my crazy, mixed up (Hilton) head

We made it home from Hilton Head...my mother-in-law, sister-in-law and my kids. It was girls only this week. Well, except for the baby, but he doesn't really count as a guy yet. Besides, he still has that pink paci and he spent more than a few hours in a princess pull up. To sum up the week, we pretty much ate too much chocolate, watched lots of chick flicks and bought way too many shoes. It was perfect.

Here is one last thought I wanted to share with you from the island.
Attention men and women of the world with hairstyles...come here and they will give you Harbour Town. For your hairstyle. Ain't that nice of them? I think it ought to be Hairstyles for Your Hilton Head.

Anyway, so we're home. Except it feels a bit less like home than it did when we left because there is a For Sale sign in the yard now. I felt kind of guilty when I saw it. I know. I'm a freak. It's just that I love this house. And she's kind of become like, the 6th member of our family. And we have fancied, polished and dressed her all up just to show her off and sell her to the highest bidder. And soon, we're going to leave her and I don't know if the next people will love her as much as we have. And that makes me sad. And now you see how deep my issues really go.

We had lots of showings while we were out of town. And I can tell people have touched my stuff. And it smells different. But it's still clean, which is a perk. We are getting more excited about our new house...our 45 year old new house.

I think I'm ready to talk about it. Stay tuned.

thankful for my Assets

So The Sisters have another post up over at Chic-Critique. And by The Sisters I mean my sister. She did it up right this week, critiquing some items that every girl needs in her bag of tricks. All I did this week was to assure her that yes, it is Spanx, not Spanks. But panty? Not sure. I always thought it was panty...but maybe it's pantie?

Either way, hate that word. But love the Spanx.

me and my nosey self

I have this thing where when I go see a movie in the theater, I don't like to talk about it right away. And if I go with people who, right when the credits begin to roll, turn to me in the dark and say "So, whaddya think?" I will say nothing and just look at them. I don't know why that is. I think it has something to do with the fact that I don't want the strangers who sit behind us to hear my opinions. Because everyone just saw the same movie. To ask me what I thought is such an obvious question. Wow. That really made sense in my head.

But I had that same feeling walking in Harbour Town today. If you didn't know about the couple who disappeared from here three weeks ago, you really wouldn't notice anything different. Except everyone around here does know. And also because their boat is still in the harbor. I didn't want to just walk confidently up to it and start snapping photos although maybe that would have been better than to pretend like that wasn't why I was there.

So I lingered. And I took photos of the lighthouse and flowers and chains (yes, chains); some of my favorite things to photograph in the harbor. And then I sat down and shuffled some rocks. And then I took yet another picture of the lighthouse. And then I looked over my shoulder (yes, I really did) and snuck a few of the Yellow Jacket.

I've seen it here before...over the years of visiting the island. The yacht is small, especially compared to the Pa-Li-Ne that sits right next to it. Standing there looking at it, you would think her owners were simply down below or spending some time at the Quarterdeck for lunch. As I lingered, I heard passersby speculate about what may have happened to them, how they could have disappeared on purpose just to get away. At least 6 people took photos before I did. With their phones or their point and shoots. I could have gotten a better shot, but I would have had to get closer and it would have blown my cover. I don't like to be obvious, you know.

I imagine to the locals it might be annoying. I might be annoying. Disrespectful, maybe? But there is something about a tragedy that has gained nationwide attention that causes people to want to gawk in spite of themselves, especially a story that is shrouded in so much mystery.

I stood there for a bit, imagining what may have happened to this couple, hoping they are still alive and will walk along the manicured lawns of the harbor and take up residence on their boat again. I kind of hate myself for taking a photo of their empty boat, evidence that something just isn't right. It is sad and strange and it is none of my business, really. But being here, I can't help but think of them. And to pray that maybe they are coming back.

opposite day

The azaleas are blooming in Hilton Head. I don't usually like azaleas. They are scrawny, burnt looking bushes most of the year. Until they bloom. And for those few weeks, they can certainly be beautiful. I am surprised that beauty can come from such an ugly bush.

