31

Some of you may have noticed that I had a birthday yesterday. Last year, I turned 30. I dreaded it while I was 29. Then, when the actual day came, I realized I kind of liked 30. Granted, there was that ginormous surprise party thrown on my behalf. That helped. But I also realized, as the days and weeks passed, that I finally sort of felt like a grown up. And I liked that.

This year has been different. I am sick, for one thing. And we are moving, for another. This one kind of crept upon me from behind while I was packing boxes and blowing my nose, tapped me on the shoulder and in a slightly annoyed voice said, "Hey. You're 31 now."

It seems like once you finally feel grown up, you should get to stop having birthdays. But they just keep coming. One after the other. Every single year. It isn't as fun as it used to be.

One thing that did come from this birthday was a visit from The Nester. She has a name, which I won't reveal, of course. It's funny though...The Nester has kind of grown on me. I call her that a lot now when we're together, especially when we're talking house. And we talk house a lot. She helped me pick this out.
That one is in our dining room. She thanked me for letting her help me pick out light fixtures, stating it was the most fun she's had all week. Or was it all month? The walls are svelte sage, for those of you who may wonder. We have six nights left until we move to the new old house. I think I'm ready. I still haven't shown you the kitchen. I inherited some nice cabinets that I wouldn't have chosen if it had been up to me. But we couldn't replace them. So we've done some other things to make it ours. I look forward to posting about that.

But first I have to go pack up my current kitchen. And count the days 'til my next birthday. Or not.

my estrogen-filled weekend

I went on the women's retreat with my church this weekend. It was crazy bad timing...one kid had pink eye, the man was to leave town right when I got back, we are moving in a week. You know. Life is happening. If I hadn't already paid for it, I may not have gone.

Besides that, I was asked to officially be the unofficial photographer for the weekend. Which is kind of obscure and intimidating. I'm not so crazy about taking photos of people I don't know and it just wouldn't be cool to have 200 pictures of the women in my small group. Who, by the way, were awesome.
Here they are, posing for a group photo. Women get crazy when we are together for a whole weekend at the beach with no men or children. Or laundry. As you can see, it was easy to get some good shots of this group. My concern was getting enough shots of the women I don't know.

One opportunity came Saturday afternoon while hanging on the beach with a friend. I noticed some women from our group that I hadn't gotten photos of yet.
They were relaxing, talking, bathing in the sun near us. I hated to do the whole Hey y'all! I know you don't really know me that well, but don't you want to pose for my camera in your bathing suits? I thought the best I would get would be a couple of half-hearted smiles and a lot of groaning.

This is what I got instead.
I've never seen women jump up so fast. They were like middle schoolers.
They not only posed, they ran to the water to give me fun, action shots. It was awesome. Then, they did this.
I don't think some of them have done a cartwheel in years. There were a couple more frames in the middle, but they aren't the most family friendly shots if you know what I mean.

I had to share these, as it has had me laughing for a couple of days now. I just love how, when we are removed from the everyday, we give ourselves permission to be ridiculous and silly.

the writing on the wall

This painting is hanging in my current kitchen. I bought it from The Nester at a yard sale a few years ago. She sells great stuff at yard sales. And yes, she makes me pay. I make her pay, too. Well, sort of. It usually goes something like this:

Sister 1: "Ooo, you're sellin' that?"
Sister 2: "Yeah, you want it?"
Sister 1: "Maybe...How much?"
Sister 2: "Oh, you can just have it."

It goes both ways like that. And then one sister tries to convince the other to just take it but the other sister insists on paying. What generally ends up happening is we trade stuff and no money is exchanged. Usually mom is in the mix somewhere, too. She's the worst at buying all our stuff at our yard sales. She never ends up making anything when the 3 of us do one together because she spends all her earnings on our junk. Then she apologizes a year later when she re-sells them at another yard sale.

I think the frame of this one has been painted several times which makes sense because that's just what my sister does. As I said before, I have had it for several years. But just a few days ago, noticed something I had never seen.
Well, I thought to myself, I wonder what Psalm 40:5 says? Though I'm sure this signature wouldn't mean much on Antiques Roadshow, I felt certain it would mean something to me. So I looked it up. And it was a sweet reminder to me that the Lord thinks of me...too many thoughts to count. I am on His mind.

