the same idea, and there were dogs, huge dogs, everywhere.

this time, pablo didn't even make it to the ground, content to stay in my arms.

and not until we found a greenway where there were more walkers and bike riders than canines, did he his little heart still.

so maybe i have a sissy dog.

maybe he was in an abusive home for five years where he was picked on as the runt, until one evening in november we rescued him.

maybe he's more comfortable lounging on a microfiber sofa eating treats and receiving excellent belly rubs than running in the dog park.

maybe (absolutely) he needs to be properly trained by cesar millan.

maybe i shouldn't have gently pushed him down the slide at that elementary school playground we passed.

but an extra half hour with my baby in my arms? if it's all right by him, it's all right by me.

love, actually

2012-01-05T08:41:00.002-05:00

i blame the airport scene. the rush into arms. the rose bouquets.
i blame the hallmark store at my local mall, and every song john mayer wrote from 2003-2006.
i blame disney and laura ingalls wilder. and that scene in the field when zack and kelly finally married in the finale of saved by the bell.

i come from a romantic family. from a mom and dad who have date night every friday and still kiss across the kitchen table and behind the refrigerator. from a grandfather who kneels every night on her side of the bed, whispering and praying into the too-cold sheets, neatly made up to his left since that morning in april.

so i believe in the grandeur of it all. of valentines day. of kneeling before fountains and screaming her name into a crowd of pigeons in venice. in spelling out sentiments in rose petals and saving every prom corsage. in staying up late on the phone just to hear the breath of someone too far away.

but i also believe, i think we must believe, in the realism of love. in the day-in, day-out routine of it all. the ho-hum normalcy that starts in a little house and grows, plants itself in the walls, the kitchen countertops, the bed frames and the laundry basket. until one morning the sun hits the coffee pot just right and you realize you've made a home.

in going to bed at nine with just enough energy to meet in the middle for a quick kiss.

in grocery store spats and long car rides home in the dark.

in being okay with the fact that every meal is not going to be a candlelit course of free range chicken and organic field greens. most nights, it's probably going to be cereal on the porch.

in saturdays with no makeup, holding hands across the pew on sunday.

in bringing him the sports column in bed, and letting that be the most romantic thing you do.

in being okay with the idea that every day is not our wedding day. there will be days when i'm mad at you, and you at me. when i'm tired and your back hurts. when i can't see and you can't walk. when all there is to do is sit on the porch rocker and look onto the yard and we wonder where our youth ran off to.

no, we can't always be over the moon. our stars will fall back down to earth. and we'll breathe in the coppery dirt and plant ourselves in this ground. and we'll spend a lifetime and beyond building a beanstalk back up to heaven, reaching and sprouting in spurts along the way. but that's the glorious part of it, the growing and stretching.

i have a little challenge for you:

what's one word you'd use to describe real love? mine is: compromise.

leave it here in the comments or e-mail it {descriptions/pictures are welcome too: vintchdesigns@gmail.com.}

on valentines day, i'm going to do a little something special with the responses.

the front seat of the plumbing truck

2012-01-04T13:22:00.000-05:00

is this the more adult, less scandalous version of the backseat of the car?

either way, it's one of my favorite places to be.

smashed to the edge of the seat among old boxes of pipe fittings, wrenches and nails. the smell of rust. of robert's blue collar made real.

and it's not steamy, or hot. and chick-fil-a at noon, with moms and children and men on their lunch break swarming around us, is not quite makeout mountain.

but the sunshine was beating down on the dashboard and robert's arm was around me and i had a gut full of combo #1. and i declare, it was quite romantic in its own little way.

new {happy} year

2012-01-03T08:05:00.002-05:00

last year this time, i sat in the bathtub and wrote a list of goals. they included: read one book a month. write a "thankful for" list at the end of each day. keep a day planner. take more walks.

but this year, all i want is one thing:

to wake up each morning and catch the sunrise.

to not let its beauty spray across the sky while i'm in the shower, or drying my hair. to not pull the yellow quilt over my eyes when the rays start peeking through the blinds in the bedroom. to bring my coffee outside with me and sit on the porch swing in the dark. just sit in the morning blackness. until the golden and pink and coral start crawling up from behind the trees.

i just want to catch it. and i think with that, i'll catch all those other wishes and resolutions. all those other desires of my heart just beyond my reach. i'll pull them in with the sunshine. and at night, send them back up into Heaven, to the great painter Himself, who will take them, mix them, and create with them another glorious morning.

to see my dreams in the dawn. and to chase them until nightfall. that is my wish for 2012.

a little craft

2011-12-29T13:41:00.001-05:00

i can't sew all that well, it's no secret.

but i made this little number the other night, after a particularly inspired afternoon.

it's fluffy. it's thick. it's warm and reminds me a bit of a woodland creature. sometimes it sheds and leaves little white puffs on my bedroom floor.

but i made it. my fingers threaded the needle and cut the fabric. i did it late at night while robert watched a football game and pablo entertained himself with a new bone. i sat at our old round kitchen table with a little light in the corner, humming to myself.

and there's something organic about that. and rewarding. and like most things worth doing in life, it took time and patience. two things i've found myself short of lately. the process was cathartic.

these hands of mine are nimble. they type fast and hard on a keyboard and their knuckles crack when i'm stressed. they are burdened with hangnails.

but they are also capable. and mine.

and for that, i fold them in a prayer of thanks.

a search for a scent

2011-12-28T08:53:00.001-05:00

xxx

love,

my sister has found her scent. it's rare pearls by avon. and it is lovely and fresh, like clean sheets on a spring evening. her children will come to associate her with it and will keep a special bottle in their medicine cabinets when they get older, unscrewing the lid just to smell her.

but i'm still searching for mine. between the too spicys and too sweets. between the victoria's secret and bath and body works concoctions and the cosmetics counter vials. i haven't found it yet, and i fear time is running out. to create that lifelong relationship with a perfume takes time. wearing it to church and also to ballgames. to work and to weddings. and not growing tired or bored of it, as i tend to do.

maybe i'll never find it. maybe my children will always remember me by the clothesline, smelling of detergent and grass. maybe you'll remember the way the fire smelled that time i burnt the caramels in the kitchen. maybe my scent will be a marriage of many, many times. of cinnamon rolls and apple orchards. of sea salt and potting soil. night air and summer rain.

that's not to say i won't continue the search, because i think it a lovely notion. but while i'm looking, breathe me in deep no matter the circumstance. maybe one day we will find a way to bottle life.

to face unafraid

2011-12-27T09:09:00.003-05:00

it has started.

the slow process of packing up the ornaments and folding up the tree. of storing the stockings and dusting off tabletops. leaving that one strand of lights by the windowsill because they are whimsical. the few days after christmas are sort of a haze. a slow crawl out of lethargy and coziness. i stretched in bed this morning, only to crumple back under the covers as my body sighed against the dark.

and it's black outside my window. a slow drizzle is blanketing the parking lot. my raincoat is still on and the coffee has cooled against my hands. december 27. not quite new year's. not quite christmas. not quite anything at all really. just a chilly tuesday.

but i've got plans to take robert out for a frosty tonight. to read in my car during my lunch break and maybe take a mini nap. to hold hands with my mama across the old round table and spend an hour on the kitchen floor playing with pablo's new squirrel toy. it's exciting. in its own, little ordinary way, it's riveting..

every day can't be christmas. because that would diminish the splendor of it. but every day can be joyous, and merry. it can be full of cheer and of heavenly love. there's a sweet, sweet world waiting to be decorated. to be garlanded and strung with lights. to be adored and feasted upon. oh come, all ye faithful, and devour it.

a christmas card and a prayer

2011-12-23T09:14:00.000-05:00

on the way to work this morning, i thought about baby Jesus. about little chubby fingers. about flushed cheeks. the way babies smell. about a tired mama and a proud papa. about hay bales and donkeys and night stars and the cold. then i thought about the cross on the hill and i couldn't bring myself to think about it anymore and had to turn on a pop song.

my heart aches for what mary didn't fully know. my spirit crumbles to pieces when i think about swaddling a savior. because it's all so tortuously beautiful. and sad and sweet and precious and wild. i pray that this realization never leaves me. that i feel just as impacted on a pretty thursday evening in the spring, under the shade trees in the front of the house with my arm under robert, as i do this morning, two days before christmas. that the knowledge of the blessing sticks to my ribs, sustaining me on nights spent kneeling and mornings spent over the coffee pot.

it's a comfortable life, typically. there are sunrises and twilights. there are hands held across wooden tables and pillows that smell of summer. there are children laughing on hilltops and dogs with wet noses to greet us at the close of the day.

but to have this? to achieve this unspeakable beauty? it took one incredible sacrifice. but before all that. before the nails and the beating. before the crown of thorns and the bleeding.

there was one incredible birth.

sometimes

2011-12-22T09:03:00.000-05:00

it's okay to dress up in your favorite vintage frock

to swirl your hair up in a fanciful updo

to wear your special gold necklace and diamond earrings

...even though you work behind a desk all day and the only people you see are your co-workers.

christmas as an adult

2011-12-21T10:06:00.000-05:00

via

it's rainy and warm in north carolina. it is muggy and humid, and this weather is a fickle mistress to the corporate air conditioner. even the coffee mug under my hands is sweating.

and i've got the radio set on chistmas music. i've adorned our mantle with holly from the bush beside the porch and a nativity scene is resting on our coffee table, delicately perched upon the wood, baby Jesus shaking every time pablo knocks into it.

but it doesn't feel like christmas of old. when schoolwork ceased for a few days and we breathed a sigh of december relief in the form of cheery word searches and crossword puzzles, busywork of the best sort. when the skies were gray and cold and snow lurked around every sunrise. where the christmas tree was real, in that small corner of the living room. when i was tucked into bed beside my sister and for one second that somehow spanned into an entire month, all was well with the world. now, there are tests and papers and office work and appointments. there are days i feel like all i do is drive.

so what to do? we make our own traditions, our new little ways of celebrating. we decorate the office windowsill in lights and stay up late to watch lifetime movies under the artificial fraser fir. we put a too-heavy santa hat on pablo's head and take pictures as he paws it off. we replace the late night coffee run with eggnog and the ice cream with reindeer sugar cookies. we address christmas cards to our bosses and bring in fudge for the company kitchen.

it's not going to be the same. it never will and it was never supposed to. but to equate the magic of christmas with the magic of childhood is an unfair comparison. but that's not to say it's not a spectacular time to shed a little of our adult selves and sink into the glory of the holiday. to bring in a little of the old and mix it ever so gently with the new. to forge new paths and bridges over new rivers, one eye looking behind us at home in the distance, the other focused on the shore just ahead.

twenty-four years later

2011-12-20T11:42:00.000-05:00

...i have stuttering relief. it comes in the form of a little hearing aid-esque device that slips sweetly and neatly into my left ear. it is removable, which is a plus because it amplifies every.single.sound. and is hard to wear 24/7. but it is beautiful. and the joy and freedom it grants me is beyond belief. it's slow, methodical process, this healing and reforming. but i didn't get here overnight and it won't disappear overnight either. it is no sprint. rather, it's a walk, a saunter through the meadow at times and a trudge through snowy grounds at others. but i'm glad God chose me to take this path, however difficult and embarrassing and downright hard it can be. because finally, blissfully, there is a glimmer of light appearing from the shadows, a distant end to this tunnel. and it's like i just got new walking shoes.

the rock candy's melted, only diamonds now remain

2011-12-19T08:59:00.000-05:00

let it be known that i love sleeping in. this is a new-found phenomena, one gently and slowly revealed to me through marriage to a man who relishes his rest. who, with one arm draped over his head, will sink into the mattress and soak up all the deliciousness that cool sheets and a warm quilt can offer. and for a girl used to going to bed with the sun still draping himself over the countryside, and rising before he pokes his head up over the hills, i have truly learned the beauty and importance of a deep, sound sleep.