I always forget how much I love the Low Country of South Carolina; how beautiful the water, the allure of the tree lined path of Plantation Drive. The Spanish moss hangs lazy and low from those branches. Every year I take some home with me. And every year I am disappointed that my baggie full of moss just isn't the same away from the island.

Somehow the beauty of this place almost makes it lonely. Maybe it's just because I know there is change waiting for us when we get back home. It is more likely because The Man isn't with us. I think there is something about a beautiful place that demands intimate company or it almost seems as though it doesn't count. I imagine Adam felt that way in the Garden before Eve was made but he didn't know why.

It is sweet to be in such a beautiful place on a day that celebrates new life and freedom. It is hard to believe that beauty can come from suffering and death. I think of Isaiah 53:11: "After the suffering of his soul, he will see the light of life and be satisfied." What a prediction. What a promise. I often forget how opposite the Lord thinks from the way I think: how the last will be first, how beauty comes from ashes, how life comes from death. It doesn't makes sense, really. But I am certainly thankful it is true.

chic critique

In the midst of organizing, sorting, packing and yes, even real grown-up cleaning, I have found lots of fun things I forgot I had. Namely, lots and lots of new beauty products just waiting to be opened and used. A few of them have expired. And a few of them are duplicates of the same thing...as I have a hard time throwing out perfectly good, full bottles of pretty liquids even though they may be products I never use (ie: samples of foundation, eye make-up remover, dental floss). Kidding. Floss is not a liquid. And I do floss. Not gonna say how often, but I do.

I even got lucky in the self-grooming department recently as my mom's very cute habit of leaving things behind when she visits paid off for me. If you want to hear more about that, check out the story over at chic critique. This when-exactly-did-I-last-take-a-shower girl has somehow found herself as one of the new contributers on a beauty product review site. It's kind of fun, as The Nester and I are doing it together. What are we calling ourselves, you ask? Why, The Sisters...what else?

i got house on the brain

I've been lacking in the self-reflection department lately. And the friend department, mom department, bathing department and just about any other department that doesn't have to do with selling our house. It is shaping up nicely. A good thing, I know. But sort of bad, too...as seeing it so cute makes me know how much I'm going to miss it. It is hard for me to let go of things, even when I know what I have to look forward to is right and logical and even fun.

They're coming tomorrow to take photos and video so we can list it. So we've been working crazy-like to get ready. I am at the point now where I'm throwing away unused bags of popcorn and perfectly good crayons because I just don't want to organize one more thing. I know. Shocking.

I'm lucky though, because my mom came up to help. Too bad she's a slacker.

All she did was empty my entire fridge, clean it, throw out expired food, organize my pantry, shine my stove and microwave, wash dishes, polish the counter top, mop the floors and clean a few bathrooms. Oh, and she watched the kids for a while. And scrubbed my outdoor furniture. And did all my laundry.

But that was nothing. Because I put a lot of elbow grease into this.

Look how clean that kitchen is. And organized. What an important thing I did. Because I know those picture men are really gonna hone in on the pink kitchen in my girls room because that's what a buyer wants to see.

Seriously, we have all been working like dogs. Dogs, I tell you. Of course, if you worked dogs this hard, you would probably go to jail. But it's gonna be worth it...I hope.

I will be posting photos of our new house as some of you have requested. It's hard to post before photos before I have after photos. But I will. Until then, I'll leave you with a cozy look at our porch. Don't you wanna sit there and drink your coffee and watch the clouds go by?

i spy with my little eye

...something that is pink. Yes, I said pink. He is not partial to paci colors. He is also not opposed to tutus, cheerleading skirts or pink high heels. Now go! Find that pink paci...

more quirks as promised

In the spirit of focusing on things that are meaningless but still important, here are some more questions that I've just been dying to ask.

1. Do you have certain words that you just can't use?
Most of the words on my hate list happen to begin with the letter "p": particle, puss, pimple, putrid, pasty. I can't believe I just wrote those words in my personal space. Maybe it isn't normal to have a list...?

2. Do you easily buy and replace things for just you?
Like makeup, sunglasses, new underwear? I've had a Wal-Mart pair of sunglasses for over 2 years now. They are falling apart. But until I lose them, I just. can't. get new ones. And my blush is a pink, powdery mess in it's compact. But it still works, right? And the underwear....well, you know. Don't you? Do you know? Or am I crazy?

