Our Little Apartment

My Favorite Day is Today.

2009-12-05T16:00:00.004-05:00

Today has been glorious.

I woke up this morning at eight o'clock. It always makes me happy to wake up early on the weekends, because I feel like I'm making the most of out my little two days off. I cleaned for an hour before Mike woke up (Cleaning with no one else awake in the house is a treat. Yes, I am slightly crazy.)

We went to brunch at the adorable Vine & Bean Cafe (our visit was documented here). It's a restaurant in a house - you feel like you're visiting a friend with the cozy dining room and fireplace. A darling 10-year-old boy greeted us and showed us to our table. I have this problem where I can't resist talking to kids if I'm around them. (Last weekend, I got into a discussion with a 3-year-old at Target in the check out line. I'm telling you, it's serious.)

Me: "What a bummer! They make you work on Saturday?"
Him: "I know! Doesn't it stink?"
Me: "I'm sure you'd rather be watching cartoons or something."
Him: "...Actually, I like working because then I can earn money and buy stuff for people."
Me: "You are adorable. Will you be my adopted son?"
Him: "You're freaking me out, lady. Can I get you guys some water?"

Okay, so maybe that last bit didn't actually happen. But I did make sure to give him his tip personally. And tried not to tuck him in my pocket.

I ordered a mimosa and a giant cup of coffee, which made my waitress want to be friends with me. Then I enjoyed the best brunch ever: curried tofu, potatoes, veggies, and buttered toast. Sounds simple, tastes insanely delicious.

During breakfast, I got a call from my aunt that she, my uncle, and their three boys were at a toy store around the corner. The kind of toy store that is filled with the most fabulous toys you've ever seen. The kind of toy store that makes you want to pop out a child just so you have an excuse to buy this, this, or this.

We bought a few presents for Mike's nieces and nephews. This is the first year in our marriage that we've been earning a decent salary, which means we can afford to splurge a teensy bit and get real Christmas gifts! Hurrah!

Seeing my squishy faced 2-year-old cousin and his 5-and-6-year-old brothers (Me: "Do you remember who I am!? It's been forever!" 5-year-old: "Yes! You're Ashley!" Me: Melting.) was equally wonderful. May I say again how much I adore being near my family? Adore.

After stopping by the library to return some things, get a new novel, and pay my fine, we're now at a deliciously cozy local coffee shop, drinking mochas (hazelnut mocha for me, thank you) and I'm about to email some clients about freelance design projects and work on my final for design class.

Hello, dream day, my name is Ashley.

A Bit on Goals.

2009-12-01T20:35:00.003-05:00

Why Goals?

I've set goals on here a few times (July and October, to be exact) and along with my massive list, these little lists really help me to identify what it is I want for myself and how I want to get there. It may be little things, but these little things are all a part of who I want to be. I ~~don't always~~ never achiever all the goals - but it's the idea that I am more mindful about what I am doing and what I want to be doing.

In December, I will....

Stop biting my nails. This is an on and off problem and lately, I've been quite stressed so I nibble constantly on them. Gross and it must stop! My nails can be so pretty when I stop eating them.

Do Pilates, yoga, or run three times a week. Token health goal. For real, though, I'm out of shape in a bad way and it's just sad. No need to talk about how I look - this is about how I feel when I exercise my body every now and then.

Create and list ten original items in my Etsy shop. The problem is, I work lots more this year, which means my creating time has taken a plunge. I have no shortage of ideas or fabric, however and I'm excited to share my new laptop sleeves and quilted cushy coasters. I also hope to create some adorable reusable gift sacks and help reduce the insane amount of waste during the holidays.

Pay my library fine. Uh, yeah. It's bad. And they've sort of blocked my library account from checking books out. Boo to that.

Send Christmas cards. (For the first time ever!) I always feel a little silly about sending Christmas cards before we have kids. Because, really, Christmas cards are only good for seeing cute little children, right?

See my friends! No explanation needed. I just haven't seen most of my friends in far too long. And with so many wonderful people around here, there is no excuse!

Go to bed at 10pm and wake up at 6am. It's Advent - the time to prepare for Christmas - so I'd like to wake up early and spend a little while journaling every morning this month. I know being an adult is all about no bed time, but this month, I'm setting one for myself in hopes I'll be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed every morning (just add coffee!).

Reveling in Adulthood.

2009-11-30T22:14:00.005-05:00

As I type this, it's just after 10pm and I am sitting on my yoga mat in my pajamas after doing Pilates. Before Pilates, I turned the heat up from 65 to 69 after I took a shower. Speaking of the shower, my hair is crazy frizzy, damp, and unruly.

And all of this was after Mike and I went grocery shopping at Whole Foods and threw whatever the heck we wanted into the cart. On the way to the post office, I helped myself to some baguette and sharp cheddar cheese. I just ripped off a hunk of delicious, crusty bread and nibbled some cheese straight from the package.

Mike gave me eyes of judgment that said "That's disgusting, Ashley."

I gave him eyes of correction that said, "No, Mike, this is why being a grown up RULES."

Actually, I said, "If you can't do this when you're a grown up, when can you do it?"

(His parents obviously instilled more manners in him than mine in me. I call the lack of manners a Good Time.)

Sometimes, my 10-year-old self realizes just how awesome it is to be a grown up.

Why?

No bed time. No one to tell you what you should or shouldn't be doing. No one to tell you that going outside with wet hair will make you sick. No one to tell you you can't have that box of Reese's Puffs you're craving like mad. (Hey. Don't act like you're immune to the craving.) No one to say that fudge and bread probably don't make the best dinner.

I remember when I was a kid and couldn't wait for all of this. Sometimes, I complain so much about all the busy-ness of life, bills, and other responsibilities that I forget just how lucky I am.

Now, please excuse me while I go pour myself some more wine into my coffee mug.

Video Blogging: Pre-Hanukkah and Teeny Bopper Shirts.

