I love that friends/readers that experience my fairytale firsthand REQUEST blog entries. This is such entry. KW - this is for you friend. ;)
The Vinsons run to the endzone, brand new couch in tow, TOUCHDOOOOOOWN COUCH!
My husband and I have made many purchases together. We've mastered the art of grocery shopping. We've bought beloved animals together, vehicles together, even agreed on paint colors together - but nothing would prepare us for the lesson we learned just 24 hours ago.
I have been wanting a new couch for a very long time. (For those of you that have purchased furniture with a spouse, you're laughing right now - knowing exactly where this is going.) I have spent hours in the past few months, visiting each furniture store in a 20 mile radius for a couch that was in mine and Hubby's budget, could be tolerated by both of us, that we could keep for a while. But nothing seemed to fit.
We were determined to wait until we found the perfect one, and were both willing to wait until such couch found us... until yesterday. Maybe it was the cool air... maybe it was the lack of afternoon nap... whatever it was - it made us load up in to the truck, go to only one furniture store... and make a purchase. A mistake really. A lesson really. We purchased the worst mistake/best lesson ever.
Let me explain something about our family dynamic. We're not like most couples. Normally the "whatever you want hunny, I don't care anymore" phrase comes from the male in the relationship. Normally the,"Ughhh, I can't decide, this is a big decision" phrase comes from the female... Reverse that - and that's us. I'm normally the quick-decisioned-whatever-makes-you-happy-dear one in our fairytale, and my wonderful prince is the over-thinking-super-analytical-my-way-or-high-way one.
This couch purchase would blur those roles a bit, resulting in... OLE' BLUE. Whatever image just popped into your head upon reading that is EXACTLY what we purchased... A large... fluffy... BLUE ... couch. Siiiiiiiigh. Here's the play-by-play of how this came to be.
Wifey sits in protest in the couch she chose.
Hubby swings right, insisting on Bachelor-pad-ugly-media-room-couch-recliner.
Wifey searches for open compromise.
Hubby intercepts idea, and finds suitable compromise with color options.
Pea Green, Dark Brown, Blue - set hut!
Both decide on green - begin searching for rug to tie in - then from the back!! - BAM - Hubby requests to see Blue in warehouse.
Wifey huddles with staff and friends, all eyes on her.
Hubby asks: "Green or Blue?"
Wifey sees hubby's random new Blue compromise: "Blue I guess..."
TOUCHDOOOOOOOWN COUCH.
Once the blue couch was in place... and by in place, I of course mean completely out of place, because there is not a shred of blue in my house at all, and we're not yet of retirement age where it would match my sweet porcelin collectables or grandchildren's finger paintings... once it was in the room I secretly boiled with resentment for agreeing to such an ugly thing that I now had to look at for years.
Unbeknownst to me - my husband was doing the exact same thing.
Here's what really happened on the field:
Hubby wants to finally buy wifey what she's wanted for a while: a couch.
Wifey finds uncomfortable couch, but pretty.
Hubby finds comfy couch, but ugly.
Both Wifey and Hubby search for suitable compromise.
Found it.
Hubby wonders what the blue looks like, all that was on the show room floor was pea green.
Hubby sees the blue and asks what Wifey thinks.
Wifey is intimidated by friends and staff around her.
Wifey also wants to make Hubby happy, and assumes that the blue will make him happy.
Wifey says okay to blue.
Hubby thinks Wifey is happy with blue, and that he saved the day by finding something he liked that Wifey liked too.
TOUCHDOOOOOOOWN COUCH.
Wifey questions why Hubby liked blue.
Hubby questions why Wifey liked blue.
Wifey and Hubby hate blue couch.
Wifey and Hubby wanted to make Hubby and Wifey happy.
Wifey and Hubby: 0 Couch: 1
Now. We learned a very important lesson that all couples, I assume, learn at some point (I doubt it costs them as much money as it did us to learn such lesson though). There are times when honesty and speaking your mind are needed and required. This was not one of those "honey, does my butt look big" situations.
See, we learned pretty quickly in our marriage, that when you just say whatever you're thinking, all the time, without considering the constructiveness of your words, you really just nag or tear down the other. So we've been really good about thinking before we speak, and asking ourselves if what we're saying is constructive and has a solution, or if we're just complaining or stating unchangable truths.
In our couch hunting adventure, both of us wanted to make the other happy, so we only said he constructive things, not thinking about the giant household centerpiece we would be forced to live with in our home for years to come. We just wanted to make the other happy - which normally works when one sticks to what makes them happy. When both assume the other role NO ONE ends up happy.
Our 'Ole Blue found himself on Craigslist last night. He still sits in our living room, sitting all blue and couchlike for now. If someone, more than likely over the age of 60, is in the market for a blue couch, 20 hours old, for a REALLY good price they should wander over to Craigslist. And if you're someone itching to learn the lesson I did, do so with a smile, irrational optimism, bitten tongue, and empty wallet.
Monday, October 1, 2012
Monday, September 17, 2012
To Your Corners
I'm not nieve enough to think that married life is perfect.
I know the fairy tales we read as kids told stories of happily ever afters - but there's a reason the stories ended at the 'I do's' with a kiss - because that's the easy part!
If they were to write stories of Cinderella never picking up her shoes, or Snow White always talking to birds more than her Prince - the reviews wouldn't quite be the same. But those things are marriage.
Think about it. You're married. You're living with a person everyday, eating, sleeping, watching tv together day in and day out. Remember weekends spent with best friends? How by the end of the weekend tempers would flare, patience disappeared, and normally some irrational drama would unfold? Weeell... you're basically living this cycle every day after you say 'I do.' You're married and living with your grown up best friend! I think this same thing still occurs, on a more grown up level of course... sometimes. Ha.
I think all marriages go through seasons of strife. Nobody talks about it, because that's no fun, there's nothing glamorous about admitting to not being perfect. Sometimes strife seasons last a few hours, sometimes days or weeks, and in tragic cases, strife seasons can last years; because it's hidden, avoided, covered up, or ignored, and normally ends with a not-so-happy attorney duel.