3. Are you ok using a spoon at birthday parties?
When there is ice cream and cake involved, everyone seems to think it is SO necessary to eat it with a spoon. I hate using spoons. Unless it is for cereal or soup. I will use a spoon for ice cream alone...but when there is cake involved, I just can't take it.

Don't you love the way I disguise my freaky quirks as questions?

a note from our old house

Don't I look cozy and inviting in the winter time with my pretty wood door and my cute dormer windows?
And check me out in the summer...with my crepe myrtle and my sassy rocking chair front porch.
And that tree in the front yard...she's such a show off. But don't you want to live here? I'm a great house. And the tree isn't so snobby once you get to know her.

So...buy me. I'm totally for sale.

the real story

You know how sometimes you laugh so much you cry or you cry so much you laugh? And how sometimes when you're really nervous or happy or worried, all those emotions come at once and it's hard to separate them?

I know I've been talking about Sting and freaky quirks and 1993. That is classic me: pouring a lot of energy into stupid and meaningless things while big things are happening around me. Like, for example, we bought a house. Two days ago. It's a nice house. A home of a house. It needs some work, which is why we still live in our house. That we love. But are growing out of.

So we bought a house. There is a story that goes with the buying of this house. It is a great story. Maybe I'll tell it sometime.

Now we have two houses. We are homes owners.

And it is stressful. Exciting, too.

So that's what I've been doing.

Photos to come.

1993 unplugged

I'm going to risk blast-from-the-past overkill and publish this post. That's me at cheerleading camp the summer of 1992...just to help paint the whole picture, you know. Check out how high we wore our socks.

Thanks to those of you who suggested I post a list of the songs on one of the tapes I found. I have actually listened to a lot of them and have been rockin' out to Violent Femmes and the Gin Blossoms all day as a result. So here it is: the following is a list of the songs on my 1993 tape in its entirety. Nothing has been added or deleted from this list. Key words: recorded from the radio.

Side A
1. Sting Fields of Gold - 2nd verse only
2. Spin Doctors Two Princes
3. Phil Collins Billy Don't You Lose My Number - Dance Remix version. Yes. I know.
4. Phil Collins One More Night
5. Peter Gabriel In Your Eyes
6. Whitney Houston I'm Every Woman - 30 seconds only
7. Spin Doctors Two Princes - for the 2nd time. I really liked this one.
8. Crowded House Don't Dream it's Over - 2nd half only
9. Kenny G - I have no idea what or why.
10. The Ronettes Be My Baby - I went through an Oldies phase.
11. Gloria Estefan I See Your Smile
12. YWCA personal fitness commercial

Side B
1. Whitney Houston Where do Broken Hearts Go
2. Simply Red If You Don't Know Me by Now - because it always reminded me of Alex P. Keaton and his girlfriend on Family Ties who ended up being his wife in real life.
3. Extreme More Than Words
4. 4 Non Blondes What's Up? - the song where they don't ever actually say "What's Up?" It's more like "Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey. Hey, hey, hey. I said Hey. What's goin' on?"
5. Sting Fields of Gold - Again, 2nd verse only.
6. Boys II Men In the Still of the Night
7. Whoomp! There it is - Does it really matter who "sings" this one? Couldn't get all of Fields of Gold despite my two tries, but this one I have. In its entirety.
8. Lots and lots of blank space.

Somehow this tape missed my UB40 Can't Help Falling in Love obsession. Not sure how that happened.

And here I am with the Nester in 1993. I'm the one on the left with the teeth. She's got teeth, too. But mine were more important cuz I had just gotten the braces off. And it was prom night. Good times. Except for the fact that my dress was long sleeves. Covered in sequence. And it may or may not have had shoulder pads.

Ok. That is all. Overkill complete.

those were the days

Remember when you actually had to listen to the radio to hear your favorite song? And remember when you would stub your toe tripping over your Jansport so you could record the song onto the blank tape you had waiting for such a time as this? And remember how you really hoped the deejay guy wouldn't talk over the first part of the song so you could get a genuine, mix tape worthy recording?