but sometimes, oh sometimes. there's just nothing quite like a morning in the country. with shed lights peeping on with the wind and oak branches spinning outside. with frost on the ground and over the lampposts.

this morning, i woke at five and made country ham. i sat in an old farm kitchen and warmed my hands on a coffee mug as the meat simmered and spat in the skillet. and i drug mr. sleepyhead himself into the bright yellow chairs. the morning still black, we talked and ate. and slowly, ever so slowly, we awoke. to the day. to ourselves, to each other. and i declare, it was almost better than a late morning snuggled next to the window. almost.

that's not what ships are built for

2011-12-16T09:43:00.001-05:00

xxx

i could have walked five feet and touched the highway sign. ran my cold fingers along the green metal and traced the I-40 east marker. i was that close when it happened.

my tire blew on the way to work yesterday. just exploded out of nowhere. just a second past the school zone and before the interstate. had i left our house 30 seconds earlier, it would have blown while i was traveling seventy miles per hour, in the middle lane. between truckers and corporate executives barreling down the road on the way to work.

instead, i was thrust onto the grassy shoulder of the country road, my car shaking violently. i managed to stop it. an hour later, it was towed away to the repair shop, and i was safe and warm in robert's van, thanking God for a man who is capable and calm under pressure, an eagle scout if i ever saw one.

but it shook me up. and scared me. and made me take the long way to work today, avoiding the highway. and it had me praying harder and sending more whispered thank yous up to heaven.

because things just happen sometimes. new tires burst. buildings collapse. someone gets a phone call at three in the afternoon that changes his life. we never know what each day holds. what glorious blessings or awful tragedies. but the fear cannot be crippling. it must be the force that propels. that pushes us to love harder and longer. forgive quicker. and think smarter before speaking.

to run headfirst into the burden of chance. the risk of driving down the road or flying in the plane. i'll get back in the highway soon, i'm sure. but for now, i'm enjoying the cornfields and rural neighborhoods that the long way provides. but we weren't made for the harbor, i know that much. we were made for the sail.

a memory each morning

2011-12-14T10:17:00.002-05:00

i will always think of you like that, standing there in your pajamas on the porch.

when the clouds of old age loom. when children grow up and move away and the rooms are too big but the clothes fit smaller. when the creaky floorboards give way to creaky knees and elbows. when i sit down on the cold basement floor sifting through the relics of us, our high school days and our wedding day. pictures in hospitals and on church steps.

i'll remember the mornings in that little cottage of ours, backing out of the gravel drive. you, always, there by the screen door. bare feet and messy hair. a sleepy grin and a wave. and the way that sight would feed me through the day, propelling me onward until we met again on that same porch, a different greeting as the sun faded to black.

i love you all the time, but perhaps the best like this.

on being sensitive (and southern)

2011-12-13T13:39:00.000-05:00

it's been a long morning.

because people can be mean and i am sensitive and when those two forces combine there is a chance of combustion. or tears in the bathroom stall. same thing.

but just now, a cashier at the local barbecue joint noticed me. my red, puffy eyes and my sore, peeling nose. probably the general look of disgust and discomfort on my face, or maybe that my hair was in poor, mousy condition.

and he offered me complimentary hush puppies.

and right then, on eastchester drive, my day turned around.

do something nice today, folks. you never know whose stormclouds you're turning to sunshine.

a weekend on the couch

2011-12-12T09:59:00.001-05:00

xxx

i did not leave my couch once this weekend.

i ate my meals there. slept there under about four blankets. watched as the sun rose, hung in the sky behind the oaks, then set again, pablo asleep at my shins.

what started as a bug on friday leaped into a deep, feverish sinus infection that had me bundled up and freezing one minute and burning up and sweating the next.

and i feel better today. because that's the beautiful thing about the human body. usually, though i am certainly aware that not always, we do heal. we fight back and reclaim our right to be amongst the living. to go out driving on a sunday or shopping on a saturday. to eat something other than soup broth. to pull ourselves out of the mounds of tissues and medicine bottles and sit on the porch swing for a few minutes, letting december wash over and cool us.

so we soldier on. because sickness will come. it's a part of life. and honestly, a weekend of rest was quite nice. a weekend of taking three steaming baths a day, staying up watching movies with robert, and giving no heed to the time. i watched way more keeping up with the kardashians and real housewives (of every.single.county) than i cared to, but it was a reprieve. i would have preferred this reprieve to come without a stinging throat and stuffy nose, but hey, i'll take any rest i can get.

a silver christmas

2011-12-09T08:46:00.000-05:00

i put up two christmas trees yesterday. a white one for robert's grandma and this one. the same silver tree that has graced my grandpa's formal living room for the past fifty years. it is shiny and the ornaments are so fragile i may or may not have cracked one. and i declare, i do love the smell and look of a good fraser fir, but these tiny trees, with their revolving, colorful bases, stir up a delight in me that is unmatched. i think it's because i can see the history in them. in the grubby hands that packaged them up every january, and the faces who would lie under the stems, watching the kaleidoscope show.

it's a red and green christmas. but every one needs a little sparkle now and again.

let me know that you love me, let that be enough

2011-12-08T10:29:00.000-05:00

this is the shed behind my house. it stores robert's motorcycle, a few lawn care items, and an old dog carrier. for a few blissful weeks last may, it was a makeshift home for four kittens i found. the old door handle is worn and rusty. this morning, dew was clinging to its siding. a tall strand of ivy is creeping up its back door, curling it way back to the concrete steps.

but at one time, about seventy years ago, this was a house. a teeny abode for two newlyweds. a few years later, they built the little brick cottage we now call home. it was two rooms. in the middle of the country flanked by cornfields and newly paved roads. shielded by pin oaks and cushioned by blueberry bushes.

whenever this world gets to be too much, whenever i think about the christmas list in my purse, bloggers who go on fabulous trips to europe, and the new boots in the window at the mall, i remember this shed. for its simplicity and smallness. perfect in its absolute minute way.

and if home can found in a garage, i do believe it can be anywhere. i'm learning to embrace that. and the idea that two rooms can be enough. very little can be enough. almost everything i have or think i need is too much. humans are simple creatures, when it comes down to it. love and food are necessities, the base and the roots of the tree. the rest are just ornaments, hanging and embellishing but never enough to stand, to complete, on their own.

finding the soul

2011-12-07T11:27:00.000-05:00

there are some times, some special, deeply intimate times, when eyes transform and become portals, little peep holes into souls. sometimes, when the light hits just right and i'm at the right vantage point, i swear i can see into the sacred. like robert's grandma in the hospice bed. the split second her lids fluttered apart. or robert's. squinting up at me in the november sunshine, down on one knee.

the other day, it was pablo. riding in the car on my lap, sneaking peeks behind him at me in my dress. the way the wind was blowing his ears and how his wet nose felt against my wrist. and looking into those pupils i swear i felt God. He does come in unexpected ways sometimes, and a sunday car ride home with the windows down and twilight swirling seems like a pretty lovely place to make an appearance.

finding the still

2011-12-06T10:02:00.000-05:00

it's just not going to happen.

the brownies will not get made for bible study. the whites will not get washed. and the noodles might be not be hot anymore once we bring ourselves to the table. my hair will be in a bun, one remnant of morning curls poking out the back. doggie belly rubs might not occur until midnight, with the tree out back casting a shadow on the blanket.

tis the season of hustle. of bustle and movement. of late nights and early mornings, with a soundtrack of ripping wrapping paper and falling ornaments. some things must, some things inevitably will, fall to the wayside.

but i promise this: i will lean into, body and spirit, everything sacred and holy and still about this december. i will sing from my gut and pray on my knees. i am determined to feel christmas this year. wholly. and that means letting things slide. like the pile of clothes in the laundry room. the books on the nighstand. the dust under the bench.

and i don't know how long i can make this last. this focus, this deep drive. january? february, maybe? but it's the striving that counts. the constant reach and try. one month, one prayer, at a time.

scenes from a country cottage: a borrowed christmas

2011-12-05T08:42:00.000-05:00

these are the hamburger years. the years of sewing on patches and cutting coupons and drafting a new, tighter budget every other week. of washing down baseboards and scrubbing steel sinks.

very few things are ours. at this stage, they are hand-me-downs. the old round table from my uncle in the corner. the light wood desk from my aunt, repainted a happy red. the kitchen table from my parents. there are stories in my house that are not my own. rather, we live in a little collection of sorts, an family antique gallery, just nice enough to display but worn enough to spill on, leave a sweaty cup on, or prop our feet on that it doesn't really matter.

it becomes especially apparent every december, when i lug the tupperware out from the basement. our christmas decorations are mainly borrowed. our stockings were made by aunts and cousins. our tree comes from our sweet neighbors. the ornaments come from mama, who started collecting them for me when i was a baby. when we turn the lamps off, the lights twinkle against the old blinds, an orchestra of color.

it's a loaned road, filled with loaned time. and we are the mosaics that walk along it. i can look at the stockings, with their particular, perfect stitches, and remember the skilled hands of my uncle. the crocheted ornaments sing of the skill of my grandma. the baby's first christmas ornament reminds me of my parents, young and just starting out.

so if i am to be a compilation, i'm happy it's of these folks. these memories and these christmases. for especially this month, i am reminded that really, when it comes down to it, we're all just renting this space, this blessed, borrowed life.

wednesday night discord

2011-12-01T08:36:00.001-05:00

it was a computer night. robert tucked into his walnut corner desk, plumbing tickets organized and spread across the smooth wood. and i behind my cherry red table, the one we painted ourselves that hot august, with scratches and dings along the side, battle scars of moving.

and we sat there and stared. into the black hole that is the internet. microsoft word. etsy. pablo nudged my heels and i looked down to see his little squishy face, tennis ball in his mouth. i wish there were some sort of tennis ball machine we could get that would just shoot out balls for him to chase, i found myself saying.

and as soon as the thought made its way from my crowded mind to my loose, sleepy mouth, i regretted it. regretted asking for silence. for peace and quiet. for a still, resting home.

give me the noise, the hectic. that floorboard in front of the guest room that moans when work boots hit. give me cereal bowls in the sink and curlers on the bathroom vanity. i want to revel in the mess of it all, the lived-in feel of a house turned home. give me late nights on the linoleum in the kitchen, dog face mashed into my own. robert's tennis shoes under the coffee table and plants overflowing on the windowsill. give me the underbelly of the beast of chaos.

i don't want to miss it. this fleeting bubble i can almost tangibly feel drifting higher and higher toward the heavens. of all my loved ones still here. a pup who still wants to play, and can hop onto the bed. able arms that can throw toys, stretch into child's pose and wrap around my husband. it's brief, this life. a whispered breath, really. and to wish for it to be any easier, any less involved, is a pity. for discord, i've found, is the mother of dreams.

just leave me the lyrics

2011-11-30T11:36:00.001-05:00

xxx

before i knew that he would have strong hands, eyes that turned downward on the sides, and a penchant for making hearty sandwiches, i knew one thing about the man i would marry. he wouldn't interrupt my songs.

he would listen, head slightly tilted, as sam beam whispered, in a way that only sam beam can, to me through the stereo. because he would know one sacred truth: there is nothing in this entire world important enough to interrupt "passing afternoon."