And just like that, I remember again how the Creator of the Universe likes to reveal Himself through unlikely people and unlikely things...even a yard sale painting hanging in my kitchen.

six more things

This entire blog is riddled with unimportant things about myself. I just wanted to get that out there. For some reason Heather from Mindless Junque, Tracey from Make Room For..., and Melissa from Higher Call have all decided they haven't heard enough unimportant things about me. So they have tagged me. And the fact that they all did so within the past 24 hours has caused me to believe I really need to do this.

I know I have been tagged before. I apologize if you have tagged me and I didn't play. It's just I felt as though I have revealed oh-so-many unimportant things already: my dis-like of spoons, my murderer escape plan, the naming of my house, the fact that I time myself in the grocery store, my strong aversion to many words that begin with the letter P...I'm a freak. It is a well-documented fact.

But there is more. So here I go.

1. My fingers are kind of double jointed. When I was younger and my friends were less polite and grown up, they would sometimes ask what was wrong with my thumb. And I have more than once been known to pretend my fingers were legs and my finger tips, feet. I can do a mean moon-walk. When I am bored, you know.2. I was a cheerleader in high school. I was the one they threw in the air to do basket tosses. I don't think they even call them that anymore. But it was so fun. And I always felt lucky that I got to be the one to fly.

3. I know The Wizard of Oz by heart. Partially because I have seen it so many times and partially because I have the script. In the form of a colorful, hardback book. That I found at a used bookstore. For $15. I know that might sound like a lot to you. But for me, it was a good day. A very good day.

4. I love maps. Sometimes I google map my house just to see where it is in relation to familiar places. It is important for me to have a sense of where I am, physically. I also love the weather channel for the same reason. While visiting NYC a few years ago, I sat on the bed in our hotel room and studied the map of Manhattan for...a while. And it was bliss.

5. I count on my fingers. In all situations. Every time.

6. I love minor league baseball games. When I was in middle school, we moved from our hometown in Indiana to the Quad Cities in Iowa. They had a minor league team at the time: the Quad City Angels. The field was beautiful, right on the Mississippi River. My dad and I would go and sit up high in the stands. Sometimes we'd get a program. Or popcorn. But mainly, we'd just sit. And listen to the baseball sounds. And I loved it.

So there you have it. Six more things. Tag, you're it.

Good Mom strikes again

Today Caillou's mommy was having a bad day. First, her car broke. Then, she lost her keys. There she is frowning. Which I guess for Caillou is pretty extreme if less than realistic. Where is the smoke coming from her ears? Where are the slanty eyebrows? Where is the clenched jaw, the one-word answers, the broken phone that she threw across the room because she just.couldn't.take.it?

Apparently even on a bad day, Caillou's mommy still talks in a sing-song voice and is really nice to her kids. Great, Good Mom even comes in animation. Oh to be a cartoon.

i have just...

The Office spoiler alert...read at your own risk.

• eaten my weight in rocky road ice cream and oreos.
• teared up when Kevin got The Office parking spaces back.
• second (and third, and fourth) guessed my tile choice for our bathroom.
• clapped and pointed at the tv screen when Jim pulled out a ring.
• wondered if we have food for the girls school lunch tomorrow.
• realized I still haven't had a shower today.
• packed my entire living room in my head.
• spoiled Debbie's enjoyment of her TiVoed Office by not having a spoiler alert earlier.
• called myself an idiot.
  

door failure. transplant needed.

Now that we have less than 3 weeks until we move, I revel in seeing any kind of progress over at our new house. I haven't popped in over there for the past few days to get some distance from the whole thing.

Turns out it's true what they say about absence and the heart growing fonder (as The Nester recently reminded me). I guess regular people would apply that to relationships. But it works in this case, too...as it has been encouraging and exciting to see the personality of our new/old house begin to take shape. This tulip only recently came out to greet us and I'm so glad she did. Isn't she lovely?

Another exciting development has been in the door department. The house was kind of in a door identity crisis when we bought it. Many of the doors were beautiful, like this one in the foyer next to the stairs.

And these, leading into the sunroom.

But all the other doors were just...doors. Flat, no panel, hollow doors. Nothing really wrong with that. Were they functional? Yes. Did they have personality? Not so much. They served their purpose faithfully for a very long time. But after hanging around for 45 years, they seemed a bit tired.So we gave them a face-lift. Actually, I guess it was more like a transplant.They weren't flown in on a chopper and delivered in a red cooler, but their arrival was exciting just the same.