I think it's time to talk about it! I don't need to spit out the over-used statistics about divorce - we all know it happens WAY too often. But, I think I should spit out the truth to seasons of strife (as I encounter them and handle them the best my little newly-wed self can).
There's something to be said about boxing. Let me explain. I rarely watch the stuff, or the MMA stuff that has flooded TV's these days, but the few times I've managed to choke down an episode Hub wants to watch, I notice that when things get stuck or the fighters are latched on and neither budge, the ref jumps in and pulls them to their corners. Interesting.
I think there's something about time-outs too. Let me explain. I was NOTORIOUS for spending time in corners for time out. Mostly because during rare angelic lapses in my childhood I would require punishment. The way my parents dealt punishment was by giving us options: were given the option of a spanking or minutes spent in time out. My zero pain tolerance is not a recent occurrence, and I always chose time out. Most of the time during my time-out times spent with my nose in the corner, I would try to see images in the wall texture, but sometimes I would actually think about what I had just been punished for. I would replay what had happened and think of how I would do it differently if it happened again. Well played parents. Well played.
Corners. Not a bad idea. Now, I'm no pro. And I haven't even been married that long. But my feasible fairy tale has several chapters of not-so-perfect-ness. Try coming home from a honeymoon paying bills with quarters! The first few pages of my fairy tale were spent fighting circumstances, and inevitably eachother because of them. So I think I can speak with some veteran knowledge on this topic. Marriage is not perfect. But with a few calculated time-outs and times in your corners, working through the non-perfect times become easier.
Never underestimate the power of a corner. Be it a man/woman cave, be it a drive around the block, or an extra long bubble bath - take time in a corner to think, pray, replay moments, compile compromises, and breathe.
Seasons of strife are almost always followed by seasons of joy. In the form of flowers, in a date night, in the form of a long awaited talk time, etc. The season of strife doesn't last forever. So when your flatulating Prince leaves the toilet seat up, forgets to take his plate to the sink, or watches one too many episodes of whatever manly channel he's landed on; and when you, Princess, wear your sweats one more night, or Pinterest a bit too long, or leave your hair in the drain again - remember that strife is common, strife is temporary, and strife is fixable.
- Brought to you by a woman currently in the corner... finding images in wall texture. ;)
I know the fairy tales we read as kids told stories of happily ever afters - but there's a reason the stories ended at the 'I do's' with a kiss - because that's the easy part!
If they were to write stories of Cinderella never picking up her shoes, or Snow White always talking to birds more than her Prince - the reviews wouldn't quite be the same. But those things are marriage.
Think about it. You're married. You're living with a person everyday, eating, sleeping, watching tv together day in and day out. Remember weekends spent with best friends? How by the end of the weekend tempers would flare, patience disappeared, and normally some irrational drama would unfold? Weeell... you're basically living this cycle every day after you say 'I do.' You're married and living with your grown up best friend! I think this same thing still occurs, on a more grown up level of course... sometimes. Ha.
I think all marriages go through seasons of strife. Nobody talks about it, because that's no fun, there's nothing glamorous about admitting to not being perfect. Sometimes strife seasons last a few hours, sometimes days or weeks, and in tragic cases, strife seasons can last years; because it's hidden, avoided, covered up, or ignored, and normally ends with a not-so-happy attorney duel.
I think it's time to talk about it! I don't need to spit out the over-used statistics about divorce - we all know it happens WAY too often. But, I think I should spit out the truth to seasons of strife (as I encounter them and handle them the best my little newly-wed self can).
There's something to be said about boxing. Let me explain. I rarely watch the stuff, or the MMA stuff that has flooded TV's these days, but the few times I've managed to choke down an episode Hub wants to watch, I notice that when things get stuck or the fighters are latched on and neither budge, the ref jumps in and pulls them to their corners. Interesting.
I think there's something about time-outs too. Let me explain. I was NOTORIOUS for spending time in corners for time out. Mostly because during rare angelic lapses in my childhood I would require punishment. The way my parents dealt punishment was by giving us options: were given the option of a spanking or minutes spent in time out. My zero pain tolerance is not a recent occurrence, and I always chose time out. Most of the time during my time-out times spent with my nose in the corner, I would try to see images in the wall texture, but sometimes I would actually think about what I had just been punished for. I would replay what had happened and think of how I would do it differently if it happened again. Well played parents. Well played.
Corners. Not a bad idea. Now, I'm no pro. And I haven't even been married that long. But my feasible fairy tale has several chapters of not-so-perfect-ness. Try coming home from a honeymoon paying bills with quarters! The first few pages of my fairy tale were spent fighting circumstances, and inevitably eachother because of them. So I think I can speak with some veteran knowledge on this topic. Marriage is not perfect. But with a few calculated time-outs and times in your corners, working through the non-perfect times become easier.
Never underestimate the power of a corner. Be it a man/woman cave, be it a drive around the block, or an extra long bubble bath - take time in a corner to think, pray, replay moments, compile compromises, and breathe.
Seasons of strife are almost always followed by seasons of joy. In the form of flowers, in a date night, in the form of a long awaited talk time, etc. The season of strife doesn't last forever. So when your flatulating Prince leaves the toilet seat up, forgets to take his plate to the sink, or watches one too many episodes of whatever manly channel he's landed on; and when you, Princess, wear your sweats one more night, or Pinterest a bit too long, or leave your hair in the drain again - remember that strife is common, strife is temporary, and strife is fixable.
- Brought to you by a woman currently in the corner... finding images in wall texture. ;)
Friday, August 31, 2012
Meals On Wails
Being a wife is wonderful. I love when I can cook, clean, work to provide income for my family, and do charitable work all in one day! To accomplish a craft or two in that day would be ideal - but I'm not there yet. What I did add to this day, that did in fact happen, was a tear filled car ride... *sigh* Let me paint this picture for you:
I get a call at work, in the middle of a huge, time-sensitive project, from our local Meals on Wheels. It hits me like a ton of bricks. I had FORGOTTEN that I was supposed to fill in for the staff members that normally volunteer for a Meals on Wheels route. As luck would have it, our back-up person that is familiar with the route was also out for the day - so that meant I would be filling in... having never even assisted with the route our company is responsible for. I apologetically talk to the woman who informs me that I am already 20 minutes late for the normal route time. Now, I was briefed - very briefly - the day before on what to expect. But I neglected to write down anything that I was told (which is very unlike me).