because lyrics are poetry and the english major in me dances when i discover a cleverly turned phrase or a hidden pun laced into an otherwise ordinary ballad. for years, i kept little mead notebooks full of them. i filled three entire ones before i hit middle school. in the age before the internet, i would lie on my stomach on the carpet in my bedroom, stopping and rewinding my favorite tapes to ensure i scribed them correctly. bone thugs-n-harmony's "crossroads" proved terribly difficult, and i wore out the single trying to figure out the rap. my alanis morissette phase is marked by astericks and @ signs.

later, i replayed "your body is a wonderland" until mama got sick of it and robert quit caring, because i loved the phrase "i'll never let your head hit the bed without my hand behind it." even now, when john's lost his appeal, i can still love that song for its cheesy sentiment that somehow hit a chord in me that few other songs have (until i heard passing afternoon, that is. sitting in the dark leather chairs of the library at midnight).

and there are times he forgets. when it slips his mind that i'm not just drumming on my steering wheel to the beat of a song, but actively, fully listening to the story. all it takes is one upturn of the eyebrow to remind him. not now, not now. not while poets are singing in my earbuds, reminding me of all the untapped beauty in the world. it's a brief reprieve, for certain. but a sweet indulgence nonetheless.

a real world christmas

2011-11-29T09:51:00.001-05:00

it was cold that night, and dark.

there were no rooms and people were rude. they were lost, lonely and scared.

on a bed of straw, huddled near livestock. not the ideal way to bring a savior to the world. not the ideal place for anything, really. the birth was flawed, riddled with unexpected setbacks, disappointments and heavy-hearted fatigue. in an age where lead-based paint is feared, the floor of a barn seems an unimaginable substitute for a hospital. but for all its human shortcomings, what a divine, precious perfection. it was real, hay bales and all. the face staring back a marriage of the human and the holy. yes, it was not quite as imagined, but in its very essence, the realness, the grit and dirt and sweat of Jesus' birth is what makes it endearing, special and sacred.

i find comfort in that. in the realization that God wants the soil of our lives, the grimy undercore of our souls, to plant the seed of faith. life is messy and tragic and altogether hard sometimes, but it's also so blessedly beautiful.

we took christmas pictures on sunday. from the moment i slipped on my dress, it just felt wrong. it was windy. and cold. and pablo was preoccupied with the cat running behind the deck. my hair was laying weird and i picked my skirt on the wooden bench. we argued about dog placement and portrait vs. landscape. about self timer length and background location. seven pictures later, we settled on a semi-focused, semi-centered one that will suffice, and ordered thirty.

this picture sort of sums it all up. we were frustrated, ill and tired with each other. i was tempted to send these out as the final picture, a nice detour from the typical, posed shots that line our fridge.

because this picture represents real life. it was not ideal. actually, nothing went according to plan. but it was real and honest and rooted in love. and in the end, the chaos gave way to beauty. much like that birth, i suppose.

a shop giveaway

2011-11-28T09:47:00.003-05:00

hi guys! hope everyone had a beautiful, blessed thanksgiving. a holiday with lots of food, time with family, and an awesome parade? it's one of my favorites. but alas, it is over, which means christmas is right around the corner! robert and i stayed up and decorated our little cottage last night, drinking eggnog and making christmas tree sugar cookies. i declare, a warm house twinkling with strung lights is quite possibly one of the homiest, comfiest and sweetest places to be.

to get us in the holiday spirit, i'm participating in a giveaway spree over at chambanachik. hop on over to enter to win a $25 gift card to my etsy shop! and while you're there, do stay a while and learn about the beautiful, spirited soul of my sweet friend erika. she's funny, darling and an excellent mama. one of my favorites in all of blogland.

*also: In the spirit of Cyber Monday, enter coupon code CYBER for 40% off everything in my shop, today only*

xoxoxo

the day after: a reflection

2011-11-25T08:39:00.001-05:00

i am thankful for the feast. for the green bean casserole and the yams. the chicken and dumplings and the sweet tea. for the children playing in the living room and the adults gathered around the kitchen table. for the after-lunch walk down that country road. a solid, straight path of land, flanked by cornfields and oaks.

but when it's all over, when every single tupperware dish is pulled from the cabinets to hold leftovers and we sink into bed with full bellies after the ballgame, what i am thankful for most of all is this: time.

like my sweet mama and dad who came with me to the thanksgiving eve lovefeast on wednesday night. one town away, in a church we did not know. just to support me, love me and encourage me, feasting alongside me on sweet lovefeast buns served as we sang songs of praise to our Father.

the service was free, and the buns were small and cold. but mama held my hand when i prayed and i looked over and saw dad singing. and i remembered the intangible blessings of life, relayed through a handhold. a song. and a prayer. i am most thankful for this pocket of time, this sweet envelope of borrowed hours. to love every day. every single, glorious, God-given day.

p.s. the giveaway winner of the justaddsunshine contest is amanda! i'll contact you to claim your $18 gift credit! happy thanksgiving:)

i will be sweet for you

2011-11-23T09:16:00.001-05:00

xxx

around eleven, he wrestled me onto the couch. my bangs hot with the feel of a house warmed with oil heat. it was dark and the lamp made our shadows dance on the whitewashed, wooden walls. his face was close and he told me, i love how sweet you are. i smiled with my eyes and kissed him, thinking about all that word encompasses: sweet.

and i promise you dear, i will be sweet for you. i will greet you at the doorstoop at six in the evening when your collar is wrinkled and your hands smell of copper. i will let you gather me in your arms, and lead you into the kitchen. and likewise, i will wave to you in the mornings as i pull out of the gravel drive, your face getting smaller and smaller as i get closer to the cornfields.

i will be sweet in the afternoons, calling you to check in from that cafe i love to frequent during my lunch break. i will send you texts, not sexts, because i am a lady. and i will leave you lipstick messages on the mirror on your birthday.

but there is a line, i believe. between sweet and sugary. there is a threshold there. a sacred, delicate, whisper-thin line that can easily be traversed if one is not dilligent. i promise to be salty sometimes, too. i will challenge you, call you out, and, only because i love you and sometimes this happens with people you love, i will disappoint you. make you sad. i may shout out sarcasm in a fit of rage or go to bed in silence, whispering i love you in my lowest tone only because i hate going to bed mad. and i'll mean it, mind you. but that doesn't mean i won't hold a grudge. or give you the silent treatment. or ignore your calls the next day.

yes, i will be sweet. i can't help it. i come from the south, and a good family. and i will love you to the ends of this earth and after. but everything needs a counter, and the salt will inevitebly seep in. but just ride it out. and, if you can, appreciate the difference. the wholesome, satisfying, balanced meal of my love that will feed you, sustain you, and nourish you. long after the sugar buzz wears off.

my weekend: music and the mountain air

2011-11-21T08:53:00.000-05:00

there is something spectacular about mountain air, something about altitude and attitude. the weather ran the gamut this weekend, from warm sunshine hitting our shoulders as we sat on rocking chairs to a blustery chill between our fingers and toes as we sat huddled outside the concert hall, waiting for the doors to open.

it was a sweet balloon of time, spent in little breakfast diners. on front rows of live music, lights flashing and sweet folk music wafting a few inches from my wondrous eyes. of still water and rickety old bridges.

but mostly, and perhaps most importantly, it was a weekend spent with two of my favorite men. my brother and husband are good-hearted, kind and spectacular people and just to be in their presence for 48 hours was a blessing. it also helps that they have killer taste in music and don't mind staying past midnight for an encore.
because after all, i do believe that's the heart of living. staying for the encore.

an adultnapping

2011-11-18T09:01:00.000-05:00

robert and i are leaving in a few hours to take my brother to the carolina mountains. a weekend spent in the heart of the blue ridge, with early morning pancake house visits and late night walks around still, black lakes. of a lykki li and first aid kit concert inside an old, echoing music hall.

i first wanted to title this post "a kidnapping," because that's what we're doing--stealing him away from life for a few days to breath in air that's a little colder, a little more filling.

but the problem is, he's not a kid. before i could gather him in my arms and ask time to slow down, he grew. from riding his skateboard, to driving to applying for college. he leaves this spring. so, adultnapping it is.

on a semi-related note, adult napping is exactly what i want to be doing right now. filling my veins with lots of black coffee after last night's premiere of the latest twilight installment. yes, i hopped on that bandwagon. and yes, i thought this movie was one of the best. chugging through today with the tree-topped peaks soon on the horizon.

a giveaway: just add sunshine

2011-11-17T08:45:00.000-05:00

every tuesday night, i eat supper and delve into the Bible with my sweet friend megan. with one of the most sincerely sweet hearts i've ever met, megan is the kind of girl who is just calming and comforting to be around. she's deliberate in her faith walk, a dynamic high school teacher, and one of the most fabulous crafters i know. megan just opened up a new etsy shop, justaddsunshine and i am so,so happy to team with her to offer you guys a giveaway today.

from sweet wreaths (check out this christmas one!) to the most adorable little button bouquets i've ever seen, megan's shop so lovely. today, she's offering one reader the chance to win a $18 gift certificate to her shop!

how to enter

visit megan's shop and tell me your favorite item

extra entry

"favorite" megan's shop on etsy (leave additional comment)

the giveaway will be open until next thursday, november 24.

**also, because i told you she was sweet, megan's offering all vintch readers 15% off her shop this week. just enter coupon code "vintch" at checkout.

thanks for playing, friends. have a beautiful, blessed day. and thank you, megan!

but more so the flutter

2011-11-16T08:58:00.000-05:00

you tell me all the time you love to watch me sleep. in the nook of the couch around midnight. in the bed at six in the morning, before any living creature is roused and our tiny room is washed in dark.

but i love the flutter of waking. when your eyes shift around under their lids and i can tell you're emerging. out of that deep dream and into the warmth of the quilt, and my my hands in your hair. that look of confusion that quickly gives way to recognition, oh hey, i know you. and for that split second, before words crush the moment and deflate the cocoon, there's a holy peace, a sacred space. yes, i suppose i love the flutter of it all more so than the dreaming.

oh little me, it's okay

2011-11-15T08:50:00.000-05:00

xxx

in the waiting room at the speech pathologist's office on friday, i saw a girl. and from her mousy hair to the way she clung to her mama, she reminded me of myself. speech is such a private thing. and impediments are hushed, intimate. but we sat there together, shared the same generic white walls and boring reader's digest magazines. and i wanted to tell her, just lean into her and whisper, you're going to be fine. given the time, i also wanted to let her know, in case her frazzled mama never did, that:

it's okay if you don't have your first kiss until 16. it's also okay if it doesn't happen until you're 20. or 35. because when it does happen, you'll be thankful you waited for it. and once you've kissed the right someone, all you'll want to do for the rest of your days is kiss him, so it's best to wait until you're good and ready. and have some spare time.

that being said, you might have almost-guys. maybe guys. guys you meet at the beach or at a friend's house. but it doesn't matter if his eyes are blue and he looks good in a polo. that he comes from a good family and goes to your church. if it's not there, don't force it. and for the life of me, don't let that boy at the beach kiss you. because beach boys are usually just that. fluid and constantly changing with the ebb and flow of adolescence.

it's okay if you want to hole up in your bedroom and listen to mixed tapes. and read babysitter's club and american girl books until you're long past the age range listed on the back.

it's okay to make straight As but always come home with your report card marked "talks too much." loquacious little girls become women who can carry a decent conversation. there are worse check marks to get.

it's okay if you don't want to cheer. or do band. if all you want to do after school is come home and walk by the creek bank or sit in the field behind the porch. there's power in the comfort of home.

but also, and maybe most importantly of all, it's okay to leave home. to go to that school a few states away. to get a job in a big city if the offer and timing are right. to marry that first boy who kisses you or maybe the 20th. to set out on your own road, knocking down brush and limbs as you stumble through the wild, the gloriously golden sunrise just on the horizon. make your way in this world, and you'll be surprised at how many follow, inspired and impressed by the the path you created.

two essential topics

2011-11-14T08:23:00.002-05:00

#1: today is my sister's birthday. she is turning twenty. twenty!

the girl who slept feet from me all her life until i left for college.

the girl who made my phone calls in high school when i just couldn't and stood beside me at my wedding.

the girl who is infinitely more beautiful, kind and good-hearted than i could ever hope to be.

i love you, carly. and i'm honored to call you my best friend. the sisters thing is just the icing.