2009-11-29T22:16:00.003-05:00

Untitled from Ashley Marie on Vimeo.

Thanksgiving + Black Friday in Five Photos.

2009-11-27T19:28:00.002-05:00

I am thankful for...

A husband who plays music. (Especially when he learned Falling Slowly for me.)

A husband who can cook.

Peanut butter. Chocolate. Especially together and in fudge form.

This post-Thanksgiving breakfast.

A sane Black Friday wherein we got this for $8.99.

Enjoy time your family, friends!

Corny, but Still True!

2009-11-26T08:00:00.000-05:00

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

The Piercing Saga Continues...

2009-11-25T09:16:00.003-05:00

So, if you've been playing along, you know that I got my nose pierced this summer and it has been infected and annoying since then.

My piercer told me to just clean it with soap, keep my fingers away from it, and use salt water if it gets infected.

It didn't seem to be working, as my nose was not looking so pretty. I Googled and asked for advice on Twitter about it, resulting in the several purchases you see above. (And the conclusion that Yahoo Answers is a crazy, crazy place.)

I had an entire regimen: spray H2Ocean on the piercing five times a day, dab lavender or tea tree oil on it once, soak cotton balls in hot salty water and apply to piercing for 10 minutes, and apply chamomile teabag to piercing for 5 minutes.

Four-and-a-half-months after I got my nose pierced, I'd had enough. I finally decided to call the piercing and tattoo shop and ask them what I should do.

"Wash it 3-5 times a day with antibacterial soap. And apply a little bit of hydrogen peroxide if you need to."

That's it!? Thanks for NOT being helpful, Mr. Piercing Shop. There is no way that will work.

Except, it did.

Now I just wash it with soap, and cover it at night with a bandage so it doesn't get pulled out again. I changed my clear stud for a sparkly one last night since I'm work-free for six days, and it didn't even hurt.

Nose piercing 0; Ashley 1

32 Hours on a Bus Will Do That to You.

2009-11-24T18:14:00.006-05:00

(I always feel like I'm catching up with friends when I click, "New Post" and start typing away. I kind of like you guys.)

After 32 hours in a bus, two days of walking, a bit of rain, and an amazing experience - I'm back and completely rejuvenated and inspired. (Minus my body, which is achy and sleep-deprived.) I don't think I can fully explain what this weekend meant to me. Everything I can think of just sounds like silly fluff. (My attempts? "It was a festival of love and caring of peace; a river of compassion." and "It made me truly proud to be an American and Catholic." See? Cornball City, USA.)

A few things I do want to remember:

Such an odd collection of humanity. From young families to aging flower children to older nuns who looked like your grandma to college students with 27 piercings in their face - there were people of all ages, races, and religions.

A 4:30am Krispy Kreme donut is equal parts disgusting and amazing.

The whole bus singing Let It Be and Don't Stop Believing accompanied by a college guy playing his acoustic guitar.

Food Not Bombs providing endless free vegetarian meals to everyone. What an awesome movement.

Seeing a dozen of friends from college. It was surreal seeing so many people I knew in a random city in Georgia.

I felt an indescribable sense of belonging. Sometimes it can be a bit lonely thinking things like this, but not this weekend. We are one body, for real.

I think, most of all, the generosity, kindness, and openness of all those I encountered impacted me. Although it wasn't the purpose of this weekend, I was really inspired to take a hard look at myself, who I am, and what I am spending my time and energy on. Big questions like, "Am I being the truest version of myself?" and "What do I want from life?" and "Who do I want to be?" are swirling around in my head, demanding I slow down and think.

Meeting people who are unabashedly themselves do that to you.

See more photos from my weekend here.

Other things to tell you:

- My guest bloggers were awesome, weren't they? Thank you, guest bloggers! You rock. (I'm biased and am totally excited that my little sister did one. Woo!)

- I am insanely excited (and flattered like WOAH) that 20-Something Bloggers picked my post to win the Blogger Carnival: Can't Live Without. My prize is $100 in my Alice.com account. I have an account but have never used it yet, but imagine that this $100 will be the beginning of a long and lovely relationship wherein I can go shopping for organic hair conditioner and fair trade coffee beans in my yoga pants. Sa-weet. (PS: My post is here.)

- My book review of Ten Ways to Change the World in Your Twenties is up at The Greenists. I felt pretty important telling everyone who asked me what I was reading that it was an advanced copy to review. Go check it out!

Guest Post: On being what you want to be when you grow up.

2009-11-23T07:17:00.004-05:00

I am currently in Columbus, Georgia for the annual School of the Americas/WHINSEC vigil and protest.

While I brave the loooong bus ride and being in charge of six teenagers for three days, a few generous souls have kept you entertained!

Today, we have the fabulous Dana, of A Sizable Apple who is getting ready to graduate from college (yay!) and is pondering career choices in this post...Enjoy and be sure to say hi to her!

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The first dream occupation I can remember was the desire to be a furniture saleswoman at the tender age of 6. Other than seeing commercials of energetic, well-dressed sales people over-enthusiastic about holidays, I don’t know how this seed was planted into my mind.

My first logical dream job was to be an art teacher. I love to create and love to work with kids. As a day camp counselor, the summer before I left for college, I realized while spending hours elbow deep in Play Doh was fun; it didn’t fulfill the bigger characteristics in me. I thrive on challenge and competition, with room to explore outward creatively; and I needed to find a field that focused more on that.

I’m writing this, 24 days (not that I’m counting) away from the end of my undergraduate journey. As of today, I could bail out the auto companies with the amount of money spent on college credits, could designate a different Gosselin child for each internship I’ve finished and could compare my uncertainty selecting a major to the great unsolved mystery of Donald Trump’s hair; yet I’m still not certain of where I’m going or what I’m looking for.