There it is, in all it's new-door glory. The one on the right is still the old one so you can compare. I think they change the feel of the whole house. What a difference a door makes. Replacing them was such a treat. It wasn't a requirement that we do it. All things considered, we decided it was one of those things that would make a big difference that was worth it to us. And don't forget how tired those old doors were. Worn out, they were. It was the kind thing to do.

a good word from a new friend

It feels a bit risky sometimes to share things that are real and vulnerable in this place. But here is one of the reasons why I do it:

I keep thinking that in 16 years I'll be able to rest. I squeeze in what I can here and there, but I'm like you--I feel there are things God wants so badly to tell me, and I just busy up my life to the point that I can't hear Him sometimes. Not because I'm not doing the things I should, but because "busy-ness" in general sometimes distracts us. I know what it feels like to live in remodeling and moving chaos, and can only promise that rest comes in its own time and own way. Maybe not as much as we feel we need, but sufficient for the day. Sleep. Read. Smile. Take in the joy of little moments and you'll come through it ok!

What a great word from my bloggy friend, Jennifer P. in response to my last post. Thanks Jennifer and to all you other girls, too...for relating with me in this familiar place of need and longing.

This weekend I purposed to take notice of the moments I could steal during the day to listen to my Father's voice. I have to be more creative to find those moments and they look so different now than they used to. But they are there, and I have found joy in the discovery. I'm still not giving up on my quest to have a silent retreat with yours truly, but it has been a relief to find small spaces for my soul to breathe even in the midst of everyday life.

my efforts to stop the world

I'm standing in line at the grocery store. I'm looking at gum. Winterfresh or spearmint. Which? One? A worker cheerfully walks up to me, placing her hand on my cart.

"Ma'am, would you like to go to the self check-out? There's no wait."

I look at her. I say nothing. Then, the tears make their way to my eye corners. "No thanks," I hear myself say, "I've had enough change lately."

And that is when I realized that the running has finally caught up with me. I've been waiting for rest to descend upon me. And it isn't happening.

I became aware of my deep need to experience rest for my soul about a year after the twins were born. Overnight, it seemed, life became a cloudy mess and my efforts to defog it were both desperate and feeble. I began reading a book called Choosing Rest by Sally Breedlove. I've talked about that book here before. In it, she mentions that "in resting we pull away from doing although all is not done." How many times do I say to myself as soon as I finish ____, then I'll find rest?

I tend to view rest as a reward for finishing the work. Or worse, I accept a counterfeit version of rest described in her book: "When all our accomplishing crashes into the wall of utter fatigue, we finally take a break and call that rest."

And that is where I found myself today, in line at the grocery store. The concept of choosing rest even though the list remains unchecked and the clothes remain unfolded is a foreign one. Rest. Not a nap or a movie or dinner with friends, though I need those times, too. I'm talking about soul rest. Alone rest. Face time with the One who calls me to come...because His burden is light. And I'm not just talking about 30 minutes in the morning. I sense my soul longing for hours and hours...maybe even days ...of quiet. Time to think, to remember freedom, to hear the silence, to receive perspective. Is this the introvert in me coming out? Or is this just what we all are created to need?

And so I sit at an impasse in the dark too late at night, writing about rest but uncertain about experiencing it. I know it is possible. Even if the weekend of solitude isn't...I know it is possible to experience rest even in the midst of chaos. To "allow the present to be imperfect", another difficult quote for me to swallow. The trick for me is remembering that I have a choice. That rest will not show up as soon as I finish my list.

Maybe I should start putting rest on my list.

why monica needs forgiving

Last night while my fairy blogmother was bippidy blogidy boo-ing away on my blog design, I was busy watching Friends with one eye open. It was very late. But not so late that my house-loving, color-picking, half-asleep self could ignore Monica's bathroom during The One Where Chandler Takes a Bath.

Something about that bathroom looks awfully familiar, I thought to myself.
I guess I just accept things like this on TV. I mean, it's TV. It's Friends. It's Monica. I forgive her. But if I walk into a house that I'm thinking of buying and see purple trim...well, it's kind of different.
A big improvement, don't you think?

Too bad I don't have a fairy housemother to redo our house for us. She would never leave a mess like this.
Or this, in the kids bathroom.

She would also never, ever leave her water bottle on the toilet in the middle of my bedroom.
Instead, I've got these guys.
And this lovely trench in my backyard.
She would never leave that trench. Unless she doubled as a groundhog, but what kind of fairy housemother would do that? I'm getting just a teensy bit nervous, as the clock strikes mid-night on May 6. That is the day we will bid our farewells to sweet Sophie Marie and head on over to the new house for good. Here's to hoping that glass slipper fits.

my fairy blogmother

Y'all! I have a fairy blogmother! Granted, I must have taken a crazy pill this month. Because in the midst of buying a house, selling a house, semi-remodeling the former and grieving the latter, I thought it would be a great idea to have my blog re-designed.