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#2: today i'm over at my friend sarah's blog, desirous of everything. sarah asked me to do a little how-to post. and i thought. and thought some more. i've seen super blog tutorials about how to make bib necklaces. how to sew a wallet. how to cook a delish nutrish meal.

but i can't do any of those things, so i began to feel like a tiny failure.

then i looked at my ankles and saw my bundle of fluff, pablo. and remembered.

i am an expert in doggie belly rubs.

so hop on over and watch as i break down the art of the belly rub into seven easy steps! then give sarah some love because her blog is a true treasure. just try to not get lost in her writing. just try!

microscope heart: tiffany

2011-11-11T08:26:00.001-05:00

today's microscope heart comes from my sweet friend tiffany from figuring out the plot. tiffany's a country girl like myself, which was one of the things that first brought me to her blog. once there, i was so happy i stuck around. because she is certainly one insightful, lovely woman. she has a heart for Christ and her future husband, and her posts about both make my heart swell. thank you, tiffany!
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Hey y'all! I'm Tiffany...a farm girl living in the city practicing law and cheering for Oklahoma State football (Go Pokes!) and blogging about my adventures at Figuring Out The Plot.

First off, how much do y'all love this little series that Courtney came up with? I think it's fantastic! I'm so excited to take part in it today....in my opinion, she is the best writer in blog land! You'll have to bear with me because my writing is not even close to the same level as you read on Vintch every day!

When I saw the concept of Microscope Heart, I started thinking about what little thing I am grateful for. I thought about this for a long time and finally came up with my answer....Hugs.

via

Hugs just make me happy. They make a person feel special and loved and if you ask me, they make the world a better place.

And hugs are totally not about the physical, but about the feelings. If you think about hugs literally, it's just four arms getting sort of tangled up together. Seems like something strange...doesn't make sense really. But the fact is, hugs are so much more than that.

Just a hug can convey a whole range of emotions. Happiness or sorrow. Excitement or joy. Pain or peace. Comfort or attraction. It's a way to share your love....your support....your soul...with someone else.

And the same thing---one hug---can convey all of these different emotions without needing a single word. With as busy and as complicated as life can be, I love knowing that there is one little thing that can mean so much. It's something small....microscopic.....but its meaning is so much more.
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thank you, tiffany! hope your weekend is blessed.
what's the absolute smallest thing that makes you happy? tell me here!

in seventy years, i hope

2011-11-10T10:32:00.000-05:00

i did dishes last night. and this morning. and yesterday morning and on tuesday too.

the sink is deep and metal. it's got hairline scratches from piles of pans stacked up over seventy years of housekeeping. but it overlooks the front yard and the pin oaks i have grown to adore. and at 5:45 in the afternoon there's a sliver of setting sun that falls on the spigot and makes it flicker. i like to sit up on the countertop and let my heels hit against the knotty pine cabinets.

elbows deep in suds, i thought, i'll probably be doing this for the rest of my life. there will be dishes in the sink and clothes in the hamper day in and day out. it's a sort of a ritualistic romance we lead, me and these chores.

but pablo laid at my heels on the rug as i folded the millionth white undershirt. and robert came up behind me at the sink, getting his arms wet. i dropped the cereal bowl. and at nine in the evening i rested my head against him, breathing in the rusty smell of pipes and copper.

and another thought came, i hope so. i hope at eighty i'm still standing over a sink. maybe looking at the same grassy field. maybe not. maybe in a kitchen full of grandchildren, or perhaps just robert. he'll be eighty-two and by then the callouses on his hands will be deeper. a new dog on the old rug, or maybe just my house slippers.

i hope i'm blessed to always tidy up a house filled with love. but more than that, i hope to always have someone there to pull me from it. to remind me that a messy home is better than a clean house. and, on the really overwhelming days, someone to roll up his sleeves, and stand beside me in bright yellow gloves. washing and scrubbing and loving all the rest of our days.

new in the shop: an exodus to autumn

2011-11-09T09:02:00.000-05:00

when it's summer, all i want to do is wear a tank top, sit in front of a fan and drink sweet tea until my sweat cools. but now? now it's autumn and bring out the fun clothes! the layers! the tunics! the pretty, simple lines and flattering fits.

all these pretty vintage lovelies can be found in my etsy shop, starting yesterday. a great big shout-out to my sweet friend kasey, photographer extraordinaire. have a beautiful, blessed day, sweet friends.

p.s. pumpkin. that's the secret code to get 25% off all these bad boys. yep, halloween lives on.

sew wrong

2011-11-08T09:59:00.001-05:00

via

mama gave me a sewing machine sunday night.

encased in a brown vinyl cover, relics of decades ago perfectly preserved, down to the tube of oil still leaking. a pretty ol' singer, in a sweet shade of cream. the beast was heavy, but i lugged her onto the kitchen counter. with a few minutes of home to myself, i plugged it in and the machine lit up like the highway at midnight.

and i read instructions. i watched youtube videos. i sat and stared at the thing and thought to myself, if i were a bobbin thread, how would i pull myself up? it seemed easy enough, and the fashion designers online made it looks as easy as frosting a cupcake (which can, it turns out, also be kind of hard).

i tried for hours. robert came in and sat beside me. pablo barked at my heels and the sun finally set on the day and my seamstress dreams. i went to bed discouraged. it's such a lovely thing to sew. so domestic and pretty and dainty and all things soft and warm and comfortable in this world. and there i sat, in a seventy-year old house where many a lacy pillowcase had been made. my big knuckles and impatient heart two giant stumbling blocks.

but the thing is, i may never learn. my hands may always be more equipped for washing dishes over a sink of hot water. for lugging around a heavy pup. for making soup and biscuits and painting desks cherry red. besides, whoever decided to make needle eyes so blessed small obviously didn't have a desk job in front of a computer. because those two just don't jive.

the kindness of it all

2011-11-07T10:26:00.000-05:00

there are monsters in this world. they are in back alleyways at midnight, and in corporate conference rooms at noon. they are sons. daughters. mamas. robert and i have recently taken to watching 48 hours and dateline. and it's awful, the things people are capable of.

but for the life of me, i just can't shake the realization that as a whole, people are kind. they are sweet and generous and when they're not, there's a reason, and it typically has nothing to do with the situation at hand. or with you.

i wrote about this idea once. after a christmas shopping trip. intoxicated by the carols and the sweet hot cider. just as everyone looks beautiful in candlelight, everyone looks sweet under tinsel.

but i had the same thought this past week--on a random friday in the middle of the afternoon. sitting at my desk with sunlight streaming in through the cracked blinds.

there's a non-profit organization a few cities over. one meeting with one sweet woman last monday and it was settled. they are paying for my speech easy device. every single penny of it. an accumulation of heartache, prayer and wishful thinking, all coming to a head as the week came to an end.

i spent the weekend in awe of it all. sending whispered prayers of thanks up to heaven, swinging on the front porch swing letting autumn wrap its cool, wispy arms around me.

i've seen a lot of this world. i've been mocked and laughed at. i've felt like toe scum after being walked upon. people have hurt me to the core and left me forever changed.

but for all their faults, people can also be extraordinarily kind-hearted. and i declare, they are good.

microscope heart : kaylia

2011-11-04T08:36:00.000-04:00

This week's microscope heart comes from my sweet friend kaylia, from the many colours of happiness. writing all the way from beautiful australia, kaylia is such a fabulous fixture in the blogosphere. she's honest and raw about her life, and she does it all in the most lovely way possible. she's salt of the earth, this girl, and i'm so happy to feature here today.
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Firstly I want to thank Vintch for coming up with such a beautiful little series. As soon as I read others contributions I knew that I wanted to take part and add a little piece of my own happiness into this wonderful collection.

It took me a while to decide what I wanted to write about. There are so many lovely things in life that it’s hard to pick just one, isn’t it? But, as I’m sure is the case with everyone, there was something that really stuck out for me. You see, when I was feeling a bit down, a bit unmotivated, I looked up ways to maybe make life a little more sparkly again. There were a lot of great suggestions, one of them including ‘stretch in the mornings’.

Such a simple little thing, but one that has indeed brought the sparkle back into my world.

On that first morning after deciding to try it out I got up early and crept softly into the living room, so as not to wake my sleeping husband. I pulled opened the curtains and let the early morning sunlight I often missed in my rush to get ready pour in and fill my soul. Then I began.

But there was a problem. What I haven’t mentioned is that I have two cats. Two cats that feel particularly affectionate in the mornings and who were overly excited to see me up so early. Every time I started my stretching routine one of them would bound up to me, demanding attention and tripping me up. And every time I did a stretch that required me to sit down, one of them would climb into my lap and refuse to budge.

I couldn’t help it, after a few half-hearted attempts I burst out laughing and gave up for the rest of the morning, choosing to cuddle the cats instead. And that has been my routine every morning since. I might not have gotten any more flexible, but when a morning is started with cuddles and laughter? Well how can you possibly have a bad day after that.

And all it took was that simple little thing to bring so much happiness and joy into my life. Pretty cool, huh?

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very, very cool kaylia. thank you so much!
what's the absolute teeniest tiniest thing that makes you happy? tell me here.

the place of remembrance

2011-11-02T09:34:00.000-04:00

my co-worker complimented me on my boots the other day.

i looked down at them, tucked into my jeans. remnants of storage dust on their heels from a summer spent in the basement. "i got these the day heath ledger died," i replied absentmindedly. all of a sudden, they weren't just shoes anymore. they were reminders. of that evening in college spent by myself at the mall. why i, the student with campus police on my speed dial, was out shopping alone is beyond me. but there i was. knee deep in the shoe department at belk's. the text came when i was trying them on.

i was little when princess diana died. i bumbled down the steps for a drink of water to find mama alone in the dark, crying in front of the television. years later, i sat on that same couch and watched the coverage of the JFK, jr. plane crash. i learned of aaliyah's death in a church corridor one sunday morning. these places and objects are forever changed to me.

i don't remember much. i joke with robert that my memories start around middle school. but these things--these moments that don't even directly involve me, are stamped inside. they are a part of me and i of them.

i am a collection. of memories and days and evenings spent watching the news. of remembering and forgetting until some off the cuff comment triggers something deep inside and i remember all over again. until a co-worker reminds me that my boots are more, so much more, than leather (well, pleather).

but being human means embracing these associations, these little fibers that connect us as a whole and unite us. in suffering, yes. and in sadness. but also, when the heavens align at just the right moment, in inexplicable joy.

let me lead

2011-11-01T09:03:00.002-04:00

let me lead.

on the kitchen floor in your socks and shirt. my hair falling down as the sun follows suit, a stray ray seeping in through the tiny window.

because no one can match the steps of your feet like me, the clumsy footsteps i've come to recognize as you walk across the creaky floorboards when i'm sleeping.

so go to work, as you must. drink lots of black coffee and stay up past midnight finishing it. carry the stress on the broad shoulders you tuck into your blue collar. callous your hands with pipes and wrenches.

but when you come home and it's late in the day and this little old house is sighing and singing with winter, just find me. in the laundry room out back. and bring me into this room, right here. with linoleum tiles and wood paneled walls.

