Day 6 | View on Mainstream Music

I have found that almost every genre of music has something good in it. It is also as subjective as someone's favorite color, food, or footwear.

I don't have satellite radio and I don't own an iPod. Local radio and the occasional cd are what I have at my disposal.

Due to my current demographic, country music and hip-hop are the most popular. I'm sure we aren't without a few, but we do not seem to possess the required amount of hipsters to sustain that particular genre.

My views are non-committal but valid: Music is like beauty - it is as it does; it is in the eye or ear of the beholder.

Whatever moves your soul; whatever gives you goosebumps; whatever you connect with; whatever makes you close your eyes and transports you somewhere you love...crank it way up.

Day 5 | Things You Want To Say To An Ex

If I gave in to the small, hurt Janelle, the one with the pitchfork and pointy tail, this post would be a stagnant sea of expletives. Or, symbols, rather, because she's still a lady. And believe me when I say it is tempting. Tempting to let fly with every accusation, quickly followed by a well-versed & rehearsed justification of why a long and torturous demise is appropriate; generous, even.

But I won't.

If anyone's tired of hearing about it, it's me. It still (and always will) make for some of the best anecdotes to be shared over a couple glasses of wine. But I've worked hard to put it behind me, beneath me. Some parts of it, the parts that don't pair well with wine, the parts that only a tight circle are aware of, need to be left unsaid. To be removed from my identity and left to turn to dust.

So, what would I say?

Anticlimactically?

Nothing.

There is nothing left to say. Not an arms-crossed, passive-aggressive, pouty-bottom-lip kind of "nothing". A very literal "nothing".

No more of my energy and resources will be exerted beyond what is legally required.

And so much of the time, silence speaks for itself.

Day 4 | Bullet Your Whole Day

Because it is still the morning of today, I'm going to shoot bullets through yesterday.

• Get son & self ready for church
• Sean arrives
• Drop dogs off at Opa & Oma's to play while the humans are at church
• Eric to Sunday School and us to the service
• Catch up with friends
• Leave for lunch a little early - Sean not feeling well
• Play Tetris with the tables at restaurant to accommodate inevitable arrival of mass quantities of family/friends
• Head home
• Sean naps; I edit photos from Saturdays' shoot; Eric puts camo barn boots on and heads over to the dairy
• Sean & I head to dairy
• Dad & I leave for Christmas choir practice
• Sing, sing, sing
• Come home to the men I love
• Eat pumpkin pie
• Put my little squirt to bed
• Wonder why the dogs are acting maniacal
• Bed

Day 3 | A Book I Love

My first unbridled love affair with a book burst forth while I was spending a summer in New Hampshire.

When I wasn't working, you could find me on my towel on a number of aging, mossy docks that jutted into Squam Lake like staccato notes in a watery song.

I was typically in a bikini-clad, closed-eye state with my headphones in, Hawaiian Tropic on, and defenses down.

During one of my shifts, in-between clients, I was perusing Amazon.com for the perfect summer read. And when I locked eyes with Mona Lisa, it was over. It was the first and only time love at first sight would weave its spell around my perpetually-skeptical heart. I read the teaser on the jacket, but mostly out of habit. Any further convincing was unnecessary. I could tell instantly that the story was one of history, of codes & riddles (love!), of a mild romance that served more as a sweet footnote throughout some of the more intense parts of the book.

I needed to hold it in my hands. To smell the pages as I resist the lustful urge to leap forward into the next chapters to see if I had correctly deciphered the ancient puzzles; to stamp my imagination's passport as it discovers illuminated fountains and hand-chiseled statues.

I am grateful to Dan Brown for the experience of a lifetime...via Professor Robert Langdon.

Day 2 | Something I Feel Strongly About

One of the most powerful mindsets available to us is gratitude.

It is a choice. And it is life-changing.

It doesn't change circumstances; it doesn't give you answers like the "all-knowing" 8-ball. It simply makes good things amazing and painful things more bearable.

For example, I am super-duper, Scooby-dooby-dooooo proud of how well my son can read. The concept of phonics, letter sounds & relationships, grammar & puncuation, and even proper voice-inflection has come to him as naturally as his Jedi abilities (or, as I like to think, he gets it from his mother.) And this is great. But let's add some gratitude, shall we? And suddenly, "my boy can read well" becomes:

What an incredible gift that will last a lifetime! Eric is now able to read information, absorb it, and store it away forever! Who knows what he will read that will become pertinent in his life down the road! I am so thankful that God blessed him with such a sharp mind! And how fantastic is it that I get to watch a whole new world open up to my Noodle every time he figures out a new word! We have been blessed with caring teachers, a wonderful & safe school, and an infinite amount of books (read The Book Thief to appreciate this). Every single day.