So off I go. Trying to remember street names, parking lot locations, etc. I race down the road unsure of where I'm going. Then, out of no where, I see a truck in the left lane with a 'Meals on Wheels Driver' sign in his window - I swerve to the left lane and follow - unsure of where he's taking me. What do you know - he drives right to the Meals on Wheels location!! and keeps driving - he wasn't even going there! (this was a total Jesus occurance, I'm sure of it - why else would he just drive by the place and not stop?! - I could have creepilly followed this poor guy through his entire route!)
I pull into the parking lot and race inside. There is virtually no one in the room, that I was told is normally PACKED with people, except a sweet woman with a name tag, 3 insulated bags full of food, and a patient smile. She hands me a stack of papers including a list of 13 names and locations, a map, and a handbook and wishes me luck.
I'm now in my car. Staring at my map. I stared as if I were waiting for 'Tom Tom' to appear on the paper and tell me to take a left out of the parking lot. 'Tom Tom' never spoke. I crawled down streets glancing from paper to street signs, paper to street signs, as they did in the stone age (aka 10 years ago... I was driving 10 years ago... so this fact makes me feel incredibly old of course, as if I needed one more reason to cry). After I finally go the correct direction down the street my first location is on, it's already 12:15, and these people normally have their food and are happy and full by now!
Leave it to me to not only affirm stereotypes of female driving standards, but to withhold food from the elderly and disabled in my community! Winner.
I take a deep breath and start my mission. I am approached by a resident anxious to help me - I obviously looked like the new kid. She told me she had gotten wind from neighbors that they hadn't received their food today... the food in my pocession, so she was anxious to rescue her starving friends. She walks me through the list, and we, a team now, go down the list handing out warm edible bricks of gold. When we finished the majority of the list, I had 3 more locations to find, and my partner wished me luck.
Tell me. Architects of the world. Why would odd numbered buildings be located accross the street, at a separate location, looking nothing in apppearance like the location with even numbers? Any ideas? 'Cause I don't! But I sure asked myself this over and over as I hiked around the property as if it were Jerico. I asked it in a different tone when my first tears fell... from shear pathetic hopelessness. It was quite a pathetic scene. Believe me. Now, by this time I'm starting to get hungry - which only feeds my guilt of starving these poor people who's homes are hiding from me; which in turn adds to the the pitiful under-my-breath-while-crying-in-public rant I have going while, apparently, waiting for the walls to fall. *sigh*
I finally finish my route... 1 hour and 4 minutes later. What. A. Day.
I freshen my makeup and head back to work to finish my day, thinking about what a feat that was. My encounter is like nothing I read in fairytales. Snow White did this every day! Feeding bearded men, cleaning, cooking, maintaining a balanced diet of fruits (ba ha) and never needed to freshen her makeup! That's why I'm writing my own. This feasible fairytale stars a princess with poor directional skills, who cries often (especially during sensitive times of the month), and learns something new each day.
What did I learn on this day? Well.
1. Do NOT embark on journies alone that you have never seen before.
2. Learn to read a map.
3. Crying in public is rarely acceptable... and always pathetic.
I get a call at work, in the middle of a huge, time-sensitive project, from our local Meals on Wheels. It hits me like a ton of bricks. I had FORGOTTEN that I was supposed to fill in for the staff members that normally volunteer for a Meals on Wheels route. As luck would have it, our back-up person that is familiar with the route was also out for the day - so that meant I would be filling in... having never even assisted with the route our company is responsible for. I apologetically talk to the woman who informs me that I am already 20 minutes late for the normal route time. Now, I was briefed - very briefly - the day before on what to expect. But I neglected to write down anything that I was told (which is very unlike me).
So off I go. Trying to remember street names, parking lot locations, etc. I race down the road unsure of where I'm going. Then, out of no where, I see a truck in the left lane with a 'Meals on Wheels Driver' sign in his window - I swerve to the left lane and follow - unsure of where he's taking me. What do you know - he drives right to the Meals on Wheels location!! and keeps driving - he wasn't even going there! (this was a total Jesus occurance, I'm sure of it - why else would he just drive by the place and not stop?! - I could have creepilly followed this poor guy through his entire route!)
I pull into the parking lot and race inside. There is virtually no one in the room, that I was told is normally PACKED with people, except a sweet woman with a name tag, 3 insulated bags full of food, and a patient smile. She hands me a stack of papers including a list of 13 names and locations, a map, and a handbook and wishes me luck.
I'm now in my car. Staring at my map. I stared as if I were waiting for 'Tom Tom' to appear on the paper and tell me to take a left out of the parking lot. 'Tom Tom' never spoke. I crawled down streets glancing from paper to street signs, paper to street signs, as they did in the stone age (aka 10 years ago... I was driving 10 years ago... so this fact makes me feel incredibly old of course, as if I needed one more reason to cry). After I finally go the correct direction down the street my first location is on, it's already 12:15, and these people normally have their food and are happy and full by now!
Leave it to me to not only affirm stereotypes of female driving standards, but to withhold food from the elderly and disabled in my community! Winner.
I take a deep breath and start my mission. I am approached by a resident anxious to help me - I obviously looked like the new kid. She told me she had gotten wind from neighbors that they hadn't received their food today... the food in my pocession, so she was anxious to rescue her starving friends. She walks me through the list, and we, a team now, go down the list handing out warm edible bricks of gold. When we finished the majority of the list, I had 3 more locations to find, and my partner wished me luck.
