snow days

thank you, ma'am

Trying to let working with the guy who just might be the next Heisman winner (and of course...the Bronko Nagurksi Trophy winner) make up for being referred to as "ma'am" 50 times by some high school football players. I tried to get back at them by calling them "kids," but I don't think they cared.

Work is over. Now I'm off to cook dinner for the first time in WEEKS!

Ma'am...sheesh.

things

We bought a fire pit last weekend. The girls want to know why we can't "camp" every night.

"Camping" has led to an obsession with marshmallows. Elly arranged two hundred of them all over the floor this morning.

My freelance job is almost over. I am nauseous with stress.

There is peanut butter smeared on over half of our piano keys.

Mt. Laundry is about to overtake my bedroom.

Feeling guilty that I can only be frustrated with the girls while I am trying to work.

Feeling guilty for dumping the girls off on unsuspecting family members.

Ate a box of donut holes for dinner. Followed by a midnight snack of potato salad and chips and salsa. Stress makes me crave carbs...apparently.

Looking forward to getting passed this, getting back to my old self and getting excited about Christmas.

hair accessories

I have this new headband that I love. And I wear it with this dress, which I also love. But truth be told, Alex has no love for the headband. At a recent cocktail party he spent quite a bit of time positioning us so that the flower of my headband faced the wall. And of course, I spent as much time as possible drawing attention to the headband by petting it and crazily casting my eyes toward it. So I'm curious, dear blog-world friends, what would you do? He hates it. I like it. Do I continue to wear it when I'm with him?

And I am a little curious what you think of the headband. It's like this one, but grey...and um, with spots. Be honest. I can take it.

A very stylish and beautiful woman at the cocktail party told me she liked my flower. I was all "THANK YOU! My husband has been making fun of it all night." She asked me why. I told her I didn't know; he just doesn't like my headband. She recoiled almost in horror and replied, "Oh! Well..you can't even tell it's a headband." Like....it was fine when it was just a spotted flower on your head, but a headband...EGADS!

hello, neighbor

So...I think I have mentioned (a time or two) that I am a fan of The Avett Brothers who happen to be from my hometown. I wasn't living here when they were playing for church functions and wedding receptions. They were already selling out decent-sized venues by the time my mom told me about them. (Yes, people, my mom; I can admit it.) But I had an immediate connection to their music. The musical obsession was pretty new for me when I happened to look up from my taco salad at a local Mexican restaurant and see Scott Avett and his wife walking past my table. There is something pretty cool about making eye contact with someone whose art has touched you in an emotionally profound way.

Then a couple weeks ago, Elly and I were leaving the grocery store when Scott and his wife walked in. I unloaded my groceries in the car and went back into the store fully intending to speak to them. But I was unprepared and worried that whatever I nervously blurted out would be lame and not at all what I wanted to say.

So I thought some about what I would say if I ever happened to see him again. Because how often do you have the opportunity to have a personal connection with an artist whose work has impacted you? But over the weekend I saw Scott, his wife and their daughter leaving a local restaurant just after my mom and I had been seated...and I was too nervous to say anything.

I feel like the universe keeps giving me these opportunities to say "thank you" and I keep letting them pass me by. So maybe next time. Or maybe not. I could end up acting like a complete fool. And the last thing I want is to cringe when I hear their music because of the time I chased down the Avetts in a parking lot and rattled off a bunch of words that didn't make any sense .

What would you do? To speak or not to speak?

(By the way...The Avett Brothers are on Jimmy Fallon tomorrow {Wednesday} night.)

hugs and handshakes

This time each year I am temporarily inducted into a semi-exclusive boys' club. Nearly everyone I deal with for my freelance job is involved with college or professional football. I guess you probably wouldn't be shocked if I told you that the football industry is dominated by men. And for this specific job I am the only woman. I can tell my presence forces an aggravated sense of politeness and restraint. Also...there is no way to slip in the back and pretend to be one of the guys. Flashing arrows and blinking lights that spell "woman" hover over my head. Like the time I had to take my two-year-old to a meeting I absolutely could not miss. Six men in suits and me and Elly at a conference table.

So I guess it shouldn't have been too much of a surprise when I started being singled out in one way or another. But I am still a little surprised by the vehicle....hugs. That's right. When all the men give greeting and parting handshakes, I get hugs. And I'm not even a huggy person. I'm not sure how this happened, but now it seems to be the standard. And really there is no going back without confrontation. I have tried extending my hand, but it is sort of laughed at and trumped with extended arms. Ugh. And I'm not really sure what all the hugging means. Except I am different. And all I really want is freakin' handshake.

timer

I always forget how much I love the camera timer. We hurry to get in our spots. Hold a cheesy pose. Race to see what it looks like. Laugh when we see the wonky angles and crazy crops.

I'm not sure if you can tell, but these two girls were having lots of fun.

the farm

Lately I've been lusting for an old farm house. With cold, creaky wooden floors and a screen door that slams shut with a startling bang. Curtains that partner with passing breezes for friendly dances. The view from the kitchen window of fields and trees and an old red barn. Pastures that are blanketed with fog in the morning and painted gold by the sunset in the evening. Fireflies that chase the dusk and deer that stalk the dawn. Endless places for the girls to explore. Fields of grass and dirt and flowers and weeds and bugs and critters that can transform on a whim to pirate ship or alien planet or fairy garden. Endless acres where there are no rules. A secret place behind a tree that is quiet and all my own; a place everyone knows exists, but no one knows exactly where it is.