I’ve learned lately that few people (even those in the midst of a great career or even near retirement) know what they’re looking for. Despite this, many are excited to share their words of wisdom (solicited and unsolicited, good and bad) about how to figure out what you want to be when you grow up. Among all of it, the best has come from E.

E is my supervisor at my current internship (I’m working on the web redesign team for a local furniture company- a little déjà vu from my original career ambition). About 35 years older than me, her story has helped me understand how to tackle the idea of a perfect career.

At 19, E moved solo to Europe to pursue her dream as an opera singer. She gave voice lessons and wiggled her way into working backstage at some of Europe’s finest theaters to make ends meet.

When she was no longer able to financially float abroad, she moved to New York City. Looking for a way to earn money, she set her sights on Wall Street. With no experience and in an era where women were scarce in the workplace, she fought her way through constant rejection until she was finally given a shot to prove herself. E became a top seller at top financial agency.

To feed her desire for change, E moved to LA. She joined a world-renowned advertising agency, lending her creative talents and undying drive to push huge campaigns for car companies and other nationally recognized brands. At the peak of her career, she packed up again to move closer to family.

E now lives in a city 40 times smaller than NYC, as a corporate communications and marketing expert for a furniture company. She is the leader of a massive web project, despite coming from a generation typically known for technology confusion. She has the spirit, drive and focus that often leaves me in the dust. She keeps meetings lively and participants on their toes, pushing them to think from a variety of directions.

E constantly challenges me to enhance the work I create and gives me great advice through less talk and more example. Her outrageously diverse resume has taught me that life is less about what you want to be when you grow up and more about what you are.

E is a performer at heart; she is successful, happy and full of life because she performs daily.

As a singer, a leader in the country’s largest financial district, a campaign pitcher and corporate communications guru- she performs. E constantly tried out for challenging roles and when faced with rejection, pushed on anyway. She performed for varying audiences; winning trust, gaining approval and practiced with enough gusto to warrant standing ovations. When the performance became too simple and familiar, E pushed onward to a new show.

Though not an opera star, her dreams are still fulfilled because she’s constantly satisfying the characteristics she’s passionate about (albeit in creative, unconventional ways). E has never had one answer to what she wants to be when she grows up, but she knows what she is, and that has been fulfilling in many careers.

I’m certain advice will continue to rain down on me as I embark on the search for full-time employment. The economy is tough, but no matter what I find, if I apply characteristics that have always been with me, like E, I can make any job into exactly what I want.

What do you want to be, and what are you? Does your career align with your personality traits and characteristics? How do you apply your uniqueness to your job and daily routine?

Guest Post: Teaching Mishaps and Other Funnies.

2009-11-22T09:09:00.002-05:00

I am currently in Columbus, Georgia for the annual School of the Americas/WHINSEC vigil and protest.

While I brave the loooong bus ride and being in charge of six teenagers for three days, a few generous souls will keep you entertained!

Today, we have the wonderful Amy, of Just a Titch, who has fabulous taste in television, is genuine and sweet and you should be her friend, too. Plus, she is a middle-school teacher and has hilarious stories to share. See?

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Hi, there! If you've been reading along with Ashley's lovely blog over the past few months, than you know that she's recently started working at a school. I've sympathized along with her as she's tried to balance work AND all of the fun stuff in life because I'm an 8th grade teacher. I know the joy and the challenges of working with students, and how stressful it all can be.

When I get stressed, I tend to be frazzled. During my first year of teaching, it was exceptionally bad. I don't really know how to describe your first year of teaching, but basically it's like learning to tap dance, ice skate, juggle knives and swallow fire all at once, while 13 year olds laugh and point. I started teaching as an intern, meaning that I went to work allll day and then went to class from 5-10 pm. EVERY DAY. On weekends, I lesson planned, cried and tried to maintain some sort of relationship with those that I love.

Anyways, during one particularly rough day in my fifth week of teaching, I was perched on a stool, reading out loud. If I'm being honest, I have to admit that I was reading in character, you know: with VOICES and such. The kids were loving it. And honestly, I thought I was doing a great job. I thought to myself, "You know, maybe this teaching thing isn't so bad! You're doing great!"

Just as I was mentally patting myself on the back, the fire alarm went off. Yes, it was my first fire drill, but moving kids outside couldn't be too bad, could it? You wouldn't think so.

Except.

Except that during the reading, I'd tucked the heels of my shoes around the rungs of my stool, meaning that I was basically hooked onto my stool. The alarm startled me, so I forgot to unhook my shoes. Before I knew what was happening, the stool was falling forward and taking me with it! My entire body pitched forward, slamming into the ground.

Did I mention that I was wearing a dress?

My entire class got a view of my underwear AND got to see me fall face first into the floor and START CRYING, out of pain of body and pain of pride. Plus, I still had to collect my attendance sheets and herd 33 students outside, while they LAUGHED HYSTERICALLY.

I am pretty sure that they will never, ever forget that fire drill. And neither will I.

Guest Post: Conversations with my husband.

2009-11-21T09:09:00.005-05:00

I am currently in Columbus, Georgia for the annual School of the Americas/WHINSEC vigil and protest.

While I brave the loooong bus ride and being in charge of six teenagers for three days, a few generous souls will keep you entertained!

Today, we have the lovely Tam, of Marrying a Medical Student, who lives in the corner of the state I went to college in (yay!) and is at a very exciting time in her life. She's also hilarious.

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I ventured into the wild blog-o-sphere while I was planning my blessed nuptials to a very busy medical student. I stumbled upon blog links on TheKnot and found myself paging through people’s ideas and funny stories. I had plenty of insane stuff going on in my head and an online forum seemed like the perfect place to splatter my daily crazy. I figured there was no reason to keep my thoughts locked up in a hello kitty diary when I could force unknowing suckers to stumble upon my quirks and poor comma usage. A baby was born.