Tell me. Architects of the world. Why would odd numbered buildings be located accross the street, at a separate location, looking nothing in apppearance like the location with even numbers? Any ideas? 'Cause I don't! But I sure asked myself this over and over as I hiked around the property as if it were Jerico. I asked it in a different tone when my first tears fell... from shear pathetic hopelessness. It was quite a pathetic scene. Believe me. Now, by this time I'm starting to get hungry - which only feeds my guilt of starving these poor people who's homes are hiding from me; which in turn adds to the the pitiful under-my-breath-while-crying-in-public rant I have going while, apparently, waiting for the walls to fall. *sigh*
I finally finish my route... 1 hour and 4 minutes later. What. A. Day.
I freshen my makeup and head back to work to finish my day, thinking about what a feat that was. My encounter is like nothing I read in fairytales. Snow White did this every day! Feeding bearded men, cleaning, cooking, maintaining a balanced diet of fruits (ba ha) and never needed to freshen her makeup! That's why I'm writing my own. This feasible fairytale stars a princess with poor directional skills, who cries often (especially during sensitive times of the month), and learns something new each day.
What did I learn on this day? Well.
1. Do NOT embark on journies alone that you have never seen before.
2. Learn to read a map.
3. Crying in public is rarely acceptable... and always pathetic.
Friday, August 17, 2012
A New Tire, Tylenol, and a Latte Please
Finding a new place to live is becoming as common as ordering a latte for our Fairytale. In the 2.5 years my sweet hub and I have been married, we're approaching our THIRD move. *sigh* Just call us nomads. In fact, pitching a tent may be what we HAVE to settle with if this third moving adventure doesn't find solace soon. Let me explain - I'm a visual person:
December 31, 2009 - Married
Move 1: July 1, 2010 - Moved from Apartment Bachelor Pad to Rental House/Electricity Pit
Move 2 (1/2): August 1, 2011 - Homelessness/Literal Roaming from Couch to Couch
Move 2 (1/2): September 1, 2011 - Moved Back to Apartment (Less Bachelor Pad-ish this time)
Move 3: September 11, 2012 - Our 30 days notice is up...
So - if you're seeing the date of this Blog entry - you can see that we have 24 days to find a place to live. Or we're homeless again.
Now, I promise, each move has had a motive, we're not just itching for a headache; however, we could probably own stock in Tylenol.
Move 1 Motive: a tiny 1 bedroom, 1 bathroom apartment with no 'time out' space is a recipe for horror film/newlywed disaster. Not to mention the unfavorable location of said disaster was the location of a fender bender, car break in, drunken woman at front door, and the potty training location for our dogter.
Move 2 Motive: the selling of my kidney to pay for $400 electric bill in a 700 square foot space. Okay... so my kidney is intact, but you get it. REDICULOUS UTILITY BILLS.
Move 3 Motive: the 'unfavorable location' we were soooo wise to willingly return to has been the location of yet another car break in (resulting in over $1200 in property stolen), an audible upstairs birth control (a.k.a 3 year old that apparently never learned to walk, only run and jump... at night), and as of 1 week ago, a SLASHED TIRE ON MY HUSBAND'S BRAND NEW TRUCK.
Break out the boxes... AGAIN.
So. Why put our notice in if we didn't have a place to live you ask? Well, we did. A perfect place! A perfect neighborhood! A perfect price! We had paid the deposit and were signing the lease and in bold letters:
Tenant agrees to []inside []outside only [X]no pets.
No Pets?! Uhhh.... whoops. Now. This is a long story. But the short version is: thought I could give away dog, was wrong, hubby loves me, told the land lord sorry. And NOOOOW we're in a bind. Naturally, the very next call was a "wait!!" call to the apartment complex... who informed us that our apartment had already been rented upon our departure. AAAAGGGGHHH! So. Here we are. Move #3 in progress. With homelessness as a grave possibility. God is good, and we're not too worried (yet). But oh our Fairytale, gotta love it! ;)
And I'll have no whip cream on that latte please. Thank you.
December 31, 2009 - Married
Move 1: July 1, 2010 - Moved from Apartment Bachelor Pad to Rental House/Electricity Pit
Move 2 (1/2): August 1, 2011 - Homelessness/Literal Roaming from Couch to Couch
Move 2 (1/2): September 1, 2011 - Moved Back to Apartment (Less Bachelor Pad-ish this time)
Move 3: September 11, 2012 - Our 30 days notice is up...
So - if you're seeing the date of this Blog entry - you can see that we have 24 days to find a place to live. Or we're homeless again.
Now, I promise, each move has had a motive, we're not just itching for a headache; however, we could probably own stock in Tylenol.
Move 1 Motive: a tiny 1 bedroom, 1 bathroom apartment with no 'time out' space is a recipe for horror film/newlywed disaster. Not to mention the unfavorable location of said disaster was the location of a fender bender, car break in, drunken woman at front door, and the potty training location for our dogter.
Move 2 Motive: the selling of my kidney to pay for $400 electric bill in a 700 square foot space. Okay... so my kidney is intact, but you get it. REDICULOUS UTILITY BILLS.
Move 3 Motive: the 'unfavorable location' we were soooo wise to willingly return to has been the location of yet another car break in (resulting in over $1200 in property stolen), an audible upstairs birth control (a.k.a 3 year old that apparently never learned to walk, only run and jump... at night), and as of 1 week ago, a SLASHED TIRE ON MY HUSBAND'S BRAND NEW TRUCK.
Break out the boxes... AGAIN.
So. Why put our notice in if we didn't have a place to live you ask? Well, we did. A perfect place! A perfect neighborhood! A perfect price! We had paid the deposit and were signing the lease and in bold letters:
Tenant agrees to []inside []outside only [X]no pets.
No Pets?! Uhhh.... whoops. Now. This is a long story. But the short version is: thought I could give away dog, was wrong, hubby loves me, told the land lord sorry. And NOOOOW we're in a bind. Naturally, the very next call was a "wait!!" call to the apartment complex... who informed us that our apartment had already been rented upon our departure. AAAAGGGGHHH! So. Here we are. Move #3 in progress. With homelessness as a grave possibility. God is good, and we're not too worried (yet). But oh our Fairytale, gotta love it! ;)
And I'll have no whip cream on that latte please. Thank you.