And remember when you and your best friend would sit on her bed for hours, mentally grouping every 3 songs that came on together to play "past, present, future"? Remember how you always hoped that your future song would be Save the Best For Last by Vanessa Williams because that meant the best was yet to come? Remember that?

I found these in my attic today.

One is simply labeled 1993.

All I can say is, thank God for iTunes.

carolina

I've lived in North and South Carolina. I love them both.

In one direction, there are these. We call them mountains. I know you Colorado people may refer to these as rolling hills. But aren't they calming and beautiful and sweet?

We also have an entire coastline of this. I didn't see the ocean until I was 12. It was breathtaking. I'm so glad my kids will never remember a time when they didn't know the blue on blue horizon of those vast waters.

I especially like North Carolina because we have more pronounced seasons. Fall begins in October and there are plenty of these.

Then winter comes right around Christmas, and at least a few times a year, we get this...and a deep blue Carolina sky to go with it.

And just when all begins to seem only cold and gray, these sweet ladies bloom in late January, spinning their lovely red skirts as a gracious reminder that new life is waiting to burst forth in spring.

By the time April arrives, the sun has once again turned all things warm. I love the palmetto trees found mostly in South Carolina. When we first moved there, I was in the 6th grade and I remember thinking it was so exotic to have trees like this lining streets and in landscaped grocery store parking lots.

I don't have photos of all the other things I love about the Carolinas: the Spanish moss on Hilton Head Island, the skyline of Charlotte, the colorful row houses in Charleston, the baseball park here in my own hometown. I love that we say y'all and that we have great college basketball teams and that barbecue is a noun and not a verb.

I know I kind of cheated by lumping these 2 states together...but I'd love to hear what you love about where you live. Especially because this girl has never traveled farther west than Austin, Texas so I simply have no idea.

that was so awesome

If you haven't had a chance to read the comments from the last post, you are missing out. I have loved it...and man, does this freak feel normal! Here are a few highlights:

Most of you have a killer plan. Tonja even puts something in front of the door! And I hadn't even thought of military wives. Laura and Mary are alone at night all the time. You are very brave women (for many more reasons than this, actually). Then there is Cath. Her husband is the firefighter chief so her plan (along with various booby traps around the house) is to call 911 and say she smells smoke so her firefighter fellas will come a runnin'...Brilliant!

It's an interesting discovery to me that so many women have a plan because we will most likely never have to use it. In fact, we probably deep down don't even seriously believe we will need to use it...if we did, would we really stay alone in the first place? I guess it comes back to what Tracey said: "If Jesus wants to take me via a murderer in our house, I'd rather be with Him anyway, and hopefully he will take my whole family at once." Amen, girl...uhhh, I think.

Then there's the feet. Angie's baby girl is 45 pounds. She wears a 10.5 shoe and is only 2 years old. That is so awesome. Just goes to show the wide range of normal. Enough said.

Most surprising discovery: so many other people time themselves in the grocery store. I really thought that was just me. Nan even rewards herself with a donut if she makes her time. My kind of girl. Rosie times herself doing everything...this is hilarious to me, mainly because she thinks that is normal! What a freak! At least she doesn't pee in the pool. Speaking of...

There sure are a bunch of pool pee-ers who read this blog.

I can't tell you how fun this is for me. Your honesty is touching, really. So stay tuned...I have lots more freaky quirks to ask you about. I am determined to find one in common with Chickadee, who so far is way too normal. It is her birth-week, however and she wants to give you gifts so head on over there!

way to make a freak feel normal

Today I'm going to take advantage of you. Because you are reading and available and oh-so-willing.

I recently posted about going to my sister's house when the man was out of town. I also mentioned the fact that I'm more than a little nervous when I have to stay by myself. Sometimes I feel so childish for always begging my mom to drive 2 hours to come stay with me and keep me safe (all 5 foot 2 inches of her). Reading some of your comments from that post, I was so glad to discover that you are scaredy cats too (some of you with good reason...yikes, Jennifer P)! So what I want to know is, do you have a plan?