you bring home the bacon and i'll fry it up. you start the music on the old record player and i'll start swirling before you return. a ballerina in my bathrobe. pretty eyed, pirate smile, yours for the taking.

the great wait

2011-10-31T08:05:00.000-04:00

i thought on this blustery monday, i would have it. at least have the baby steps toward it. that inching toward the light i'd so hoped for. but the meeting for my speech easy has been delayed until november 11. a private matter in the speech pathologist's life that prevented her from meeting last week.

so this monday looks like any other. the frost on the ground outside is slowly melting as the sun creeps up. i've got my coffee cup and my Bible beside me, fuel for the day. pablo is asleep on the bed in the next room, curled up against the chill of seven a.m.

and i will wait. as sarah waited for children and job waited for grace. because it will come. not on my watch or agenda. but nonetheless, it will happen. just as the tree outside my window turned ruby at just the precise time in october. a scheme not my own, but His. and with prayer, i just might grab a glimmer of that illusive patience that has always slipped right past my touch. it's a lesson, this waiting. but one worth learning.

microscope heart : kate

2011-10-28T09:42:00.007-04:00

you guys are in for such a treat today. my sweet friend kate from one size fits most is this week's microscope heart. kate is such a beauty. she's smart, kind and thoughtful. her blog is chock full of inspiration and themes of self-acceptance. be sure to read her "where it began" section for a beautifully written, informative look into her world. she's an inspiration, that one.
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since the introduction of this new series i have been hopelessly trying to narrow down the one thing without fail that can always make me happy. and to be honest, i struggled a bit. i tried to find it, to search it out, but it became artificial. not authentic kate. i would look at my life and try to make something be that one thing and it was never genuine. there are millions of little things that make me happy but when i actually stopped trying to look for it, i found it. its the wind. strong and passionate. its the breeze. light and romantic. and its even a small chill. crispy and humbling.

it could be in the blazing summer. that mysterious little gust that makes the sweat beads quiver for a brief moment and instantly makes you feel renewed. rejuvenated. or it could be in autumn. when the first chilly air of fall lifts up your hair to dance and whip around in its wonder and leaves you yearning for more. it can even be in the dead of winter when you are already frozen to the core but a ferocious wind attacks and nips at your cheeks and all you can do is open your mouth and inhale it deep into your lungs. and for me, lately its been when i have all the windows down driving through the streets of my hometown.

cool october air pouring through all the openings in my little car, cosuming me, and making me feel alive. with no music on the whistling, howling, and soft murmur it creates tells me a story i have been longing to hear and feel deep inside of me.

because the wind has always been a cleansing thing to me. a renewing. a mystery. it flows around you, through you, and inside of you. and you never know where that breeze has been or where its going next. as a little girl i remember my parents always saying, "God is like the wind. even though you cant see it, you can feel it." so whenever i have a moment of doubt, a stumbling block, a rough patch, or am in desperate need of cleansing, i close my eyes, feel for the wind, and am consumed by its wonder. and that to me, is my beautiful happiness.

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thank you, kate, for everything.

what's the smallest thing that makes you happy? tell me here.

scenes from a country cottage: a breath and a rest

2011-10-27T08:40:00.000-04:00

my favorite time of day, besides those five seconds spent on my tiptoes in the kitchen, kissing robert while juggling a purse, bookbag, dog leash and high heels, is mail time. it's not a long walk to our mailbox. not like my parents' driveway, that long, curved asphalt.

it's just a straight walk on a gravel drive. under pin oaks and the sun, setting sooner than i would like, spreading a golden bath on the day. and quite honestly, i never get any mail, save for a few celebrity magazines and some bills (such is the fodder of a young woman i suppose.)

but it's the walk that counts. those seconds, brief and fleeting though they might be, are solely mine for the taking. for the savoring and devouring. a reprieve between work and home. a soul recharge.

and autumn is busy. it's gorgeous, but its hurried and full of festivals. pumpkin patches. county fairs. i'm afraid i've thought too much about the season as a noun--the way it tastes, smells and feels. i've reduced it to an idea in a storybook, a paragraph on a page.

but i haven't sat. on a white swing in the sunset. with the evening hitting me square on my closed eyes. and thanked the Lord for october. for the change that's in the air. and for the anticipation of something on the horizon, just past the mailbox, and before the hill up ahead. a moment of flat, solid ground before the leap. a breath of cool before the cold.

someone's got a dirty mouth

2011-10-26T09:06:00.001-04:00

like mamas who stuff lollipops in their purse before church, we know all the right bribes to make pablo stay quiet. our go-to incentive is a little treat filled with peanut butter. perfect for those nights when we want to watch modern family, work on homework, or just hang out without a pup on our laps, begging to play.

the only problem is, he looks so darn cute afterward. so cute that i turn off the television, shut the laptop and invite him into my arms.

and shows get missed. homework piles up and alone time isn't so alone anymore. but one look into those chestnut brown eyes and suddenly it doesn't quite matter as much as it used to.

to order vanilla

2011-10-24T09:24:00.001-04:00

xxx

i grew up eating chocolate ice cream, because i couldn't say vanilla.

-speecheasy video

one day in middle school, mama laid a newspaper clipping on my pillow. a new device had been created. a teeny, in-ear mechanism that would essentially create an echo of one's own voice when speaking. the tool was heralded to greatly reduce stuttering, as many stutterers experience relief when speaking in unison, and the device's choral effect did just that.

so the speecheasy was born. but at fifteen, i was more interested in cheer practice. in that awful algebra class. the boy down the row at the cafeteria who whispered to me during silent lunch. so i tucked the clipping away, lost in the tupperware container under my bed, the one filled with photo albums. movie stubs. printed-out AOL conversations too sweet to delete. forever doomed to be lost among the relics of my youth.

but then i grew up. dated then grew apart from the boy from the cafeteria. graduated and got a job in a city. that algebra class gave way to a master's program. such is the ebb and flow of life.

but last week, it hit me. this realization that while i am special and perfect just the way God made me, there is this technology out there. this special work of man that could give me just a little, a smidgen, of relief. from the tense, locked jaw and squinted eyes i get every time i give a presentation (i actually stopped halfway though my speech last time and apologized to the crowd.)

so i researched the speecheasy. and became discouraged. the sum of money expected for something no bigger than my thumbnail was through the roof. and for this frugal, thrift-store-loving woman, it was enough to send my heart to my knees.

but then, at eleven o'clock last thursday night. with pablo asleep under the lamp and a blanket around my knees, robert came into the den, an envelope of money in his hand.

he had saved all year, hoping to open up a retirement account in december. self-employed, he doesn't have a 401K. so he had squirreled away, week by week, in hopes to start a nest egg for himself and for us.

but that night, he just reached out his arms, and handed me the envelope. i want you to use this, he whispered, for your speecheasy.

it was the exact amount, to the dollar, i needed. every last penny of my need met, by draining every last penny of his. a God moment so spectacular.

it was entirely selfless, incredibly beautiful, and enough to send me into a gut clenching sob.

my appointment is friday.

and i am nervous. i am anxious and scared and full of questions. but there's this man who sleeps to the left of me, and this morning he left me a love note on my laptop. and finally, nine years later, i'm ready to take that step. with one eye on Him and the other on him. oaring my way through these seas. a beacon of light on the shore.

microscope heart: charla-beth

2011-10-21T09:00:00.000-04:00

today's microscope heart comes from my sweet friend charla-beth. not only is she a beautiful, talented writer, she has a heart of gold that shines so sweetly for our Savior. be sure to check out her blog here.
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When I first decided to send something in for Microscope Heart, I made lists upon lists of the littlest reasons for joy. And those lists turned into more lists.

But the very first thing I thought of, the first item I wrote down and the one thing I kept coming back to... was the smell of morning.

Like that rich smell of the summer between ripened fruit and freshly cut grass. Or the crisp smell of autumn when the earth's buds begin to close her petals and morning dew quickly turns to frost. There's that frosty bite in the air after new-fallen winter rain. And come spring, the smell of fresh earth and new blooms permeate the air. Regardless of the day, the month, or the time of year, every morning has that “new day” smell that I simply can’t get enough of.

And everything in my being knows that it is good. Because with the fresh smell of morning comes the reminder that I have been given today. And even if yesterday was a hard day, a stumbling day, a weep-worthy day, the morning brings a reminder that creation is renewed with each and every sunrise. Myself, included. :)

“Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning...” {lamentations 3:22-23a}

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see what i mean? gorgeous. thank you, sweet friend.
tell me about the smallest thing that makes you happy here.

days seven and eight: the end

2011-10-20T08:40:00.000-04:00

if there's anything this trip taught me, anything i learned over the miles we trekked and state lines we crossed, it's that this country of ours is something else. from towering maples that produce some of the sweetest, purest syrup i've tasted, to apples the size of basketballs and foliage so pretty it makes my heart ache, i was in awe.

our last two days were devoted to touring the local economy. we sat in a cold sugar house and watched a video on the making of maple syrup. the owners brought us blankets and cider and the video was nice and short. we toured cabot creamery, sampling 25 different cheeses before nine a.m. then came ben & jerry's, green mountain coffee company, wilbur chocolate factory, and even the teddy bear factory. we learned about the land, and what fabulous goodies spring out of its bounty.

we spent our last night in amish country, waiting behind buggies at crossing lights. it was pure, spacious, clean and idyllic. and being so far out, amid the farmhouses and silos, it almost felt like home.

these two weeks back have been an adjustment of sorts. of papers and studying and work and pablo. but we've settled back into our routine quite fine. because as i've said before on here, traveling is fun. it is beautiful and worthwhile and downright thrilling at times. but nothing in this world beats your own bed. and the pin oaks by the cottage are just turning to crimson and i'm so thankful to be home underneath them, thanking the sweet Lord for getting us back safely. and for the ho-hum drill of an ordinary, quite spectacular life.

day six: a clear morning, a state fair and the journey

2011-10-19T09:52:00.001-04:00

it struck me as odd, but strangely inate. for some reason, the cliffs of maine felt familiar, as if i'd walked them years ago, on some dreary winter morning with my boots on and hair pulled back. and as we passed the little cottages on the path down to the water, i thought about, seemed to remember, a life lived on the shore. i think it's in my bones, this being close to the ocean. like some old forgotten song settled into my blood, turning on and playing louder with each step of my moccasins on the damp soil.

our morning in maine was a sleepy one. it was quiet on the island. one of those cold, bright, clear, sunny days when autumn shows off a bit. we ate breakfast beside a warm window in the general store. thought about the near end to our trip, and all the miles stamped on us. our GPS. our soles and souls.

but what the morning lacked in noise and color, we found a few hours away. at a little county fair on the state border. on a whim, we followed a handmade sign off the highway. into the front yard of an elderly couple we did not know, who allowed us to park there. the ones with children in north carolina, who lit up at a chance to talk about them. who we stood around and talked to long after the fair had lost its appeal and the sun was setting.

we ate whoopie pies. examined prize pigs, chickens, and roses. handmade quilts and honey. horse shows by the track. we missed our hometown fair, and found the next best thing in this nugget of spontaneity, beneath the ferris wheel and big top.

i remember a park in albuquerque. standing beside the lake at closing time. watching the swing set sway as evening rustled the leaves around. i had felt it then, this déjà vu. of not wanting to leave for fear of losing it.

we left maine, but i felt it in vermont too. forgetting myself and blending. in all of the north, really. except when i asked for sweet tea, then i remembered.

day five: the maine lobster experience

2011-10-18T09:26:00.000-04:00

there we were. two kids from the carolinas. raised on barbecue and fried chicken, used to grease. used to the messiness of eating with our fingers. the stickiness and sloppiness of it all.