Friday, August 3, 2012
Blank-Canvas-itis
*insert cricket noise*
Can you imagine?.... blankness? ME?!
The amazing church I am apart of has an occasional gift on Sunday mornings that intrigues the creative and tortures the A.D.D. Every once in a while we will have 1-2 prophetic artists create amazing pieces of art inspired by something the Lord reveals to them before/during worship. The artists will start with a completely blank canvas, and by the end of the worship hour, the completed work is BREATH TAKING.
Now. I've been known to let my creative juices flow from time to time. People compliment me all the time on being 'creative.' In fact, since I can remember, it's been one of the words regularly associated with me. Now, I say this not to brag - it's actually mildly pathetic that my claim to fame is having ideas on turning a paper bag into wall art... not world peace... not intellectual advances for society... nope... I can use a glue gun. I digress. Anyways, so, seeing as I'm the 'go to girl' for all things needing creating, I've been ITCHING to get my hands on a canvas myself, and to see what pours out of me.
And it happened! I received a glorious text message from a cousin that knew my interest, inviting me to borrow a canvas and paint and have a painting night. *cue angelic chorus* It was my chance! She came over, canvas, paints, and brushes in tow. We set everything up, looked at our canvas and......
*cricket noise*
Seriously. That's what happened. NOTHING. I sat and sat. Thought and thought. Pinterest ideas flooding my mind and NOTHING. I attempted one of the cute word art things I've seen a thosand times... and people. I morphed into a 9 year old child right before my eyes. Suddenly, my handwriting was rediculous, the paint brush in my hand turned into a noodle, and the canvas looked like it had come right out of a 3rd grade meet-the-teacher-night. I painted over my 'masterpiece' and stared some more at the blank (now black) canvas in front of me. This was embarassing. I was supposed to be Creative Barbie, complete with a hand made apron and miniature modge-podge bottle.
What happened? Where was my creativity? Where was my skill?! The canvas won. I lost.
Then, I remembered that creativity doesn't always have to be done with a paint brush. I've told this blank canvas adventure a few times to people, and as I tell it, I realize that 'my art don't need no stinking paintbrush.' My art is my words!
I've always loved to write. I had a poem published when I was 13. I was editor of my High School Newspaper my Senior year. Competed in journalism competitions. I was a headline writer for my College Newspaper. Writing is my art.
I love that even through this blog I can allow people to nod their heads in agreement, chuckle, or roll their eyes. I love that I can give you a word image of something from my Feasible Fairytale, and you have a better understanding of who I am. Looking at a great sculpture, a beatiful painting, or any other art can do the same. I'm just much too talkative to not do it with words. So thanks for reading my canvas! I think I'll hang up my paintbrushes for a while... until a 3rd grader can show me how it's done.
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Happy 4th of... too old for this!
Here's how this story starts:
RING RING
Me: "Hello?"
Hub: "Hey... wanna go to East Texas for the 4th?"
Me: "Umm that's tomorrow, as in, leave tonight when you get off?"
Hub: "Yep"
Me: "As in, drive the 5 hours back after the fireworks to be home for work Thursday?"
Hub: "Yep"
* Let me pause here. The responsible adult thing that should come is "Nah, that sounds like fun honey, but we really shouldn't, we have to work and that's a really long drive.".... Here's what happened instead:
Me: "Awww, yay! We're young and spontaneous! I'll pack us a bag as soon as I get home!"
Here's how this story ends.
Me. Driving. Adele blaring through the speakers. Energy drink by my side. Hubby snoring sweetly beside me. GPS bossing me as usual. Clock changing from 11pm to 1am to 2:30 am, etc.
I had a lot of thinking to do in between chorus lines... I am NOT as young and spontaneous as I thought I was.
What happened to the days when 3:30am was when me and my Jr. High buddies finished up our hundredth prank call to cute boys in the year book? What happened to the days when 3:30am is when me and my fellow college students crammed a Whataburger taquito into our late night "study time?" What happened to the days when 3:30am was when me and my, then, boyfriend, finally said goodnight for the billionth time? Where did the time go?
At 3:30am on the 5th of July, I was pulling groggy eyed up to my apartment, with a wonderful husband, a car that is paid off, a sweet fur baby in the back seat, happy to be alive and AWAKE and suddenly aware that age may not be such a scary thing. The laugh lines growing and the multiplying premature grays may not be so bad after all. If it means more memories behind them, and more lessons learned at 3:30am - adulthood and non-spontaneous road trips - bring. it. on. :)
RING RING
Me: "Hello?"
Hub: "Hey... wanna go to East Texas for the 4th?"
Me: "Umm that's tomorrow, as in, leave tonight when you get off?"
Hub: "Yep"
Me: "As in, drive the 5 hours back after the fireworks to be home for work Thursday?"
Hub: "Yep"
* Let me pause here. The responsible adult thing that should come is "Nah, that sounds like fun honey, but we really shouldn't, we have to work and that's a really long drive.".... Here's what happened instead:
Me: "Awww, yay! We're young and spontaneous! I'll pack us a bag as soon as I get home!"
Here's how this story ends.
Me. Driving. Adele blaring through the speakers. Energy drink by my side. Hubby snoring sweetly beside me. GPS bossing me as usual. Clock changing from 11pm to 1am to 2:30 am, etc.
I had a lot of thinking to do in between chorus lines... I am NOT as young and spontaneous as I thought I was.
What happened to the days when 3:30am was when me and my Jr. High buddies finished up our hundredth prank call to cute boys in the year book? What happened to the days when 3:30am is when me and my fellow college students crammed a Whataburger taquito into our late night "study time?" What happened to the days when 3:30am was when me and my, then, boyfriend, finally said goodnight for the billionth time? Where did the time go?
At 3:30am on the 5th of July, I was pulling groggy eyed up to my apartment, with a wonderful husband, a car that is paid off, a sweet fur baby in the back seat, happy to be alive and AWAKE and suddenly aware that age may not be such a scary thing. The laugh lines growing and the multiplying premature grays may not be so bad after all. If it means more memories behind them, and more lessons learned at 3:30am - adulthood and non-spontaneous road trips - bring. it. on. :)
Friday, June 15, 2012
[Palm] Trees & Snow [Cones]
My name is Tamatha. And I am a (reasonable) shop-o-holic.