I have a plan that always involves the house phone on the table next to my bed and my cell phone on the pillow next to me (in case the killer cuts the house phone wire). Before kids, my plan was to sleep with my bedroom door locked and, if I heard a killer, to grab a phone, run to the closet, climb in the attic and call the police. But we've moved so our attic entrance is no longer in the closet. And now I have all these kids so climbing in the attic alone would just be wrong.

So I have a new the-killer's-in-the-house plan. I can't tell you the details though because, well...you know. You might be a killer.

And while I'm at it, maybe you could help me out in some other potentially it's-normal-to-me-but-I-might-be-a-freak situations:

1. When you were a kid, did you think it was ok to pee in the pool?
Ok, so IT'S NOT, right? Because I never did, but a few summers ago, I realized many of my dear, normal and respectable friends would go in the corner and...pee. And they thought it was totally ok. Shocking.

2. Do you time yourself when you go to the grocery store?
When I go into the grocery store, I look at the clock and predict what time I will be leaving. If I'm right, I win!

3. And it's not about me, but I've really been wondering: Does my son have unusually large feet, or does it just seem that way to me? He is 21 months old and he wears a size 8...comfortably. As in, he'll probably be in a 9 this summer. Is that normal?

I'd love to hear your thoughts on these. I have tons more, but I thought I would start small...work my way up to the "words I hate" list and the underwear issues.

i spy with my little eye

...something that is blue. Go ahead. Find the blue pacifier. I dare you.

my day in numbers

2 - Christmas gifts I needed to return

2 - months it's taken me to get gifts from my closet to my car

3 - stores I had to go to in order to return said gifts

63 - dollars put on store credit for ugly (though thoughtful and heartfelt) Christmas gift

5 - dollars gift is actually worth today (gotta love the gift receipt)

2 - number of times I said "score!" after receiving loaded gift card

45 - minutes it took from start to finish

0 - number of children I had with me

1,547 - coupons I still have to cut to be ready for the Grocery Game tomorrow

100 - posts I have made on this blog

fire, toile and a potted plant

So let's say your house is on fire. You have only seconds to grab what you can and run out the door. What do you grab? The photo album? The row of journals on your bookshelf documenting the early days of dating your husband? Your heirloom wedding gown? Or, in a desperate attempt to grab what is most valuable does all rational thought fly out the window and it suddenly become essential that you grab your L.L. Bean pea coat and that potted plant by the door?

Evidently, I would grab the plant. No, my house has never been on fire. But almost as bad, I did one day get a call from my sister stating that she and a friend were on their way over to "see how cute the twins room is!" It was like someone yelled "Fire!" in a crowded building because, let me assure you, their room was in no condition for an open house. It was a wreck. So what did I do? Make the beds? Pick up toys? Vacuum? Of course not. True to my inability to properly prioritize, I quickly decided the single most important thing to do between the phone call and the doorbell was to line the inside of their drawers with scrapbook paper.The girls have this used-to-be-changing-table-now-a-dresser dresser in their room. When they were babies, these drawers were so cute with the see through window in them. I would fold fuzzy burp cloths and proudly display them in neat rows of yellows and pinks. And then they turned 3 and the dresser became the toy chest and all of a sudden, it wasn't so cute anymore.

So I cut paper. And scotch taped it to the inside of the drawers. The girls were fighting in the background and I stuffed toys under the bed with my feet. But that dresser, it looked so cute when I was done. I finished with time to spare. Boy, do I know how to prioritize.
It definitely wasn't perfect. I had actually planned to get some fabric for this project. But seeing as how I kind of hyperventilate when I go into a fabric store (unless The Nester is there to talk me through it), that was not to be. The paper was only 12x12 but my drawers are wider than that. I had to piece them together. Lucky for me, toile just looks all toiley from far away, so it's hard to see where one paper stops and the other begins.Can you tell? Bet you can't. It's been over a year since I did this little project and now the tape is beginning to fail, as you can see from this inside shot.
My sister recently posted about lining the back of her dish hutch (what do you call that thing, anyway?) which kind of reminded me of this little project. She also used scrapbook paper, but she used a glue gun. Evidently tape is for amateurs. Seeing as how mine is falling apart, I guess I agree with that.