And somehow this dream doesn't compromise my desire to live in a city. It's the extremes I love, the middle where I am discontent.

early morning autumn sun

I followed A Year of Mornings before it became a book. And that is where I really fell in love with diptychs. They catch my eye everywhere.

the back room

The room is dimly lit, mostly by lava lamp. I'm sitting on a plush black leather corner couch. Occasionally I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirrored wall. There is shouting on the other side of the wall. It feels like I'm in the office of a nightclub circa 1985. But instead of a nightclub owner, the mustached man in the room with me is my therapist. And despite the lamp, couch, mirror, shouting or even the mustache, I feel safe with him. He asks questions and the answers just spill out of my mouth, even the ones I had planned to withhold for a while. At some point he says the words "family history" and tears fall against my will. In the mirror I see her...the girl who is crying in front of a stranger, the girl who feels stupid talking about herself. And suddenly I remember why I hate therapy.

Not that I expect any of you to hold hands with me and go skipping into a depression blog, but I haven't been feeling great lately. And I finally got that appointment. And now I am "in therapy." And I'll probably blog about it some.

another year

Thirty seemed like the beginning of a new chapter in my life. From that point I thought I would start reclaiming pieces of myself day by day, bit by bit. But somehow I woke up and a year has passed. And I can't seem to remember my dreams.

It's not about getting older. It's about time slipping away before I've found contentment in what I'm doing with this life.

homework for parents

I hate to brag, but I am doing super awesome in kindergarten.

time machine

Campus is a time machine. Cobblestones, tree branches and window panes reminding me of the choices I made then, the blueprint for my life that I was so excited about. Since then I have made so many changes to the plan. Marks from the eraser wearing the paper thin in some places. And so when I am there, I'm a ghost. The cobblestones, tree branches and window panes don't recognize me. And it's bad time to be invisible because I don't really know myself. I know how I got where I am, but I have no idea where I want to go. Feeling lost.

By the way...Avett Brothers tonight on David Letterman.

greatest invention

Super scientific proof that the flat iron is the greatest invention ever.

Seriously...what in the world did I do before I had a hair straightening device?!?

working

The girls are at school. I'm at home working. In sweatpants. With a cup of coffee. Tzeitel at my feet. Bua's piano man behind me. If I Had a Hammer on repeat. Working from home ain't so bad.

what accent?

Taking photos of these "boys" (as Elly referred to them).....


was worth this....

...I think. Ya'll, my poor car didn't have a chance.

lately I've been...

...working. Since everyone around here seems to be having first days, I thought I would share that yesterday was my first day, too! I threw on a dress and went to a meeting, which officially kicked off my freelance job. And I've got to say - mentally, I was totally unprepared. If someone in the meeting had accidentally wet their pants, or spilled a drink, or hit someone else...I would have been on it. But production schedules and scripts and grown-up words are somewhere in the mushy, rarely used part of my brain. I guess it's time to dust them off again.

....listening to Grizzly Bear. And getting excited about new albums from the Avett Brothers and Phish.

....reading South of Broad. I spent the summer reading books written by my former college writing instructor Sarah Dessen. Okay, I'll admit it...I love reading young adult novels, but Conroy is a nice segue back into more mature reading material.

....watching Mad Men. I love when my entertainment is art. The only downside is - the quality of this show has ruined all other television programming for me.

...enjoying the time I get to spend with my girls. I'm looking forward to having three days with them. Hope you all have a wonderful holiday weekend.

happy wednesday

My love for yoga came as quite a surprise to me. I'm not at all flexible. And I used to feel like I needed a good cardio sweat to truly be "working out." But I fell in love with finding intention in my breath, challenging my body and quieting my mind. It's all very addictive. My postures aren't perfect (especially when I'm photographing them myself...and standing on a coffee table), but thankfully yoga isn't about perfection or competition. Yoga has gotten me through some difficult times. It definitely makes me happy.

happy monday

I know. I know. It's only the first day of happy week, and I've already posted pictures of my kids. I promise not to go all maternal the entire week, but I have allowed myself two days to devote to the happiness my family brings me.

When Alex and I were dating, we broke up A LOT. But there was one breakup that seemed more final than the rest. (I know this doesn't seem happy, but hang in there; it's going somewhere.) We had been living in New York. Then the breakup. He moved to Chicago. I moved back home with my parents. And I was depressed. Seriously depressed. I really wasn't sure it was a fog I could escape. I didn't think I could get over losing him and I had no desire to keep living without him. It sounds all cheesy and dramatic now, but at the time it was devastating.

But now we are together. And we have two beautiful children. And we are a happy little family.

So often I think about the girl who used to spend hours sitting in shower crying, wondering how her life would turn out. I wish I could send a whisper back in time to her. I wish I could let her know that everything works out. Better than she could ever imagine.

illness

After being diagnosed with strep throat, I realized having a husband with a broken ankle was a HUGE perk. Ahhh....sweet relief.

If it is possible to die from strep throat, then Alex and I nearly did two days ago. In addition to the obvious sore throat, we had fever, chills and full body aches. Occasionally we drifted into consciousness only to moan and shiver and then drift back out again. My poor sick children were left to fend for themselves. Thankfully we all survived. I'm ready to write off last week and start fresh for happy week.

Thank you so much for all the kind and supportive comments you guys left on my last post. I appreciate every one. See you on happy week!