but nothing could prepare us for that night in maine. the restaurant we reached at nightfall, the water and air the same shade of ebony. we were there too late to see the sunset flicker off the atlantic, or push the light out of each other's hair like we did on the vineyard.

we sat in the deep booth anyway. ordered the lobster. the one we'd waited for the whole trip. the waitress brought out the array. the buckets. the bibs. the nutcrackers. this was our first experience, and the whole thing was alien.

and the mess. oh, you guys. i think i was doing it wrong. my dress was ruined. robert spent about twenty minutes on one claw. we were so juvenile. amateurs. then, what started out as a giggle turned into a guffaw, and we shook the booth trying to maintain some air of civility, both of us trying not to look at each other, only our pitiful lobsters, tears streaming from the hilarity of it all.

somewhere behind me, a group was talking loudly. i heard snippets like "napa valley" "when i wrote my first book" and "oh, he's traveling for photojournalism." they were feasting on a four-course lobster meal, drinking red wine by the bottle.

they were completely spotless.

we paid and left out the side door, our bibs hanging in shreds in defeat. let them have their white linens. their unsmeared lipstick and powdered noses.

we'll have each other. and the dirt and muck and squalor that inevitably will come. just as in the morning, all is washed anew, with 24 more glorious hours to sink our teeth and elbows into all that life has to offer, embracing the mess, shying not.

day four: a tour on bicycle

2011-10-17T08:24:00.002-04:00

there was an old man named wilbur sitting at the bus station. with a cane in one hand and the other inside his down jacket. we sat beside him in the early hours of dawn, the sun still struggling, reaching to rise. in the cold that only that hour can bring.

he was just one of the people we would meet that day, on our journey to, around, and back from martha's vineyard. wilbur was traveling to see his brother, who lived alone on the vast island. the one he hadn't visited in years. then there was the woman aboard the ferry took her labradoodles across the water weekly. for sunshine on a new coast. the one who knew places to rent bikes, eat lunch, and avoid. the two friends also on a road trip, heading to the vineyard with no plans but to explore. to run and taste and smell and hopefully find an inn available.

and besides a lunch that cost more than i usually spend for a week's worth of meals, the vineyard did not disappoint. it was calm. above all, above everything else, the greenery, the gingerbread houses, and even the water, it was the sense of calm that swept about me, nipping at my toes as we rode in the dusk. when evening falls on shops at closing time, on an island past its vacation season, something magical is in the air, something only locals are privy to and we felt like giddy outsiders.

we drove overnight to boston, arriving an hour before midnight. we walked beneath lights unfamiliar and held hands as rain started down. our room was tiny, but the ceilings were tall. and we slept another night in a strange, dark room, squeezing together in a double bed. miles to go, but many more beneath our soles.

microscope heart: lauren

2011-10-14T08:45:00.000-04:00

this week's microscope heart is from lauren, who blogs over at pack n' play. lauren is such a sweet spirit and writes about life in the city with MD, fabulous recipes (she recently ushered in crock-pot season, a girl after my own heart) and on fridays, she posts dance music. perfection. thank you, lauren!
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I am not a city girl, but somehow I have found myself in one of the busiest cities on the east coast for over 5 years now. There is a little gem of a reservoir where I escape to everyday after work and remember what it is like to just watch the sunset. I often forget where I am in those moments, it makes me feel like I am right back home.
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thank you, sweet friend. be sure to check out lauren's blog here.
what's the smallest thing that makes you happy! i'd love to feature you. learn more here.

day three: the prettiest walk of my life

2011-10-13T09:07:00.000-04:00

there's a little black dirt path that runs beside our little cottage. it's about a mile long, flanked by sheds and maples. i love to walk along it when evening starts to strike and the light is low and golden. up until last week, it was my favorite walk on this earth.

then we went to newport, rhode island. and took the cliff walk. and i declare, one would be hard pressed to find a more spectacular pathway. rocky ocean shore on the left! mansion upon mansion on the right! rosebushes. towering skinny trees reaching toward the cloudless sky. grassy lawns screaming for a morning picnic.

it started brisk, but with coffee warming my hands and my pashima around my neck, the sun quickly seeped in and warmed our red noses. it was so, so incredibly lovely.

this was the day of the second french fry sandwich, at the little pizza joint we found ourselves at after the planned seafood restaurant was closed for the season. the day of the cape cod potato chip factory tour, a bit of a letdown, taking only about one minute to go through. (however, if this trip taught me anything, it's that i love a good factory tour. i think it's the free samples.)

we reached dennis, massachusetts right at dusk. running to mayflower beach just in time to catch the plum colored sunburst. then, the pristine sky turned on us, growing gray in a matter of seconds, pouring on my bare feet as i ran back to the parking lot.

we sunk into a restaurant just to take cover, not realizing until we sat down and ordered water that the tablecloths were white. there was a wine list on the table. and the waiter was wearing a suit. fancy. we ordered bowls of chowder, satisfied with our humble meal. we were saving the big one for maine lobster.

we were the only ones in our motel that night. the owner explained that no one really comes to cape cod at this time of year. and at that, we shook our heads. because with the leaves changing and fall tiptoeing in, it seemed like the most magical place to be.

day two: from long island to mystic

2011-10-12T08:41:00.000-04:00

the blue of it all is what hit me the most, on this bright sunday in october.

i've seen oceans at sunset, with the ambers and crimsons blending with the graying sky. and i've seen oceans at mid-day, crowded with surfers and sailors, tones of flesh speckling the water.

but as our ferry departed long island, headed toward connecticut, in the early hours, i saw the ocean in an entirely new light--that of morning. that of an absolute blue more pure than i've ever seen in my life. an almost blinding reflection of sun and light and a cloudless sunrise.

we ate lunch in bridgeport, stopping to pay homage to the hometown of your friend and mine, mr. john mayer. because room for squares is still on constant replay in my car and i will forever be enamored with the john of old, pretending that this new john, with his awkward interviews and weird jazz solos is simply a mirage.

then we spent a few hours traveling under the trees at yale. with a tour guide who was a theater major and supremely suited for his role. i rubbed the bronze toe of the woosley statue, a yale tradition believed to bring good luck. because school is hard and work is long and i've got plenty of faith, but a little luck never hurt either.

and we traveled onward. the sounds of conor oberst wafting through the speakers. there's nothing that the road cannot heal. we picked apples the size of our head and feasted on cider doughnuts. this was the afternoon we witnessed the dog get hit. for an hour my heart hurt and the twinge of sadness remains.

our last stop was mystic. that old seaport made famous by julia roberts. we sat in a high-backed chairs and ate the best pizza. seriously, the best. with a little snap to the crust. this was day two. plenty more ahead, more behind.

day one: from philly to long island, and the sights between

2011-10-11T08:32:00.000-04:00

to walk in an unfamiliar city is to experience it for the very first time. to take in with delight every oddity or eccentricity found among the blocks, inside the shops and in the faces of passersby. on our first day in philadelphia, we explored by foot. walking underneath the row houses, past the churches seeped in history, and among the storefronts yawning with morning, only a couple open in the early hours of a saturday at nine.

we sat in old congress buildings and peered into rooms untouched by time. we gathered our jackets around us and sat outside at pat's king of steaks, another, different relic of philly history. we left the city full of its spirit, its love and its splendor.

our travels that day took us up the coast to ocean city. we sat outside a little cookie shop and devoured our wares, trying to blend in with the locals, taking pictures of the shopfront in secret, without the flash. we went onward to atlantic city, where we gambled $2 and lost $1.60, quitting while we still have forty cents to our name and honor.

we supped at rutger's university, by the "grease trucks," devouring a "fat darrell" sandwich: breaded chicken, marinara sauce, mozzarella sticks and french fries. this was not the last time we would eat a french fry sandwich in new england. must be a northern thing? either way, we weren't going to fight its divine deliciousness. we ran to eat under the umbrellas, an impending storm whipping its canvas and blowing my bangs.

this was the night of new york city, of the mania and glory of the lights and sounds of a typical saturday night in manhattan. we drove through the dark to long island, two hours past our designated arrival time.

then, cities and entire states behind us, we tiptoed into the sleeping bed and breakfast, found our room, and retired for the day, already full of memories, little stories, and flashes of glory that road trips bring. and while we already missed home, and the trees by the shed on the cusp of changing, we were an enamored band of travelers, already taken with the land behind and before us.

a snippet

2011-10-10T10:35:00.000-04:00

it was insanely spontaneous, completely illogical and a little ridiculous in the best way possible. that two people, two kids, from the countryside, where the soybean leaves are just now beginning to golden and drop, could find ourselves immersed in new england.

the soles of my moccasins are forever stamped with the feel of it all. with the cobblestone roads of philadelphia, the apple orchards where we kissed beneath the red delicious. the neighborhood sidewalk in connecticut where i sat and cried after we saw a dog get hit. the county fair in new hampshire. the rickety old bicycle in martha's vineyard. the dark restaurant in which we found shelter during a downpour on cape cod.

but perhaps this picture embodies it best of all. we were calculated in our planning, exact in our route. it was our intent to bypass manhattan. to cruise right around it and into long island. but our first night, we found ourselves on the new jersey turnpike, thrust suddenly into the lincoln tunnel, then we emerged. straight into time square.

and at ten o'clock on a saturday night, we drove through the city. the one we've only seen once before. dodging cab drivers and semi-trucks, we paused right in the heart of the big apple. we kissed under a red light and suddenly, a saxophonist began playing our song on the sidewalk. the whole thing felt like a dream.

and moment set the stage, and the tone, for the rest of the trip. it was a special, sacred time for us, peppered with little surprises, some upsets, and the little joys that come when you put the travel binder down and just start driving.

and in return, in essence, start living.

microscope heart...by gwen

2011-10-07T12:36:00.000-04:00

today's microscope heart comes from sweet gwen, who posts over at saturdays with maggy. in a nutshell, gwen's blog always makes me super hungry, even after i just ate. please go check it out and show her some love!
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the smallest thing that makes me happy is the fork.

The fork can mash, the fork can feed. The fork can work magic with cold butter and flour. The fork is my trusty go-to kitchen utensil. It never fails me when the food processor won't process or the beaters won't beat. It knows when the meat is done and how much longer the potatoes need cooking.

My mother was not much of a cook, but when in doubt she'd advise you to use a fork to stir the biscuits or mix the cookie dough. And she's right. All you need is a fork and your hands. It lets you feel the texture of the ingredients, the weight and the thickness. The fork brings me back to the taste of things, the enjoying of things, the slow mixing together of sugar and eggs.

The fork doesn't mind if you scrape the bowl or smash the bananas extra hard because you're mad. It keeps quiet when you eat just one more bite of cake. We can do this thing called cooking, me and the fork, and we can certainly do the eating, too.

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thank you so much, sweet friend! be sure to check out her blog here.

everything...by cara-mia

2011-10-06T07:52:00.001-04:00

today is the last installment in my "everything" series, and i'm so happy to usher it out with this fine lady. cara-mia found her lasting inspiration deep in the heart of words and literature:

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Ever since I learned how to read, I have been an avid reader. I was definitely one of those bookish children that preferred reading over many an activity. Going to the school library was the highlight of my week. Classic books were my favorites, and I feel that is what I learned from the most. (It should come as no surprise then that I majored in English.) Here are just a few lessons I picked up from those beloved books at different stages of life.

This is the very first book series I can remember getting into as a child. (Yes, even before the days of Goosebumps.) I have always had an obsession with red hair, and Nancy was lucky enough to be a red head. She also drove a convertible and solved mysteries, which was so glamorous to me. As if that wasn’t enough, she also had a gorgeous and older boyfriend, Ned Nickerson. More than that, though, Ned seemed very supportive and protective of Nancy, which appealed to me the most about him. Having support from a partner is extremely important.