*this is where you say hi*
There's something about breaking out sunglasses and summer vacations that says, "CHRISTMAS SHOPPING!"....... right?
The rush I get from looking at summer clearance racks and Amazon's daily deals beats any perfectly risen cupcake or great pedicure (... yeah. I live an exciting life). When that tag says '80% off' or 'blowout sale' - it might as well be saying, 'tamatha - you are so smart for buying this, you go girl'. And how am I supposed to turn down such a sweet compliment?
Sooo, convinced that I am a millionaire, I purchase Christmas gifts months in advance, hide them from the view of naysayers and the hubby (who REFUSES to enable this glorious addiction - rude right?), then torment myself with a bout of buyers remorse and the occasional return. AAAAGGGHHH! I. Have. An. Issue.
I feel like a legit addict. Constantly checking my stash. Jittery if someone (ie. Hubby) mentions bank statements. Frantically hiding evidence (receipts, bags, happiness, etc.). Even police cars freak me out... as if they just know. Sigh. It's a tough life to live.
I suppose the responsible thing to do is to stop. But when an addict quits something cold turkey... well, it's not pretty. And why would someone volunteer to be 'not pretty.'
Many people admire my thrifty and forward thinking technique. I would be letting them down if I stop!
There's a compromise somewhere... I just can't seem to find it.
Thus far, I have mastered the 'oh, I like this' - carry it around for a while - 'crap, I can't get this' - put it down & leave technique. Which my Hubby has been very proud of. But I've got to get my fix somehow... *ignores the obvious addiction jargon, now in denile of any of the previous statements* Psshh, I don't have a PROBLEM - I'm a genius! Christmas shop everyone! It's liberating!
Merry Christmas to all and to all a Happy Summer ;)
*this is where you say hi*
There's something about breaking out sunglasses and summer vacations that says, "CHRISTMAS SHOPPING!"....... right?
The rush I get from looking at summer clearance racks and Amazon's daily deals beats any perfectly risen cupcake or great pedicure (... yeah. I live an exciting life). When that tag says '80% off' or 'blowout sale' - it might as well be saying, 'tamatha - you are so smart for buying this, you go girl'. And how am I supposed to turn down such a sweet compliment?
Sooo, convinced that I am a millionaire, I purchase Christmas gifts months in advance, hide them from the view of naysayers and the hubby (who REFUSES to enable this glorious addiction - rude right?), then torment myself with a bout of buyers remorse and the occasional return. AAAAGGGHHH! I. Have. An. Issue.
I feel like a legit addict. Constantly checking my stash. Jittery if someone (ie. Hubby) mentions bank statements. Frantically hiding evidence (receipts, bags, happiness, etc.). Even police cars freak me out... as if they just know. Sigh. It's a tough life to live.
I suppose the responsible thing to do is to stop. But when an addict quits something cold turkey... well, it's not pretty. And why would someone volunteer to be 'not pretty.'
Many people admire my thrifty and forward thinking technique. I would be letting them down if I stop!
There's a compromise somewhere... I just can't seem to find it.
Thus far, I have mastered the 'oh, I like this' - carry it around for a while - 'crap, I can't get this' - put it down & leave technique. Which my Hubby has been very proud of. But I've got to get my fix somehow... *ignores the obvious addiction jargon, now in denile of any of the previous statements* Psshh, I don't have a PROBLEM - I'm a genius! Christmas shop everyone! It's liberating!
Merry Christmas to all and to all a Happy Summer ;)
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Hairy Situation
Hair. Most of us have it. For a while. And 80% of those that have it, tend to change it occasionally, be it color, length, style, etc. I too have hair, and fall into that 80%... I also fall into the 100% of Americans that are impatient and think they can do things themselves. This combination resulted in a butchered 'swoopy bang' trim attempt made by yours truly and an emergency hair appointment at my salon, to which my hair stylist actually laughed. Now I am the proud owner of blunt bangs.
I attempted this look a year ago, voluntarilly, but it's just something about being FORCED into a hairstyle, I'm pretty sure you're supposed to hate it. Now, I'm not quite to hate, I'm tolerating it for now. It's the responses to this new due that is making me slip into hatred. Here are first reactions from prominent people in my life:
Mother: "Awww, precious!"
Husband: *places hands on my cheeks* "Punkin."
Aunt: "I didn't even recognize you - you've got this Mandy Moore thing going."
(Imaginary-ish) Looks from random strangers: "What a hoodlum."
... all things you want to hear as a grown woman. Right? Sigh.
I've noticed these really funny signs going around the web, and thought I'd construct my own, because a picture is worth more than this blog entry. THIS sums it up:
I attempted this look a year ago, voluntarilly, but it's just something about being FORCED into a hairstyle, I'm pretty sure you're supposed to hate it. Now, I'm not quite to hate, I'm tolerating it for now. It's the responses to this new due that is making me slip into hatred. Here are first reactions from prominent people in my life:
Mother: "Awww, precious!"
Husband: *places hands on my cheeks* "Punkin."
Aunt: "I didn't even recognize you - you've got this Mandy Moore thing going."
(Imaginary-ish) Looks from random strangers: "What a hoodlum."
... all things you want to hear as a grown woman. Right? Sigh.
I've noticed these really funny signs going around the web, and thought I'd construct my own, because a picture is worth more than this blog entry. THIS sums it up:
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Joyful Stranger
Well hello. It has certainly been a while! About 3 months! Why the absence? Well, it could be the new job, the wonderful companionship of my husband with a new job as well, the endless piles of laundry that STILL never seem to get done, the baby shopping I've been doing for my new nephew or my unborn neice due anyday, or the fluffy cloud of bliss I've been floating on for a few months not having gps. I'll let you choose.