Well bring on the crazy cuz right now, I just want to chat away with a hot cup of coffee and a big piece of chocolate cake. That is what this new design is doing to me. Making me happy! And fatter, apparently. But it is going to bring such loveliness to my day and to yours as well, I hope.

It all started a few months ago when my sister gave away a tassel during the great bloggy giveaway and the winner was Mommy from The Womble Times. I clicked on her blog and loved her design and then I realized that she, herself was the designer!
She has her own company called Peek-a-boo Greetings and she is doing all this work to raise money for the travel expenses involved in the adoption of her daughter.

I wish I knew more about that...unfortunately so far, most of what I know about her has nothing to do with her and everything to do with me: she is really patient (with me), she likes to use numbers to keep things organized (when she sends me e-mails), and she stays up really late (to work on my blog design). She is funny and creative and...and...Oh I'm just bursting! We were working into the wee hours of the morning (and by "we" I mean she was working and I was watching Friends and hitting refresh on my email inbox to see what she had to tell me next). And then she said I could go to bed and wake up to a new blog design which is exactly what I did and now...I have a fairy blogmother! How cute is she? I feel 4. And I love it!

I am so thankful for her talent and hard work. I hope you enjoy the fruits of her labor. I know I will.

Peek-a-Boo...

Good Morning Mrs. Emily. What a surprise you are waking up to this morning! I hope you love your new blog design. I think it is beautiful (if I do say so myself)! Let me know if there are any changes you would like to make. Otherwise, your blog-over is complete and you are ready to chat your sweet little heart out. I can't wait to hear from you.

Hugs,
your fairy blogmother

have I failed to mention...?

Cute house, huh? I like the brick, the well manicured yard, the homey-ness of this house. It actually belongs to the man's brother and his wife from Spain (the man being my husband). Remember them?

They're so cute, just like their house. Wait, what's this...?

That's their house, through that window there. What window is that, you ask?

I'd know that ugly purple trim anywhere. Why, it's our new half-way painted master bedroom window. That's right, people. Of the many reasons why we bought this house, I have yet to mention one that is pretty major. It sits a mere house away from my brother and sister-in-law and their little girl. The twins can look out their bedroom window and see their cousins' bedroom window.

What memories they will make on our little cul-de-sac. We can't wait to get there.

And I promise, one day very soon I will stop talking about houses. Really, I will. In fact, my little corner of cyberspace will be changing things up in just a few days. I figured so many things are changing these days, why not shake it up here a bit as well? So stay tuned.

a house by any other name...

Dear Sophie Marie,

I know that people may think I'm crazy for giving you a name, but I don't care. You deserve one. Especially after this past week. You have shined. You have smiled. You have welcomed strangers warmly and whispered sweet nothings to them as they walked your halls. As potential buyers imagined you as their own, you held your head high and promised them home.

And it has been worth it, for in a mere 6 days you have managed to do what other houses have only dreamed of: you convinced someone else to fall in love with you and to sign a contract stating their intentions with you.

I know today is a tough day, as you are being picked, prodded, analyzed and pushed to your limits by that house inspector. He wants to see what you've got, girl. Show him! You can do it, I know you can.

Thank you for all your hard work. Thank you for the home you have so graciously been for our family. I hope you can forgive us for leaving you, but our relationship seems to have run its course.

You've done good, girl. You've done real good.

Your loving owner,
Emily

tinted walls, tinted faces

I am loving all the help I'm getting on the paint for the new fireplace mantle wall. Keep those ideas coming. I will definitely post a photo when I decide what I'm gonna do with it. In the meantime, check this out. Warning: my sister + me = 2 idiots with nicely tanned faces.

help wanted

You're going to regret you ever asked me to write about my new house. I've been making decisions left and right. It's enough to make a girl a bit dizzy. Thankful for sure...for the opportunity to pick stuff out that I like. But being so close to it all, it's becoming harder for me to see the forest for the trees (or the paint for the wall, I should say).

Here's where I need your help. As you know, this is where we started in this paneled room.
Then, we painted the paneling Tobacco Road on 3 walls...but on the fireplace wall, we painted the whole thing a few shades lighter, Believable Buff. It seemed like it would help it to look like a wall of fireplace, instead of cutting it in 1/2 with Tobacco Road on top.