So now, instead of seeing this...I get to see this...
It fits in nicely with my cleaning habits.

my weekend with the Nester

We are so different, she and I. But not so much that we don't thoroughly enjoy each others company and perspective. I make her laugh. She makes things funny. I go to bed late. She turns in early. I like my coffee hot. She'd rather have it over ice. We both love chocolate cake and Pushing Daisies and laughing. Hard. At nearly everything. She helps me not take myself too seriously. I think I do the same for her.

I spent this weekend with her. The men were out of town, so we decided to join forces. Otherwise, we would be in our prospective houses not sleeping, listening for all the killers who were targeting our man-less households. But with all of us together under one roof, we were so much safer. We had each other and all of our six kids ages 10 and under to protect us, after all.

She spent a lot of time this weekend doing what she does...namely, nesting.
She pulled ribbons from cabinets like this to wrap gifts. There are several of them.

She wrapped up some tassels she made and is selling. But first she took photos of them. Then she said goodbye. Then she cried a little. She gets very attached.

She also spent time putting together this centerpiece for a shower. Why all this nesting? No, she's not pregnant. She's the Nester (or haven't you heard?) I kept busy helping her. I worked real hard on this.
There's something so special about having another person in the world who has the same parents as you. We stayed up talking late one night about growing up memories. It always surprises me that I am surprised when we talk about those days. Because even though we lived in the same house with the same parents and ate the same food, we turned out so different from one another. And we remember it all differently as well.

Family history is becoming increasingly important to me. We don't have any surviving grandparents so any stories that exist remain with our parents, aunts and uncles. I want to remember to ask them to remember. Because I don't know what I don't know so I don't know what to ask. In other words, it was good to hang with my big sister. Because she has stories, too. Different from mine...they overlap, certainly. But they are different. Just like us.

And I'm happy to report, no killers. The whole weekend.

And completely irrelevant to anything in this post (or in my life, for that matter), Ryan Seacrest just asked Jessica Alba if she'll be breastfeeding her baby. Live. On the red carpet. At the Oscars. I just don't think I can handle hearing Ryan Seacrest say "breastfeeding". From the looks of it, neither could Jessica Alba.

keep the change

The split-level house smelled of cigarette smoke, Chanel No. 5 and burnt cinnamon rolls. It was the home where my grandparents lived. Familiar. Comfortable. It was the house where I had celebrated every Christmas, birthday and fourth of July since I could remember. Predictable. Safe. I was in the bathroom and I didn't want to come out. It was the summer of 1987.

Standing there that morning, I remember wishing I could crawl under the sink and not come out. Maybe they'll just leave without me. I can stay here. Under the sink. With Grandma. But I knew that couldn't happen. Because we were moving...from our small, Indiana town, where I had lived all my life, where my parents had met and gone to high school, where our cousins and aunts and grandparents lived...we were leaving all things right and familiar and heading to Iowa, the land of all things different. One last trip to the bathroom, and it was time to make the 6 hour drive to what would be our new home. I was 11. And I didn't want to go.

And so began my personal life-long journey of learning to accept change. I've been thinking a lot about change lately. Not even the worst kind of change, like from divorce or sickness or death. Just regular, life-stage change. It isn't as scary as it was that day in my grandmother's bathroom. But it is still definitely not my favorite. I find myself looking at women who are pregnant for the first time or high school seniors or friends who are preparing to move far away and I think about all that is ahead for them...exciting days for sure. But also unknown, unpredictable days. Long days. Lonely days.

I tend to want to avoid the long and lonely, the unknown and unpredictable. I find unhealthy comfort in believing in the illusion that I have control over my future. But the more I live, the more I see that not only do I not have control, but I don't think I want to. Not really. It's too much pressure. Because though the days can be lonely and crazy-scary to anticipate, they are also dependent days...days of knowing that I can't so He must. Days of resting in His provision because that's all I really can do anyway. And many times, days of waiting for all of those words that I know are true to become true in my experience.

Sometimes I wish character and patience and growth could happen without all the change. So far I haven't found a successful way to avoid it. But I'll keep you posted.