Through my trusty Googly reader stuffed with web subscriptions, I’ve gained access to the lives “internet friends” who, like me, sit at their desks shoveling soy yogurt in their mouths while scanning pages of web content and marking all as read. I’ve been able to connect with these ~~strangers~~ friends and feel relieved that I’m not the only person obsessed with things like cupcakes and shaving my right leg first. I choose to read blogs that make me laugh, help me grow, or share perspectives and I stay away from negativity, snarky rants and husband-bashing. My “unsubscribe” button has proven more effective for my mental health than the dozens of peer mediation sessions I had with that frizzy-haired high school counselor (Sorry Ashley, counselors rock).

One of the most unexpected things to come from my blogging – other than my savvy HTML skillzz and flavor for colorful adjectives – is an imaginary string that runs from the words on my page straight to my husband’s psyche. I’m not getting all soft about how my blog has enabled my husband to know me on a different level (WHICH IT HAS) because I believe nothing can replace personal communication with another snuggly human. But my blog is definitely the Ménage à trios neither of us ever consented to.

On my blog I’ve told stories I never thought he’d be interested in. But was.

On my blog I’ve unveiled inadequacies and fears he never knew I had. But do.

On my blog I’ve ignited a zest for writing and memory I never knew I had. But he did.

On my blog I’ve made promises and resolutions. And he’s helped me keep them.

My blog has made him almost spit out mountain dew in the middle of a boring medical lecture and utter the words “you had better not write about this on your blog” (IN BED).

Sure he makes fun of my “cyber friends” and of course he tires of our private conversations ending up on public display. He gets irritable when I choose to stay up blogging about my favorite face wash when I could be having sexy time with him. But he tolerates my blog, he reads it every day and he finds ways to know me even better through the words that I type.

I’m not bragging about all of the reasons that I have an awesome husband (BECAUSE I DO), I’m simply acknowledging the crazy dichotomy that having a blog has created.

When I found out I was with child, I told my husband I wanted to start another blog to share our pregnancy with friends and family. My husband didn’t tell me I was silly or say “one blog is good enough.” Do you know what he did?

He helped me take pictures of stale M&Ms in my belly button and then he wrote this.

A baby was born indeed.

Guest Post: 6 things you may not know about Ashley.

2009-11-20T12:00:00.003-05:00

I'll be leaving in a few hours for a trip down to Columbus, Georgia for the annual School of the Americas/WHINSEC vigil and protest.

While I brave the loooong bus ride and being in charge of six teenagers for three days, a few generous souls will keep you entertained!

I'm really excited to kick things off with my little sister, Melanie (I wrote about my four siblings here)! She has known me almost 21 years and wrote about it. (It may have made me giggle and then get a little misty-eyed. Maybe. And I may be obsessed with the video she linked to. Maybe.)

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6 things you may not know about Ashley:

She has the tendency to overeat. Always.

It wouldn’t be a meal with Ashley without her moaning afterward: “I’m so full, I’m never eating again!” (recognized in our family as her catchphrase). The funny thing is – she never actually eats that much, and is usually hungry again within the next hour. Whether it’s my similarly small stomach, or the fact that I’ve constantly imitated her behaviors, I’ve somehow adopted the same tendency. Luckily, she has taught us all a very useful strategy: if you massage your stomach in small clockwise circles – allegedly it speeds up the digestive process. Try it sometime!

Though 25, she is still afraid of our parents.

And I am too. (No, I’m not talking about the political tension in our family.) Rather, Ashley and I frequently want to ask our parents for favors, mostly food related (ie. “Can we go to Vegeteranian?” [to which the answer is always no, by the way. The owner once insulted Akron.] or –“Will you pay for us to make copious amounts of cheese fondue and tiramisu?”) Anyways, we always summon Emmie, our 17-year-old sister, to go ask Mom and Dad for us. I’m not sure why we are so afraid; since we’ve never been turned down (Dad loves food too).

She was quite the devious older sister.

Ashley crafted a number of interesting lies as a child, to which Tara and I were subjected, as her younger sisters. She once sat me down to give me a serious talk about how she had just learned she was adopted (she’s not) – but I wasn’t allowed to talk to our parents about it because they would get very mad at her. That puts a lot of pressure on a 6-year-old! Tara tells of similar memories of Ashley telling her she was an evil alien, or telling Tara she had to perform a number of tasks in order to receive a hamster from our parents.

She narrated many a movie to me.

We have a stringent rule in our family that one cannot see a PG-13 movie before they are 13. So when Ashley would go to the movie theatre to see a PG-13 movie with her friends, she would immediately come home and lock us in her room and relay the plot to me in excruciating detail. So when she was terrified at night from seeing Joyride, I was too, though I had never seen it. When I finally watched The Sixth Sense, 7 years after it came out, I was already aware, thanks to Ashley, of the crazy plot twist.

She is shamefully obsessed with the band Switchfoot.

When we went to see them in summer 2006 at the Alive Festival, after every single other concertgoer had left, and the concert area was just a mess of mud where a crowd had once been, Ashley was still latched to the fence screaming “One more song! One more song!” in hopes that Switchfoot would hear her demands and play an encore just for her.

I have always wanted to be just like her.

Ashley is the favorite sister of all of our four siblings – and it’s not hard to see why. I could go on and on about her quirks and idiosyncrasies (all of them lovable) But the bottom line is, she is without a doubt the person I look up to most in the world, and with good reason!

Oh, and this is my boyfriend – jealous?

I Just Realized I Might Be a Failed Neurotic.

2009-11-19T16:22:00.005-05:00

Hello, my name is CRAZY.

In my 20-something blogger profile (let's be friends!) I claim to be "a little ball of contradictions." I've taken the Myers-Briggs personality test half a dozen times, and each time I get slightly different "type"- never extreme, always just slightly each characteristic. The last time I took it, a few years ago, a coworker commented that my moderate characteristics meant I was "wishy washy" and, indeed, I feared it might mean I'm boring.