Yes, it's true. Life has been good. Not perfect, but good. My feasible fairytale was bound to contain a FEW high points among the sea of comedic lows. And so it has. Normally I would approach this seemingly perfect period with my regular adorable pessimism waiting for it to end - but not this time. Cliche as it may sound, we've taken a different course of action. Rather than tiptoeing on happiness, waiting to trip over a terrible 'never saw that coming' circumstance - I've chosen to march onward valliantly, knowing that IF that 'never saw that coming' circumstance crops up, I DID experience bliss for a while, and bliss is allowed second helpings. Sure, crud happens, but so does blessing! Why live life waiting for the crud instead of enjoying the blessing?! Now I know, easy to say on THIS side, right? Well, that's why I'm writing it - you silly people think I just write for you? (...I do, don't listen to me) I know myself all to well, and reverting to my REALISTIC outlook is pretty much inevitable. BUUUUT, if I have record of knowing joy comes sometimes too, I'll have no choice but to push through the crud life finds itself in and wait for the blessing to come creeping out (to which I will throw it a party, buy it a pony, and never let it go).
So this joyful stranger just wanted to check in and say "Nanner Nanner, I'm happy,*sticks out tongue*" and testify to the power of the paradigm shift. Change your thinking, wait for good, understand that good is really God's way of rewarding you for being strong through the crud, and never take it for granted. Thus sayith me.
Yes, it's true. Life has been good. Not perfect, but good. My feasible fairytale was bound to contain a FEW high points among the sea of comedic lows. And so it has. Normally I would approach this seemingly perfect period with my regular adorable pessimism waiting for it to end - but not this time. Cliche as it may sound, we've taken a different course of action. Rather than tiptoeing on happiness, waiting to trip over a terrible 'never saw that coming' circumstance - I've chosen to march onward valliantly, knowing that IF that 'never saw that coming' circumstance crops up, I DID experience bliss for a while, and bliss is allowed second helpings. Sure, crud happens, but so does blessing! Why live life waiting for the crud instead of enjoying the blessing?! Now I know, easy to say on THIS side, right? Well, that's why I'm writing it - you silly people think I just write for you? (...I do, don't listen to me) I know myself all to well, and reverting to my REALISTIC outlook is pretty much inevitable. BUUUUT, if I have record of knowing joy comes sometimes too, I'll have no choice but to push through the crud life finds itself in and wait for the blessing to come creeping out (to which I will throw it a party, buy it a pony, and never let it go).
So this joyful stranger just wanted to check in and say "Nanner Nanner, I'm happy,*sticks out tongue*" and testify to the power of the paradigm shift. Change your thinking, wait for good, understand that good is really God's way of rewarding you for being strong through the crud, and never take it for granted. Thus sayith me.
Friday, February 17, 2012
The Magic Words...
I received WONDERFUL news this week from my sister-in-law that the tiny peanut growing inside her.... IS A GIRL!! So in just 4ish months I will be the VERY proud Aunt-T of niece! I couldn't be more excited!! I've looooove having a nephew, and even though I don't get to see him as often as I would like, it is such a joy when I do get to see how much he's grown, how handsome his features are becoming, and soon his personality and voice will be seen and heard, and I cannot WAIT. And to think about this summer, and the sweet GIRL I get to hold and see the same in, is just too much joy to contain :)
Soooo, as any normal auntie would do, I set out to purchase a gift for my sweet un-born niece. Husband in tow, we trecked through baby isles, cooing at item after item (me cooing, him groaning at the price tags), and then I saw something magical happen... my husband touched a coo-worthy item... said he could see our kid wearing it... then... came the magic words: "Get me out of this section..... IT'S MAKING ME WANT A KID."
*cue jaw drops, gasps, girly EEEE's, OMG's, text/phone calls saying "What?", etc.
Yeah! My husband said the magic words!! The words were quickly followed by extreme back-peddling when he saw the shock/surprise/smile on my face. He clarified by stating that he wanted it to be a male child, in no time soon, and not until they produce the technology to guarantee the gender. I might add to that list: when they discover actual money-growing trees. Ha! So sorry friends and family, no babies here. But the bug definitely bit the hubster, momentarilly, and I thought he'd be un-bitable!
It is inevitable for eyes to immediately fall on us, when every other female sibling in the family has a child or is with child. (literally, every female, hub's step sister even announced this week that SHE'S expecting too!) And when those eyes fall on us, we have decided to immediately look to God. Cliche, I know. But really. We don't know why we don't have that itch to start a family, we're not sure when or if we ever will. Neither of us get cute butterflies thinking about having children of our own, we honestly find the idea crazy and expensive! But we do know that when God deems us ready, we've asked Him to make it VERY obvious to us.... I'm hoping it's not a cute butterfly landing on my belly or something cheesy like that... for it to be clear to me it's going to take that butterfly actually SPEAKING to me... in Spanish... followed by an interpretive dance... with a dozen ladybug back up dancers.
So for all of those hearing my excitment over being an aunt and wondering, as most people have been, when I'll be next, the answer is in no time soon, no matter what magic words crop up, unless the Lord wants otherwise. I am sooooo excited and happy for the sisters in our life that are embarking on the journey of motherhood, and I hope I can be an aunt their little ones look up to. But for now, I'll leave the mothering to them. In fact... I may have established a phobia of talking butterflies now... lovely.
Soooo, as any normal auntie would do, I set out to purchase a gift for my sweet un-born niece. Husband in tow, we trecked through baby isles, cooing at item after item (me cooing, him groaning at the price tags), and then I saw something magical happen... my husband touched a coo-worthy item... said he could see our kid wearing it... then... came the magic words: "Get me out of this section..... IT'S MAKING ME WANT A KID."
*cue jaw drops, gasps, girly EEEE's, OMG's, text/phone calls saying "What?", etc.
Yeah! My husband said the magic words!! The words were quickly followed by extreme back-peddling when he saw the shock/surprise/smile on my face. He clarified by stating that he wanted it to be a male child, in no time soon, and not until they produce the technology to guarantee the gender. I might add to that list: when they discover actual money-growing trees. Ha! So sorry friends and family, no babies here. But the bug definitely bit the hubster, momentarilly, and I thought he'd be un-bitable!