Turns out that Buff wasn't so Believable after all. I thought it looked like those shelves needed their teeth brushed. The Nester said it looked like a powdered face with no lipstick on. We had to do something.
So we painted just the mantle and the wooden bookshelves white, same as the trim. It still ain't right people. Or is it? It isn't...right? I just can't tell anymore. This photo was taken without a flash so it's kind of hard to see the true color. The two walls on the sides are still Tobacco Road and the wall above the FP as well as the brick is still (un)Believable Buff. But I just don't know.

Should the brick be white, too? Should the shelves and mantle be Buff and the brick be white only? Should we paint the wall above the mantle Tobacco like the rest of the room? Should I light a match and burn the whole thing down?

I know in light of starving kids in Africa and Hurricane Katrina victims and that homeless man on the corner that always looks me in the eye when I pull up at the stop light, this stuff is so trivial. I know that. Still...I have to decide on something and quick. I may not take any of your suggestions (well, except you Nester. You're opinion is always gonna be a bit weighted), but I still want them. So....what do you think?

a happy house

So I'm doing it. I'm writing about my new house. It is so on the brain that it's hard to think about other, more meaningful things anyway. I guess for an audience that enjoys looking for a paci in a pile of junk, seeing photos of my new house will be a change that is welcome.

It has been easier to write about my current house because I love it and it is home. I love this house too...but not yet like I WILL love it. So here it is in all its over-grown glory.
It was built in 1963, the year JFK was assassinated. I've always loved reading about American history in the 60's so there's that. Our plan is to tear out a lot of the plants...not all of them, as there are hydrangeas and delightful looking bushes with little white bell-shaped buds. We are also going to paint the brick to match the siding. Can't wait to do that.

Some of my favorite things about this house?
This white picket fence. It is homey. And that building there? It's the room off the garage, better known to us as the man room. We've never had a man room. Or a garage, for that matter.
This is the breakfast area in the kitchen. Love those floors and the room gets great light, too.

When I looked through the front window of this house (that was empty but not for sale, by the way), this is the first thing I saw. My heartbeat sped up and I realized maybe there was more to this house than meets the eye. We had our eye on it for months before we went inside. The owner had moved out but had not put it on the market yet. So we tracked her down and begged her to let us walk through in a very we-want-to-see-your-house-REAL-BAD-but-we're -not-really-interested kind of way. We had to play it cool. I don't think she fell for it.

So she met us there. And we looked. And we liked. And we prayed. And she liked us. She set a price. Then we set a price. Then she accepted, not because she liked the price but because she liked us and wanted a family to live there and be happy. Because she was the 2nd owner of this house. She said it had been a happy house for her and her husband (who has died) and her children (who are grown). And it will be a happy house for us.

Some things that aren't so happy? Well, this room, for one. And the crematorium they like to call the fireplace. And check out the light tube in the ceiling...when you stand under it and look up, it's kind of Jetson-y.
Not a problem, though. Already in the process of being taken care of.
That's Ray. He smells like smoke and coffee from Biscuitville. He works fast and has been very patient with Indecisive Girl from Planet the-paint-colors-I-choose-determine-my-happiness. I went with Tobacco Road in this room. Was there any other choice? We also smoothed out the popcorn ceilings in here. Very soothing. And smooth.

And then there was this.Every window in the house had these wooden cornice boards built just for them. Whenever I hear "custom built" it always gives me pause, just like the Reindeer up on the housetop (go on, sing it in your head...you'll see. I know you think its "paws" but it's not. Really).

So we got rid of those, too.

This was the sunroom before we closed on the house. Not too sunny what with all those blinds covering up those beautiful windows.

Looks sunnier here, even though it was raining. And yes, that is a hot tub out those back windows. No, it doesn't have water in it. Yes, it does work. How do I feel about it? I'm still not sure.

Now so far I've showed you some photos of either things I love or things I don't love but are in progress. Ready for something I hate that hasn't been touched yet? Wait for it...
Yes, my sweet friends. That is our master bedroom. Pink walls. Plum trim. Custom-built cornice thing on the window. A wall-papered cornince thing. Nice. But those floors scream potential.

So there you have it. This flower was blooming in the backyard, by the way. She likes to pose with flowers. I'm sure I'll be posting more before, in-progress and after photos as time goes on. This post was kind of a big step for me, as I feel like I'm cheating on my current house by writing about another one. So many issues.