I don’t have the arm nor core strength I should by now from the frequency of workouts I do. I often resist upping the ante. I will start to lift more weight, push aside fear, and do more cardio. It’s impressive what plans come to mind when leaning against an air mattress while eating jalapeño kettle chips midday. Good plan.
My hair is cut into a bob. Though this can youthen ones appearance when styled just so, it doesn’t do anything for somebody who cannot pull the ends into a low pony tail, nor smoothly side sweep the top under a single, sleek barrette when she needs to. In my experience, when not blown out or when you forget your favorite hair serum at home, a gal with a bob has two choices on vacation when the temperatures are cold and the wind is unkind: bed head or hat head. Some days I prefer Option A, Bed Head: my lopsided head of hair pieced in short’ish cowlicks thanks to falling asleep with damp hair. On other days I like Option B, Hat Head: the straggly static-electricity appeal generated from my beanie & faux fur hood. The choices are not great, but at least they are limited.
Sometimes the devil comes in obvious forms. He’s not sly about his intentions. He wants to lower you in. He wants to bring you to the dark side. He wants to fuck. you. up. Served strategically on the side of my soup in all of his pillowy comfort and savory fragrance, this basil, pepper, & feta beauty hanging out as a sidekick to my bowl of soup taunted me. I normally forgo standard baked goods, but this devil had every intention of being torn apart. He was not going to be ignored. What can I say? He asked for it. It was obvious.
This morning I need downtime. A day in would be great, especially when on vacation. If I were back home, this is one of those days that I would stay inside cooking, doing laundry, and likely listening to podcasts in the background. I was hoping to spend my early afternoon the same way out here in the apartment. There was a slight hitch though. The binder instructions for using the washing machine are in English, but the machine itself is not. After a slight struggle figuring it out using an inventive google app that scans foreign text on a smart phone and translates it for you, it was easier to approach the housekeeper to help out, but even with her “magic touch,” the machine got stuck after she left. About an hour later she was back with her partner armed with buckets of water ready for the morning cleanup and was surprised to see me still in the room with the machine blinking an indecipherable warning code. I felt it best to leave them to …
Welcome to my 555 series! Please read the introduction to this project {here}. Week 5 Post 5 I think we all get so used to letting go of dreams that don’t work out, that we are at a loss for handling ourselves years later when we start dreaming about them again. We doubt if it is ever going to materialize, and we doubt whether we even deserve it because, “shouldn’t it have happened to me by now if I was worthy to begin with?” We are haunted by thoughts & moments that we pushed to the side at one sad point either due to failure or by unfortunate necessity. These unrelenting ghosts fill us with hope & the audacity to think we can still achieve these greater things. Let’s be audacious then, shall we?
Welcome to my 555 series! Please read the introduction to this project {here}. Week 5 Post 4 Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow. -Melody Beattie
Welcome to the last week of my 555 series! Please read the introduction to this project {here}. Week 5 Post 3 I remember having chicken pox when I was 10 yrs old and hating that mom had to give me an oatmeal bath because I was so self conscious of my girly parts growing in. I remember running out to the yard in the afternoon heat with a glass of ice water for daddy as he cut the grass in his weekend trousers and garden gloves. I remember how my sister pinched my nostrils closed causing me to lose my breath & abruptly wake many a Saturday morning so I’d play Barbies or Strawberry Shortcake with her. I remember before bed time we’d all snuggle under plaid wool blankets in the family room watching ABC’s Happy Days on Tuesday nights. Now and then scenes from my childhood flash through my mind, and they make me chuckle with teary gratitude.
This is the fifth and final week of my 555 series, a project that was inspired by my time at The Hello Sessions. Week 5 Post 2 Since starting this 555 series I am a bit more disciplined and that feels great. I am more thoughtful about what I say, paying attention to “just enough” instead of wondering if I wrote about too much or about too little. The sh!t sandwich angle has come back into play, because when one is clearer on what she wants, a light shines brightly on the work she’d better be willing to put into getting it. I think my mind has started working differently – in a good way, making connections between things that I didn’t before. I’m even more curious about other people’s works in progress, side projects, and primary work because I get that everything is a multilayered process that in itself can already be pretty fascinating.
Welcome to my 555 series! Please read the introduction to this project {here}. Week 5 Post 1 It’s getting cold out here and it’s freaking me out. I am also preparing to go out of the country this weekend where the temps are wet and 10 degrees colder with highs of 45F. I just bought new sweaters and underlayers & own plenty of wool coats to choose from but am feeling stressed. I called Husband at work to tell him I’m freaking out about packing and whined like a sixteen-year old that, “my life is SO hard.” Obviously he hung up.
Even If Nobody Reads This 