It is inevitable for eyes to immediately fall on us, when every other female sibling in the family has a child or is with child. (literally, every female, hub's step sister even announced this week that SHE'S expecting too!) And when those eyes fall on us, we have decided to immediately look to God. Cliche, I know. But really. We don't know why we don't have that itch to start a family, we're not sure when or if we ever will. Neither of us get cute butterflies thinking about having children of our own, we honestly find the idea crazy and expensive! But we do know that when God deems us ready, we've asked Him to make it VERY obvious to us.... I'm hoping it's not a cute butterfly landing on my belly or something cheesy like that... for it to be clear to me it's going to take that butterfly actually SPEAKING to me... in Spanish... followed by an interpretive dance... with a dozen ladybug back up dancers.
So for all of those hearing my excitment over being an aunt and wondering, as most people have been, when I'll be next, the answer is in no time soon, no matter what magic words crop up, unless the Lord wants otherwise. I am sooooo excited and happy for the sisters in our life that are embarking on the journey of motherhood, and I hope I can be an aunt their little ones look up to. But for now, I'll leave the mothering to them. In fact... I may have established a phobia of talking butterflies now... lovely.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Test Time
The next week ahead will hold a couple of tests for me! I have 25 exciting months being a wife under my belt. I've been a puppy deliverer, a cupcake baker, a Pinterest addict, a jewelry maker, a wannabe photographer, a sewing-beginner, a laundry sorter, a mover/unpacker, an aunt, a cake decorator, and homeless. But is that enough to embark on 2 large tasks in the same week that I'm mildly panicked about? Doubtful.
1. COOK-TO-IMPRESS-AND-NOT-EMBARASS
Wednesday I am hosting the dinner for our Church Small Group. The small group I was hesitant to join because I knew my turn to host the meal would come around eventually. Pathetic. I know. But now it's here! And I'm fighting the urge to either move away or become suddenly struck with an illness of non-cooking proportions. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH! Now, if it were a meal of cupcakes and beads, I'd be set, and wouldn't even break a sweat, but a DINNER? Like a whole MEAL? Cooked well? For 8-10 people? Ummmm.... this will be interesting. I've only ever "cooked" (and by cooked I mean, rotated the same 3 meals my husband manages to choke down) for 2 people EVER. Now I'm increasing my portions and have not the slightest clue HOW plus making sure it's good enough to not be that meal that people sneak dinner in before??!! Sigh. Freaking out.
2. HOST-A-SHOWER-AND-DON'T-CRY-OR-DISAPPOINT
Then, the following weekend I will be hosting a Wedding Shower for a Bride-to-be cousin, by myself! Wedding Showers are a Bride's first taste of being the center of attention, they're like Christmas, and lame if not planned well. No pressure cousin-of-the-bride who volunteered to do this! Ha! Now, I'm a big girl, and have budgeted, brainstormed, and Pinterested plenty up to this point, but now that it's almost here, I'm having serious doubts of my party-planning abilities! Again, if Pinterest and puppies are all that's needed, I've totally got this. But when my perfectionist self plans 4 dessert options, perfectly coordinated colors, handmade favors, and strategically "hip" party games, the expectations set on myself are rather high. If all doesn't go the way the Martha Stewart magazine I've laid out in my head for this shower is supposed to, I fear my reaction. I'm don't think I'm one of those women that pouts and actually cries when a party doesn't go as planned, but there's a first time for everything... *remembers dentist's office adventure*
Next week will definitely test the abilities I've humerously attempted the past couple of years as a wife. Cramming is required. This weekend I'm probably going to test some recipe's, start rounding up and making shower decor, google easy recipes for dummies, and brush up on my laundry and organizing skills... completely unrelated to my cramming session, but equally nessesary due to the neglect this week of worrying has accumulated.
Stand by for test results... they're sure to be entertaining... and probably 70% embarassing... Stay tuned.
1. COOK-TO-IMPRESS-AND-NOT-EMBARASS
Wednesday I am hosting the dinner for our Church Small Group. The small group I was hesitant to join because I knew my turn to host the meal would come around eventually. Pathetic. I know. But now it's here! And I'm fighting the urge to either move away or become suddenly struck with an illness of non-cooking proportions. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH! Now, if it were a meal of cupcakes and beads, I'd be set, and wouldn't even break a sweat, but a DINNER? Like a whole MEAL? Cooked well? For 8-10 people? Ummmm.... this will be interesting. I've only ever "cooked" (and by cooked I mean, rotated the same 3 meals my husband manages to choke down) for 2 people EVER. Now I'm increasing my portions and have not the slightest clue HOW plus making sure it's good enough to not be that meal that people sneak dinner in before??!! Sigh. Freaking out.
2. HOST-A-SHOWER-AND-DON'T-CRY-OR-DISAPPOINT
Then, the following weekend I will be hosting a Wedding Shower for a Bride-to-be cousin, by myself! Wedding Showers are a Bride's first taste of being the center of attention, they're like Christmas, and lame if not planned well. No pressure cousin-of-the-bride who volunteered to do this! Ha! Now, I'm a big girl, and have budgeted, brainstormed, and Pinterested plenty up to this point, but now that it's almost here, I'm having serious doubts of my party-planning abilities! Again, if Pinterest and puppies are all that's needed, I've totally got this. But when my perfectionist self plans 4 dessert options, perfectly coordinated colors, handmade favors, and strategically "hip" party games, the expectations set on myself are rather high. If all doesn't go the way the Martha Stewart magazine I've laid out in my head for this shower is supposed to, I fear my reaction. I'm don't think I'm one of those women that pouts and actually cries when a party doesn't go as planned, but there's a first time for everything... *remembers dentist's office adventure*
Next week will definitely test the abilities I've humerously attempted the past couple of years as a wife. Cramming is required. This weekend I'm probably going to test some recipe's, start rounding up and making shower decor, google easy recipes for dummies, and brush up on my laundry and organizing skills... completely unrelated to my cramming session, but equally nessesary due to the neglect this week of worrying has accumulated.
Stand by for test results... they're sure to be entertaining... and probably 70% embarassing... Stay tuned.
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