My boss said it means I am flexible.

I think I am just insanely ambiguous. The test asks a question like, "Do you like to schedule your day?" or "Is your office neat?" Any given day, my answers for these questions will be completely different. Sometimes, schedules are great, other times, I'm a whim kinda girl. My office is neat, then messy. Then neat. I definitely don't enjoy the dichotomous nature of these tests.

It's not just personality tests, though - I contradict myself in so many ways.

Simultaneously....

I get stressed out really easily, but can also be infuriatingly (to *ahem* certain people) laid back.

I hate when our house is messy and clean like crazy in bursts, but I'm terrible at picking up after myself on a daily basis.

I'm a healthy eater, but have zero (I mean, ZERO) self-restraint when it comes to sugary foods. (Zero!)

I act as a realist/bubble-buster/fact-checker to Mike's big dreams, but harbor huge (you might say unrealistic) dreams for myself.

I'm quite confident in my ability to speak in front of others, but get all shaky when it's time to.

I can be loud and crazy and silly, but I can also be quiet and slow to talk.

I fiercely guard my alone time, but miss hanging out with my friends.

I feel gross and bad and wallowy about myself, but am level-headed and practical and can see that I don't have a weight problem - I just need to put down the Joe Joes and step into my running clothes.

I'd like to think it's my flexibility and anti-extremism that has rendered me this way.

But perhaps I'm just crazy.

Do you ever contradict yourself?

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PS: Thank you SOOO much for your support and comments on my Starbucks giveaway. I was surprised to find out I was one of the top three bloggers with the most comments and will be receiving this:

Timbuk2 bag + Bose headphones = !!!!!!

B.

2009-11-06T15:01:00.006-05:00

On a trip to the nursing home where I take high school girls to volunteer, I came across a man in a wheelchair. With his plaid pajama pants, a head full buzzed grey hair, Velcro New Balances, and an adorably shy, sweet smile, I stopped to chat with him.

As we talked, he planted his New Balances on the ground and rocked his wheelchair back and forth. Even though he was well into his 80s, he reminded me of a shy, young boy with a crush as he fiddled with the rim of a paper cup in his lap. He’d glance up at me as he punctuated every sentence with that charming smile of his.

Me: "So, I see you have a giant American flag and a military haircut – were you in the service?"
B: "Yes…well…a long time ago….
I was in….that one….
I’m sorry, I can’t remember."
Me: "It’s okay. Were you going to say what war you were in? What branch of service?"
B: "Um….I….
.....Oh, don’t waste your time with me."
Me: "You’re not a waste of time. I’m here to spend time with you. It’s okay if you can’t remember. Can you remember today? Was it a good day?"
B: "Yes. It was. A very good day."
Me: "What did you do today?"
B: "I, uh…went…to that place…
….
I really wish you wouldn’t waste your time with me."

There is no smile when he says this, only a slight, embarrassed shaking of his head. As if he can’t believe himself. As if forgetting is just so painful. So humiliating. I hate that he feels ashamed of himself.

Me: "B, you’re not a waste of time. I mean, you still have a great smile. What else do you need?"
B: "Really? You think so?"

The smile is back.

Me: "Definitely! It’s great."

Mentally grasping for something that he might remember, hoping that I don’t ask a question that will force him to acknowledge the fact that he…forgets.

Me: "So, do you like coffee?"
B: "Yes! Oh, I love coffee."

The smile grows.

Me: "Did you have coffee today?"
B: "Yes, I did."

Victory. I can tell he’s secretly pleased with himself for remembering something, anything. I ask him a few more questions about how he takes his coffee (with cream and sugar - he likes it sweet, “naturally”) and if he enjoys fall. We chat for a few more minutes. It’s time for me to leave.

Me: "Well, I have to go. It was great meeting you."
B: "You, too."

I walk away.

B: "Um…"
Me: "Yes?"
B: "Thank you for being so understanding."

I walk away with tears in my eyes and my heart fluttering.

The next week, I stop by his room.

He remembers me.

He. Remembers. Me. (And tries to convince me that he’s separated from his wife. But that's another story.)

We chat until it’s time for me to leave.

I walk away.

B: "Um…"
Me: "Yes?"
B: "If you don’t have anything to do, you could…come see me again."

Nubbins of News.

2009-10-28T14:37:00.005-04:00

The mouse saga continues! Oh, wait...I haven't told you about our mouse saga? (Unless you follow me on Twitter. Which you probably did and stopped following me after I made you nauseous when I told everyone I found a frying pan FULL OF MOUSE DROPPINGS in the drawer under our stove.) Call me nasty, cheap, or too sympathetic, but until I see one in my bedroom or they eat my food, I'm not calling an exterminator. Because chemicals are scarier than mice, in my book. Unless they are in my bedroom or eating my food, then all bets are off. Until then, we live in peace, little mice.

Work is beginning to feel cozy and homey. My coffee mug, my candy jar, and my friendly coworkers are becoming routine and familiar. This new positive outlook may have something to do with my coming in an hour later. An extra hour in the morning is making a gigantic difference in my sleep and attitude. I finally got up the courage to talk to Boss about it, and she was more than amenable to my remaining a sane, cheerful individual. Hooray!

I went for over two weeks without a cell phone before activating a new (to me) phone last night. It was glorious. Minus the pouring-my-water-bottle-in-my-purse-and-ruining-my-phone part. No one could contact me through my phone was so nice. Being overly-connected is tiring, yo! (We won't talk about internet/Twitter addiction just yet, though. I'm still in denial.)

The last time I can find proof of getting dressed up for Halloween was in 2005. I haven't carved a pumpkin in years and I've never decorated for Halloween. I'm not anti-Halloween, I'm pro-lazy. (And pro-food. I've baked tons of pumpkin waffles, bread, and muffins and made my own pumpkin pie spice lattes. I even sucked it up and ate a few maple donuts.) Since I work at a high school now, I can dress up for work this year and am considering Hermione Granger. Possibly overdone, but I have frizzy hair, a graduation gown, and a stick that is totally wand material. Done and done.