A series I truly loved in middle school. (So much so, that I wrote a letter to Madeleine L’Engle. She sent back a general typed letter that she sent to fans, but wrote a personal note to me in the margin. It meant so much to me and I treasure that letter.) I could definitely relate to Meg and how awkward she felt compared to everyone else. Junior high is such an awkward time in general, so I'm sure many kids that age can relate to this. In the story Meg learns to appreciate what makes her different, which everyone should do.

I almost do not like saying this is my favorite novel because it seems like a cliché. Don’t most people cite this as their favorite novel? Even so, it is indeed my favorite, and it is also the book that sparked my Fitzgerald and 1920’s obsessions. A close friend of mine once said I favor tragedies. This might be true, but there is much to be learned in tragedies about the human condition.

My second favorite novel. I first read this when I started college (over seven years ago), and I recently reread it. It is an amazing novel with three plots: the story of a man named Adam and his two sons, John Steinbeck’s family history, and the Bible story about Cain and Abel. Since there are three plot lines, there is so much in here to think about, but perhaps the main theme is that of good versus evil and our free will in regards to that. Although I went to Catholic school, I must admit I never gave much thought to the Cain and Abel story – it turns out I didn’t even know the whole story. I thought it was just about a man that killed his brother and was banished. There is more to it than that, and this book explores that idea in a fascinating way. The central message is that man has the choice to rule over sin, which is not only important to the characters in the novel, but to humanity in general.

Thank you for letting me ramble a bit about some of my favorite novels. When I was in college we had an anthology called Literature: The Human Experience. This is how I have come to see literature and why I feel there is much to be learned in novels although they are fiction. I would love to hear anything you may have learned from literature!

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thank you, cara-mia! be sure to check out her blog here.

we're over halfway done with our new england road trip. i've missed you guys! can't wait to share our travels with you on monday!

everything...by amylou

2011-10-05T08:33:00.000-04:00

today's guest post comes from the super sweet miss amy lou, from amylouwho, who found her infinite wisdom in the chords and notes of music. thank you, amy lou!

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Hi everyone! My name is Amylou! I blog over at my little space called AmyLouWho.

When Courtney asked me to guest post, I was really honored. I love her blog and she has an amazing way with words. I always feel inspired when I leave her space! At first I was worried I might not have the words in me to fit in with this theme, but once I started writing, my words just flowed. I'm really thankful that I had the chance to write this post. I feel like this reprents my true self more than anything I've ever written before! Thank you for letting me share a little piece of my heart with you today.

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Everything I ever needed to know, I learned from music. Music has taught me a lot about myself and this amazing life that we live!

I have learned that I am a singer and sometimes even a dancer. I won't profess to be a professional at either, but my mom does like to tell these stories about when I was very young that I think really show how much music means to me. Three years old and my favorite activity was plugging in a movie and singing along while I danced around the room. Sound of Music and Dirty Dancing were my favorite movies as a kid. (Don't worry. I had no idea it was even called Dirty Dancing or what it was about at all!) I just loved to ask my mom if I could watch "Baby and Johnny" dance or hear Julie Andrews sing at the top of her lungs. My love of music started young.

I got my first cassette player when I was about 10. It was just my Momma's hand-me-down that she didn't use very much and we only had a few cassettes in our house. I chose Whitney Houston's "The Bodyguard" soundtrack and played it non-stop for months. I knew that I wanted to have a strong voice like hers someday. Soon I learned how to sing by ear. I didn't give up and learned more and more about music as time went on.

As a young teen, I wanted nothing more than to sing in my church praise team, and I was so excited when I got to join. I really studied songs. I have no idea how to read music theory and I failed to learn how to play piano. What I mean by studied is that I would print out lyrics and memorize them. I would feel the song out in my head. I sang alone in my room daily. Often, the first thing I would do when I got home from school was to turn my stereo on. I played the same song ten times in a row. Soon I learned what singing harmony, instead of melody meant as well, and then I could use my voice in a whole new way. Singing was something I looked forward to every Sunday morning, and while I'm not a member of a praise team anymore, I still usually sing my heart out when my ipod shuffles and lands on one of my favorite worship songs.

My love for music constantly changes and grows. I have a love for so many genres. My brother taught me that I could love Led Zeppelin and The Beatles just as music as I loved NSync growing up. Adele and John Mayer can speak what my heart is feeling just as much as Julie Andrews can. Third Day, David Crowder and Casting Crowns constantly show me how much my Jesus loves me. Each song and melody has a different message. Sometimes I can hear the same lyrics and they might have a completely different effect on me and what I take from them that day.

Lyrics become like my own thoughts. They make me think about love and life and the blessings that I have received. Days like those are when I know that God had something special for me for me to hear. I believe that he uses music to speak to my heart. It might just be our special love language, just between Him and I.

Music has taught me that I am a very passionate person. I love deeply especially for my dearest friends and family. My heart is big! Sometimes it teaches me patience and to trust in my Provider to take care of me through thick and thin. Other times I'm just filled with Joy! I have learned to enjoy the small moments in life and soak in the love around me. To appreciate each day. So when I say that I learned everything that I need to know from music, I guess what I'm saying is that He, my wonderful Lord and savior, really just teaches me so many things through it.
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thank you, girl! be sure to check out her sweet blog here.

everything...by amber blue bird

2011-10-04T08:15:00.000-04:00

Today's post comes from the lovely amber blue bird, who found her lasting inspiration beneath the city lights:
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It all began with an elegantly dressed Aubrey Hepburn casually eating a croissant in front of the world famous Tiffanys. This simple yet decadent scene is what prompted my heart to flutter about for all things New York and thus began my plan to move to the Big Apple. Being just a small town girl from Texas, this move was met with big eyed stares from my family and friends, but after years of pining the dream finally came true.

On a warm September day, I boarded a flight (my first flight ever in my eighteen years of existence) and landed in that magical city to attend Pace University. It was here that I learned one of many lessons, the first being what true friendship means. I met my close knit circle of friends the first day of college and we remain inseparable. From these girls I learned that an open ear can soothe all your problems, that honesty creates the strongest of friendships, ice cream is calorie free as long as you eat it out of the carton, and the only cure for a hangover is another night out.

New York also taught me what love is. I met my now husband Kevin on our second day at college and we have been an item ever since (nine years to be exact). We held hands for the first time on the Brooklyn Bridge, found “our” restaurant in Little Italy, and got engaged under the Christmas tree in Rockefeller center. I learned what it feels like to be unconditionally loved, that in every argument there is a lesson to be learned, and leaving dirty socks on the floor even though the hamper is only three feet away is no reason to throw said socks in the trash.

New York really did become my ultimate teacher. I truly believe that I discovered myself under its towering skyscrapers. As my time in New York progressed so did my self confidence. I learned that inside myself I held a confidence that could not be deterred, that I was a take charge kind of lady, that nothing is more important than your family and friends, and that my humor was the stuff of legends. I learned all this and then some under those bright lights of New York City.

thank you, amber! be sure to check out her funny and fashionable blog!

everything...by gentri lee

2011-10-03T09:10:00.001-04:00

hey guys! while i'm in new england this week, i've entrusted my space to a couple of fabulous bloggers, in a new little series called "everything i ever needed to know..."

this series will focus on the place, be it kindergarten, grad school, or that one hot bath on a tuesday two years ago, when it all just clicked. when looking back on it, that's where it happened. where a little bit of life's wisdom stuck around longer than usual.
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to kick us off, please meet miss gentri lee and the place she's found lasting inspiration, hope and beauty:

Hello Courtney's lovely readers! My name is Gentri and I blog over at Gentri Lee. I am so grateful to be guest posting over here today. Courtney's blog is definitely a favorite of mine. Her writing is probably the most beautiful out there.
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Today Courtney asked me to post around a theme. "Everything I Ever Needed to Know I Learned in..."
My answer:

Blogland

And I am not kidding. Just in the short time I've been blogging I've learned how to be more creative, and adventurous. I've learned photography skills, cooking skills, and healthy tips. Here are some examples.

Creativity:
{Head Band/ Collar}

{Craft Room Makeover}- ignore that ancient tv

Adventurous:
{The Hand Tram}

{Rock Climbing}- Something I always swore I would never do.

Photography:
{Lake Louise}

{Aly's Photos}

Cooking:
{Berry, Cinnamon Almond, Spinach Salad}

{White Chocolate Ritz Cookies}

In short, blogging has taught me more about myself. I've developed talents, interests, and skills I never knew I had. I've made friends from all over the world, and I now view the world for the beautiful and exciting place that it is.

So thank you to all of you bloggers out there, for helping me become a better person. For giving me inspiration, hopes, and dreams.

I hope that you can all stop by my blog. I'd love to hear from you and see what we can learn from each other. Thank you Courtney for your beautiful words and for letting me guest post. It was a wonderful experience. :)
Love,
Gentri

microscope heart : sarah

2011-09-30T08:39:00.001-04:00

for this week's microscope heart series, i am so happy to introduce you to sarah, from desirous of everything. pretty sarah is living every english major's dream as a librarian in manhattan. she's quirky and cute and just the sweetest thing. her blog is a beautiful collection of musings, writings, and snippets of life with her love, alex. please do stop by and show her some love.
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I try and recognize tiny things that make me happy on a daily basis if only for the reason that it makes life more fun! Which is why I was so excited to try Courtney's Microscope Heart challenge. When I sat down and thought about it, I found myself experiencing this weird paradox of not being able to think of anything, and then not being able to think of only one small thing to focus on! Finally, I realized that for me, scent is one of those tiny little things that always make me happy. Just this weekend, while spending time down the shore with my family, my dad made some amazing steamed muscles in a garlicky white wine sauce and the smell of it sent me over the moon with joy, even more than the taste I think. I kept bending over and inhaling that big beautiful bowl of food.

I think when I stopped and smelled that delicious scent, it was really a moment of reflection. Like my mind was able to stop for a minute and really appreciate what a great weekend I was having, how lucky I am to have family and friends that love me and yummy food to share with them over frozen margaritas, Ray Charles singing in the background and lots and lots of laughs. My microscope heart moment came from a smell, but really, brought on so much more than that.

You know that old saying, "stop and smell the roses?" I guess whomever came up with that really was on to something! It's the smelling part that brings me an instant joy, but the stopping part is probably the most important. A wonderful and delicious smell causes me to pause, breath in real deep, smile, and remember the things that are most important to me.

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thank you so much, sarah!

what's the smallest thing that makes you happy? i want to feature you! find out more here.

an open call for suggestions and travel tips

2011-09-28T08:20:00.001-04:00

she is ready. after a few months of preparation, our new england road trip travel itinerary has been set. in a bulging one-inch binder complete with sheet protectors. i even broke out my special "birds edition" post it notes from anthropologie, the ones that cost as much as a new hardback book, for the occasion.

i've managed to condense the intricate details into very broad overviews of travel stops along our way, outlined below. we leave very soon!

and though the big plans are set, i've left a little room for adventure. for exploration. for back roads and little roadside diners. for spontaneity in a land unknown. the most fun we had on our west coast road trip last year was at midnight in a denny's near fort bragg, california.