Several new items are listed in my Etsy shop - including new earring colors and designs. I also have some new packaging. I'm seriously excited to start sending out new orders. Whee!

Free Starbucks goodies - five whole prize packs! - are still up for grabs over here. (Did I mention it's a contest for me, too? So I will continue nagging you!)

I Wear People's Old Clothes And You Should, Too!

2009-10-21T12:35:00.003-04:00

Since I’m three weeks into my four months of second hand-only clothing purchases, I thought I’d share why I’m doing it, how it’s going, and my tips. I’m a huge fan of tips.

Why?

Think about all the energy and chemicals that go into producing cloth, sewing a shirt, packaging the shirt, and then marketing and advertising the shirt. Not to mention the fuel used at as the cotton is shipped to a production plant, then the cloth is shipped to a factory, then the shirts are shipped to a warehouse, and then out to stores. Whew!

Compare this to a second hand shirt which likely traveled from a person’s house to the second-hand store. Also, by reusing the shirt, it diverted from a landfill. Winner!

Plus, I have honestly enough clothes. I really do. (Uh, just don’t tell my husband I said that.) With a small closet and a dresser full of clothing – I’m not going naked any time soon. I examined the reasons I buy new clothes – for a specific occasion or because I’m bored with my clothes. I’m not a huge shopper, anyhow. (Malls give me hives. It used to be fun to ‘hang out’ there in middle or high school, but now I never go unless I have to get something specific to pick up. Like H2Ocean at Hot Topic. And let’s not talk about how much I stuck out like SORE THUMB at Hot Topic in my little floral skirt and purple-streak-less hair. I felt like shouting, “DON’T JUDGE ME! I HAVE NOSE RING! AND BELLY BUTTON RING! I’M REBELLIOUS, TOO!” See, that’s what malls do to me. I feel utterly un-cool at them. And overwhelmed. Moving on.)

So, How’s It Going?

AWESOME!

I mentioned that sometimes I buy clothes because I’m bored with my wardrobe. And then sometimes I don’t even wear the new clothes much. And then sometimes I realize I’m getting rid of things I HARDLY WORE. It’s a painful cycle of mistake clothes bought out boredom. Buying second-hand makes this a little less annoying, because at least if I get rid of something I hardly wore, I didn’t buy it brand new – wasting all of the resources (including MY MONEY) that went into the clothing.

It still makes me mad at myself, though.

I also tend to fall into that terrible trap of not wearing everything I own because I have too much of it. Paradoxically, when I have less clothes cluttering up my closet, I wear more things! It’s amazing!

Simpler = better, once again.

I satiated my clothes boredom by shopping at Plato’s Closet twice this month – a grand total of $50 for a pair of shoes and half a dozen shirts. Win.

Tips!

Try not to rule out second-hand clothing because you think it’s OMG! SO NASTY! to wear other people’s clothing until you check out a consignment shop for yourself. There are plenty of higher-end consignment shops that even a person who would never THINK of stepping foot into a thrift store would adore.
Be prepared for thrift stores that don’t have changing rooms. Sad, but true. I’ve been known to wear a skirt and leggings to try on pants – just hike up the skirt and wiggle into those jeans! Or try on shirts over a tight tank top. Or have a friend hold a sheet around me. I have no shame. But I’m fun in a thrift store!
Scope out stores in nice suburbs or neighborhoods – the kinds of places where people might shudder at the thought of wearing Banana Republic clothes from last season. Their loss, your gain.
Take your clothes to a consignment shop or second hand store and you might just make a little money. If all else fails: Goodwill! Never throw away what can be reused…or Mother Earth will smite you.
For young adults: Plato’s Closet. Yeah, it’s for juniors – but I’ve found tons of insanely cute, name brand clothes in there. Just be prepared for feeling like a teenager.
Wash it before you wear it. Yep. Do it.
Clean out your closet! I cannot say it enough - simple is better. You will be happy. I promise you.

Joyful Star - an Etsy shop update.

2009-11-18T10:19:00.004-05:00

First column from top: lily love 2 - choose a ring. the green pear - a perfect tote. button love - choose a ring. greens and forests - a quilted reusable coffee sleeve. aqua and olive - a quilted reusable coffee sleeve.

Second column from top: maroon and mint - a perfect pair. your name here - custom business card envelope. pears and apples - a quilted reusable coffee sleeve. owls and swirls - a quilted reusable coffee sleeve. big rose post earrings in aquamarine.

I've been busy trying to give my shop a little bit of a makeover - new banner, new packaging, and lots of new products! I also created a new pattern for my reusable coffee cup sleeves - I taught myself how to quilt and they now have snap closures:

I can tell how impressed you are with my quilting skills.

With only five more weekends until Christmas (wait. what?), I look forward to spending a lot more time hunched over my sewing machine...Oy! I'm so not ready for Christmas!

(But, oh, I so am.)

A Tour of My Happy Place.

2009-11-17T20:04:00.007-05:00

Welcome to my craft room/office/closet! I always enjoy getting a little glimpse into the homes and lives of others, so I thought I'd treat you to a little voyeurism. Here is my half of the room:

It very rarely looks like this. The floor is usually covered in fabric, stickers, pins, and tissue paper.

Storage and sewing books!

I like to surround myself with things that make me happy...like this...

And this...

And this...

And this...

My latest fabric favorites and a teensy bit of my fabric addiction.

I'm sort of in love with happy tape to give a package a finishing touch. (A package with this tape is far more exciting than an Amazon package, right?)

My front porch is my morning photo shoot spot. It's fun when my neighbors look at me.

Thanks for visiting! I hope you enjoyed your little tour of where all of this is born.