**post edit: i totally realize the ben & jerry's headquarters is in VT. we've got it planned that way. sorry for the typo!

and here's where you come in! please, please share your new england must-sees. i'd absolutely love to hear them. because though i'm from the east coast, bear in mind that i am from a small town that only recently got a stoplight and a wendy's. and growing up, we only went to myrtle beach, and as lively of a time as that is, i'm certain you guys could show me a better one!

learning a lost art

2011-09-27T08:27:00.000-04:00

she had the couch reupholstered last year. the one right by the front door, in a pearly shade of white. clean, like a sno-cone before the grape juice seeps into the cracks.

but no one really comes to sit there anymore, except her husband, when he needs to see the television. or stretch his legs. except the woman who lives next door, with a son not much younger than hers, in his fifties.

but in early evening, when the day's baking is done, when her grandson has gone home for the night and her husband's head is drooped down in slumber on the recliner, dolores sits there. under the lamplight around seven thirty. bathed and in her nightgown, with a heavier scent of powder than she wears for the daytime.

and she embroiders. tea towels. baby bibs. his and her pillowcases. old iron-on patterns she's kept since the sixties. new ones she found on sale at hobby lobby. she has to go slow, and it takes her weeks to finish one pattern. she has the shakes now, she says.

and robert's grandma has offered to teach me. how to embroider. how to choose the right shade of thread to make the bear's belly brown and the flowers pale pink. to make loop stitches and knots. once we get back from our new england trip, a weekly evening jaunt to her warm little house in the city is on my agenda.

it's a lost art, this sewing business. this making pictures out of string. but like the woman who relaxes to it, i'm convinced it only gets better, gets richer and more beautiful, with age.

2011-09-26T18:55:00.000-04:00

in these memoirs or recollections there are gaps here and there, and sometimes they are also forgetful, because life is like that. intervals of dreaming help us to stand up under days of work. many of the things i remember have blurred as i recalled them, they have crumbled to dust, like irreparably shattered glass.

from what i have left in writing on these pages there will always fall-as in the autumn grove or during the harvesting of the vineyards-yellow leaves on their way to death, and grapes that will find new life in the sacred vine.

my life is a life put together from all those lives: the lives of the poet.

-neruda, memoirs

what to do when it rains in carolina

2011-09-26T12:38:00.000-04:00

this weekend was spent under a cloud of mist. like a warm blanket straight out of the dryer, the haze hung against us, cocooning us. in our beds. our homes. our shopping malls.

and when it rains in north carolina, especially after a particularly dry patch of sunshine that lasted into the evening, there are only a few things left to do. we beat the sludge by staying indoors, ushering in a new season by letting our senses go amok, wild even.

we went to the local county fair. this fair is small. the kind where you don't even want to think about how quickly the rides were put up and you can easily tell the hoops on the basketball toss are ovals, skewed so no child can win that illusive inflatable baseball bat. we ate country ham sandwiches as the sun set, and learned way more than we ever needed to know on the art of beekeeping from our local chapter.

then, on saturday, we indulged in live music. in .75 iced lattes sipped in a dark bookstore basement. listening to a band who wore flower garlands in their hair and on their mics. we ate frozen yogurt too heavy to finish, with hot fudge like i haven't had in years.

it was a good weekend, this rainy one. a good scrubbing of september to make way for the wash of october.

microscope heart : christina

2011-09-23T08:50:00.000-04:00

for this week's microscope heart, i'm so happy to feature my friend christina from brown town. i first met christina when we were in bible study together at n.c. state, and our friendship grew from there! she's a beautiful, strong woman of the Lord and i love reading about her life with brandon and all their precious furbabies. thank you, christina. we've got to meet up in raleigh soon!
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Touch is one of the most powerful human interactions. It creates the tingle down your spine, the butterflies in your heart, the sweat on your palms, and the emotion in your heart. The slightest touch can change your entire mood and make your heart do a flip-flop. I’m not talking about big touch like a handshake or a hug, no it’s those small, microscopic touches that warm my soul and make my heart sing. Those small touches bring joy to my life and are always sure to put a smile on my face, even in the most difficult of times.

It’s when Brandon places his hand, ever so lightly, on the small of back. The message it sends is so much bigger than the size of the action. It says “I’m here for you." It says “I’m thinking of you” and of course it says “I love you." The world can come to a complete stop when I feel the warmth of his touch.

The beauty of it is that my sweet hubby doesn’t even realize the magnitude of this small action. Placing his hand on my back is not as intentional as a kiss or a hug and that is what’s beautiful about it. It is a natural thing for him, maybe even subconscious. That’s what makes it a microscopic heart action. It is one of those tiny things in this big world that makes me stop and remember what in this life is worth living for. It is this small action that ripples into much larger joy and that is what matters in life.
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thank you, christina! what's the absolute smallest thing that makes you happy? tell me here.

modern family, interrupted

2011-09-22T10:11:00.000-04:00

pablo won't eat unless i sit with him. unless i'm rubbing his back and whispering that it's okay, that no one is behind him, that his kibble will still be there if he trots around for a bit. some time in the past, some long ago forgotten memory is lying latent in him. the awful idea that someone might take his food, hit him for eating, or try to nudge him out of the way of the bowl. i'll never know what happened to him those five years he wasn't mine.

but i do know how it is now. how i can't sit down to watch modern family without him nudging me, reminding me he is hungry. i've sat on the floral linolieum in that old farmhouse every single night for the past two years. i've learned the crevices of the squares, the intricate pattern of the sage green and buttercup yellow motif.

but it's a good thing, this being needed. being depended upon. even if it's just by a 13-pound ball of fluff. and when babies come to bless our days, as i pray they do, i'll feel just an inkling more prepared. it's ironic. all this time on the cold hard kitchen floor, and i've become softer.

waiting to exhale (not the whitney movie)

2011-09-21T11:18:00.000-04:00

i actually felt guilty yesterday for sneaking into the company kitchen for a cup of coffee.

with deadlines piling up and the stack of paper and bills on my desk growing with each passing second, time seemed too precious, too fleeting, to waste waiting in front of the keurig machine, listening for the water to gurgle then pour, the steam rising then disappearing into the arctic, conditioned air.

there hasn't been a night in the past two weeks that i have sunk into bed before eleven. that i haven't hushed pablo when he whined to play ball, as i crunched over my little red desk and pecked away at the keyboard. life has been so hurried, so rushed, so fluid that stopping to take a time out has seemed too luxurious. (on an unrelated note, i'm getting "winter hair"--dry, crunchy lifeless locks. this has been the cause of a bit of my stress as well.)

but this morning is hazy and overcast and drizzly and, i declare, it almost feels like winter, with its gorgeous gloom. and work has, for the sweet split-second moment, given me a breath. a deep, gutteral sigh. a chance to slip away during lunch and sink into an overstuffed chair at the coffee shop downtown. and for a little bit, just a little bit, read a book i want to read instead of a textbook. apply my lipstick slowly and let the foam stay on my lips for a little while. daydream into the gray noon.

because life is furiously fast, but those special moments are golden and delicious and every good thing wrapped into one. and its those reprieves that keep me chugging along, at least until the first good rain or snowfall comes and everyone can finally exhale.

the picture above was taken atop the astoria column in astoria, oregon. one place i took a crazy deep, rib bursting breath last october.

25% off for readers

2011-09-20T16:12:00.000-04:00

enter coupon code vintchfall for 25% off anything in my etsy shop. the latest batch is in, with lots of cool-weather essentials perfect for the summer to fall transition. enjoy!

a southern girl meets soul food

2011-09-20T09:02:00.001-04:00

via

there were a few times i thought we'd found it.

there was that little mexican diner on the outskirts of town, with the pineapple pork sopes. that time we ate in the rain after work, pablo waiting in the car. then there was that pizza joint right by the house, with the lotto machine against the dark back wall. the dim lights and the waitress with the ruby lipstick. after a horrendous day at work, the greasy dough went down like manna.

but two weeks ago, we finally found that little hole in the wall we've so desperately sought for so long.

it's called becky's and mary's. there is no sign out front and the only way you wouldn't just drive right past it is by word of mouth. oh, and this article. becky and mary are sisters and together, along with their brother dennis, they have been dishing up soul food in high point since 1961.

the first time we went, we discovered the fried chicken, with its crispy golden crust and buttery meat. there were black-eyed peas and collard greens. homemade potato salad and rice with a deep brown gravy. on saturday, we went back, for candied yams and more rice. moist cornbread. sweet tea with a splash of lemonade. robert tried the juicy porkchop.

the sisters write orders on post-it notes and the food comes out on styrofoam plates with plastic utensils.

it's become a weekend tradition, our new little spot. where people say bless your heart and there's no such thing as an empty cup. i think we found our little soul nook beside the worn out church. it's not fancy, but then again, neither are we.

camping with an eagle scout, on his birthday

2011-09-19T10:01:00.000-04:00

i married an eagle scout.

i'm reminded of this every time we take an evening walk and he points out the constellations. when he tries to teach me the cardinal directions, only to grow frustrated when i insist that north is always the direction right in front of me. he's thoughtful, considerate and most of all, prepared.

when we first went camping, the packing took days. he thought of every last detail, down to a funky light that hung from the tent and cast a pretty glow. he brought pots and pans for boiling pasta, a tarp in case it rained, and a lantern that stayed in the box the entire time.

so for his birthday, i surprised him. when he picked me up at work for our "dinner date" i showed him my car. i rose with the sun on friday morning and packed everything we would need for an impromptu camping trip at the local park. with the floorboards sighing with morning, i got his clothes and toiletries together and packed a bazillion blankets to shield us from north carolina's weekend cold front. i told him to bring pablo.

and together, we set up camp in less than half an hour. and i zipped us three up inside and held them both close as rain bounced off the tent. we talked and ate lunchables deep into the morning.

happy birthday, babe. you're the best, scouts honor.

microscope heart: melissa

2011-09-16T08:21:00.000-04:00

this week's microscope heart comes from melissa, the beautiful writer behind off the cuff. melissa writes with such style and grace! go over and take a peek at the lovely dinner party she had with her friends. if the narrative doesn't make your mouth water, check out the gorgeous pictures. i'm so glad to have such a crafty, inspirational friend in the blogosphere. plus, she's a twin. very cool.
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Oprah did a segment years ago about her "feather," which she defined as an object or item that had special meaning, personally...that made you happy...brightened your day or lifted you up. Hers was a feather. She told us why it was significant but I can’t remember why now. I do remember thinking, what’s my feather? I have since come to have a few.

The first, two book inscriptions I recently found that my dad had written to me. I tore them out and framed them (he passed away ten months ago…a devastating blow to my little world.) But a constant reminder to keep learning and discovering. (He always gave me inscribed books as gifts.)

The second, a piece of bark my late cat Remy Fox Martin left for me; he wasn’t much of a mouser. Perhaps a little, "crazy cat lady," but undying affection and loyalty from my furry friend.

Every morning at 6:15am my alarm goes off to remind me I get to experience another day. I can’t help but notice my framed mementos of my past that inspire me to love completely, enjoy every moment and create a meaningful journey that fulfills me.

What’s your feather? ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
thank you, melissa! what is the smallest thing that makes you happy? i'd love to feature it. find out more here.

a little humor for this weepy thursday

2011-09-15T09:32:00.001-04:00

because i was feeling a bit weepy this morning (do you ever get that way? just weepy...i teared up over a song about trailer parks and shotguns this morning...), and because work is getting tremendous and the days are getting shorter and i need my sunshine more than ever,

i thought i'd share with you something that never fails to make me laugh.

robert is a hobbyist, and is always looking for something new to dabble in. 2010 was the year of home brewing, with concoctions bubbling away in our basement for months.

he decided to name his brew "pablale" a mixture of our dog, pablo, and ale.

and his friend kevin made this label. that is pablo riding a motorcycle. enjoy!

p.s. thank you all for your sweet, sweet messages of encouragement on my presentation yesterday. i may or may not have totally bombed it. maybe the fluency fairy got lost? she certainly visited the girl who went before me, with the killer powerpoint and over-the-top professionalism. better luck next time, right?