PS: If you look at these photos in my Flickr stream, I have included notes. Fun!

I Don't Do "Balance" Well.

2009-11-16T14:25:00.002-05:00

I began blogging as a way to keep in touch with my friends while in Hawaii for a semester.

I continued blogging because I was enthralled by the idea of this world where people wrote as a way of communication. Writers spent time expressing their thoughts and readers took time to read and respond.

This blogging thing seemed to encourage us to take the time to listen to each other. Sometimes we giggle together, sometimes we learn together, and sometimes we disagree. But, we’re always talking.

And I love that about blogging.

I love that blogging has led me to some of the sweetest, kindest, and most wonderful people I’ve ever known. When I cry, you send me emails to see how I am. You make me laugh with your silly stories. You make me want to be a better person. You encourage me to be who I want to be. You even support my little Etsy shop and freelance design work. You are amazing.
The price of getting cozy and comfortable in this wonderful little corner of my life, though, is that I have neglected other people and other pieces of my life that I love dearly.

.

.

.

It makes catching up with an old friend quite one-sided when they’re updated on all the details of your life from your blog. You start out on a story while at coffee with a friend, and wonder, “Am I repeating something I wrote?” Your friend confesses to loving your blog, but feels “like a total stalker” for reading it. You don’t send birthday cards, you tweet birthday wishes instead. You get lazy about keeping in touch. Your husband begins to feel neglected.

You love blogging and you love your “real life” friends and family.

You seek to find a balance.

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Psst: In honor of being more "balanced," I'd like to solicit a few guest bloggers for this weekend. I'll be heading down to Georgia for a work trip. Leave a comment below or email me if you're interested. Thanks!

Her-My-O-Nee.

2009-11-02T11:07:00.004-05:00

A few weeks ago, Mike and I were on a walk and I saw a perfectly straight, twelve inch long stick on the ground.

“It’s a wand! I should be Hermione for Halloween!” I proclaimed. But I dropped it back on the ground, thinking it was a bit too early to go wand-hunting. Surely I’d find another in a few weeks. We continued our walk, and I continued chattering away about what a perfect wand I’d found. And maybe I shouldn’t have dropped it. I mean, perfectly straight sticks don’t just grow on trees, you know!

Mike finally interrupted me, “Do you want me to go back and get it?”

I smiled and he ran back and got it for me.

Yes, we are 17-year-olds.

And yes, I was totally Hermione-Granger –slash-Hogwarts-Student (from Harry Potter, duh.) for Halloween:

I dressed up for school on Friday and ran a few errands before work – Dunkin’ Donuts, a grocery store, and Starbucks. I got the range of reactions – from “Are you, like, a hair dresser?” to “Hermione!” to getting spit on to nothing. Which was probably worse than getting spit on, because, seriously – I am wearing a freakin’ gown, people.

The girls loved it, though, and were stopping by my office all day because they heard I looked “just like Hermione!” Halloween WIN.

Halloween itself was spent with my family – parents, brother, sister, Mike, Korean exchange student, and my brother’s friend watching a ridiculous scary movie from the 80s – The Fog. That is, ridiculous AND scary, not ridiculously scary. The kind of movie where you scream and hold your sister’s hand, and then laugh at how silly the movie is. Perfect for an overactive imagination like myself. Mass amounts of candy and pumpkin-flavored goods were also consumed – making it a Halloween DOUBLE WIN.

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Don't forget to enter my Starbucks giveaway! (It's a contest for me, too - so not only will you get FREE coffee, but you'll make me happy. Thanks!)

I'll Be the Bag Lady Sipping a Latte.

2009-11-04T13:22:00.006-05:00

This post is a part of 20SB’s Blog Carnival: Can’t Live Without, and Alice.com is awarding prizes to lucky bloggers and readers!

It’s no secret that we tend to be ~~cheap~~ frugal around here. I’m currently only buying second-hand clothing, I’ve bragged about a twelve dollar outfit, I rarely buy books, I don’t have a TV, we only have one car, and I make lots of gifts myself. I’m not a fancy-nice-expensive handbag girl, a fancy-nice-expensive shoe girl, or a fancy-nice-expensive car girl. I do my own nails, dye my own hair, and cut my own bangs. And I’ve never spent more than $50 for an article of clothing – shoes included.

I never feel deprived, though, or all, “Woe is me, a poor peasant who shall never own a Coach bag.” Because: I allow myself to splurge on things that really make me happy. (Honestly, I couldn’t care less about Coach, anyway.) When thinking about what I couldn’t live without, no matter how poor we get, I realized it all comes down to one thing: Good Food.

Whether it’s a morning mocha, grocery shopping at Trader Joes and Whole Foods, Friday night take-out Thai, or brunch with Mike – I spend money on food.

Maybe it’s silly to spend money on something that won’t last, that I won’t treasure for years or show proudly to my friends, but I love the social aspect of eating (and drinking coffee, of course). Grabbing a cup of coffee with a friend is glorious, as is leaving our house to go out to dinner or brunch with Mike. It's so much more interactive and social than spending time together just watching television.

Plus, supporting a local restaurant makes for a unique experience. And I look forward to grocery shopping at a place that supports my values with options like organic, local, fair-trade, and vegetarian goods– and by treating their workers well. Last time I was at Trader Joe’s, I had a 20-minute conversation with the cashier about how much she loved her job –having the freedom to show her tattoos, wear jeans, and enjoy work. She even thanked me for shopping there so she could have her fabulous job.

Give me good food and grocery shopping experiences over McDonald’s and Walmart any day!

And sometimes, a yummy latte is just the perfect treat. Sometimes, going to Chipotle with my husband makes a Tuesday night just a bit special. Sometimes, a difficult day is improved when I go out and pick up lunch for myself.

I guess it’s all about priorities, and I love good food. Food that brings people together, that is a treat, that is produced and sold sustainably, and that makes my day better.

I won't judge you for your Christian Louboutin addiction, and you won't judge me when I don't know how awesome your shoes are. Or how to pronounce the designer's name. (Or having to Google the designer to see what exactly she/he designs.)

I won't judge you for drinking crappy coffee and buying processed, white bread and you won't judge me for shopping in Whole Foods or buying a latte. Or planning my vacation around finding good restaurants and taking photos of it. Deal?

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PS: Have you entered my Starbucks giveaway??

Crying at Work is Always Fun.

2009-11-05T21:42:00.004-05:00

I got to work today, sat down for our department meeting, and burst into tears.

(It’s a good thing I work with all women.)

If only she hadn't asked, with the sympathetic head tilt, "Everything okay?" Which is, of course, The Worst Question Ever if you're on the verge of tears.

As I was driving to work, my car started making a ridiculously loud grinding and scraping noise a few miles from work. Without a phone, running late for a meeting, and a husband a few hours away, I decided to keep driving. Only slightly scared that the car would burst into flames, causing me to swerve into oncoming traffic and die a fiery death.*

Add to that a good dose of holy-crap-I’m-in-over-my-head-with-this-huge-work-project, a sprinkle of completely forgetting to go a meeting, and a dash of telling a 16-year-old that her adopted grandma died and you've got the makings for a day that would make anyone dissolve into tears.

(At least, that's what I tell myself - otherwise, I just get embarrassed about all the crying. Hate the crying.)

Today has basically left me a human marshmallow of emotions, so I'm just going to look at happy photos. . .

* No death, just a catalytic converter shield that rusted out. The friendly mechanic fixed it for free then told me I am dire need of new ball joints. I'm not sure what these are, but surely I can find them for cheaper than $480. Note to self: check Froogle. (Which, apparently isn't called "Froogle" anymore. And hasn't been since 2006. Oh.)

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PS: Blah blah blah blah Starbucks giveaway!!!

Just Like on Everybody Loves Raymond. Except NOT.

2009-11-07T18:56:00.005-05:00

After living far from my family for five years, we've been about an hour drive away for the past year or so. (And by far, I mean - a 40-hour plane ride for three of those years.) It was a choice we made to move closer to them (and to the fabulous city of Cleveland, of course.)

The Benefits of Living Near-ish to Family

DVR/satellite television access. (Uh, these are in no particular order...)

Suggesting we go out to dinner and always being treated.

Seeing my siblings get older. When I left for college and my little brother was a wee little 9-year-old, I bemoaned the fact that he'd grow up without getting to know me. He just gave me the rundown on his skincare regimen last weekend, so I think it's safe to say we're fine.

Being around when college or Colorado sister come home to visit.

Laughing with my mom as my 15-year-old brother suddenly cares about his hair. And his breath. And his skin. And wondering together HOLY CRAP, WHEN DID HE BECOME A TEENAGER!?

With a crazy amount of little cousins in the area, it's always someone's birthday. Birthday cake = score.

Playing dominoes with my grandparents on a Friday night.

Watching Mike teach my little brother how to play guitar. Precious.

Babysitting my cousins - getting to take care of them and play with them and be a part of their lives.

No long drives or expensive plane rides needed. A major WIN.

8 cousins, 3 aunts, 3 uncles, 2 parents, 2 siblings, and 2 grandparents live within a an hour of us. Support system much?

We can visit for the day and not stay for the whole weekend...although we usually end up staying the whole weekend, somehow.

Pilfered cereal and cans of soup taste better than ones you buy.

Being around for things like this and this.

I think I just love being a part of my family's life more often. We might not always be around, but for now, it's working wonderfully. (Minus this sort of thing. But, you know. No one's perfect.)

Do you live near your family? As 20-somethings, we're now more mobile and have a say in where we live. Did you jet away as soon as possible? Would you hate living close to them? Do you wish you'd be closer? Are your parents down the street?

She's Sort of Ridiculously Adorable, No?

2009-11-08T19:41:00.002-05:00

My new lens + adorable little sister visiting + a gorgeous day = photo shoot, of course!

I am loving this new lens - even though I'm still not spending as much time as I'd like on my photo skills, I adore pretending like I'm a real photographer...

Tomorrow I have the day off, so it will be spent with Emmie, at the eye doctor, and working on design jobs while at a coffee shop...pretending I'm freelancing for living.

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PS: My Starbucks Giveaway ends tomorrow at 9am EST, so be sure to enter if you haven't already! Coffee is good. Mmm. (Or will make a good gift if you're not a fan!)

You Can Thank Me Later | Pumpkin French Toast.

2009-11-09T21:37:00.003-05:00

Mike got me three cookbooks from my birthday from my favorite chef. A cupcake cookbook, a cookie cookbook, and brunch cookbook. I am in heaven. Seriously, she's amazing. Here's my latest favorite recipe:

[It's Vegan!] Pumpkin French Toast
1 cup pureed pumpkin (from a can is just fine)
1 1/2 cups almond milk (or your favorite non-dairy milk)
2 tablespoons cornstarch
2 teaspoons cinnamon
1 1/2 teaspoons ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 stale Baguette, sliced diagonally in 1 inch pieces, or 8 pieces thick sliced bread
Cooking oil for the pan

Mix together all ingredients (except for the bread, obviously). Spread out baguette slices on a rimmed baking pan in a single layer. Pour on pumpkin mixture and flip to coat. Let sit for 10 minutes, then flip over and soak for 10 minutes more. (Less time if using less hearty bread - otherwise it will break from sogginess!)

Preaheat a large non-stick skillet over medium heat. Spray with cooking oil, or drizzle a little into the pan, and cook about half of the soaked breads at a time for 5 to 7 minutes on one side and about 3 minutes on the other. They should be golden to medium brown and flecked with darker spots. Keep warm on a plate covered with tin foil while you cook the second batch.

Photo + Recipe Source.