On the opposite end of the spectrum is gratitude in the midst of pain/despair/adversity. And it goes without saying that this can be hard. Like, hard. It goes against every angry, screaming, tear-filled fiber of our being. Most of us have visualized our pretty, manicured hands introducing itself to the side of some unhelpful smiling face as it spews every disgusting, "silver-lining" cliché Hallmark ever created. (Resist the urge.)

But here's the thing - anger, in and of itself, is not a bad thing. It's a valid emotion just like joy, love, sadness, and disappointment. But anger has a tendency to make us think or do bad things. Feeling angry with God is a common scenario, and He allows that of us. What He doesn't want is for us to curse His name and lose our faith in Him. Similarly, you may be driving and see your ex-boyfriend or an ex-best friend who hurt you so deeply that "accidentally" plowing into them in your car seems completely lucid and reasonable.

More personally, my marriage and subsequent divorce have been the single-most awful things I've experienced in my life to date. I felt a lot of things during those times; "good" was not one of them. In the later years, anger and bitterness...hate...were my constant companions regarding that specific relationship. On the surface, I still seemed like a great wife, doing all the "wifey" things I was supposed to. On the inside, I was anxiously waiting for one of the {many} phone calls from the police to tell me he was finally gone. One of his selfish decisions finally turned and laughed in his face and dropped an Acme anvil on him.

This is not healthy thinking. There was no gratitude then. But it is an honest glimpse into my head/heart that time.

People who have met me post-divorce have expressed surprise in how I "turned out" when they become aware of what that part of my past consisted of. And I don't bat an eye when I tell them I am most definitely not the same person I was then. That experience chiseled me into the woman you know me as today.

And I needed to go through that to be able to succeed after it. And I am thankful for that. Thankful for being independent and being comfortable with what some people mistook for " being alone". For being given the gift of learning from another's mistakes (and my own). For being able to tell when someone truly loves me and being able to love them fiercely in return. For being able to use Jesus' example in response to some of Eric's hard questions. For the chance to watch the incredible web of support being woven beneath me by my family by simply being themselves.

Do I still have bad days? Oh yeah. Am I now this individual overflowing with rainbows and butterflies and giggles? Uh...no. Am I a silly girl surrounded by love and blessed beyond all reason in spite of herself? And am I thankful for that?

Are Hallmark cards overpriced? ;)

Day One | 5 Ways to Win My Heart

{This is the beginning of a 30-Day Challenge I've decided to tackle, with poise & grace, no less.} {Heh.}

1. I am a natural conversationalist, so engaging me in conversation, especially about things you know I have an interest in, is a guarantee.
2. Thoughtfulness. Little things that say "You were on my mind." or "I know you well enough to know that you would appreciate this." Things that don't have to be done...they just are.
3. Make me laugh. Not an easy feat, seeing as how I think I'm one of the most hilarious beings on earth.
4. Appreciate me. "Please" and "Thank you" fulfill this one quite nicely. Yet, I still find them hard to come by these days. Makes my heart go, "Hmph." instead of "Mmmm." So, say them. (Please.)
5. One of the 5 Love Languages: offer me words of affirmation on something you genuinely think I did/do well. It makes me feel like I can fly.
6. I'm throwing in an extra one because I feel it has become somewhat of an epidemic: if I hug you, hug me back. Not a one-armed, dead-fish, patronizing, infantile pat-on-the-back-like-you're-tyring-to-burp-me "hug". I'm inviting you into my space. My personal space. I don't just go around doing that all willy-nilly. HUG ME. Like you're grateful for my friendship. Like you would if we were saying goodbye for a really long time. You just never know, lovelies.

______________

In case you'd love to jump on-board, here is the challenge! Leave a comment with your blog address so we can embark on it together!

Betty {Crock}

One resounding theme among women seems to be how we bite off more than we can chew. We over-commit. We are people-pleasers. We have a hard time saying no. We are convinced we must be the be-all, do-all, know-all, FOR all.

This isn't entirely our fault. We can non-accusingly say that those around us expect it, at least to some degree. And, to add conviction to obligation, we love most of the people we surround ourselves with, so of course we don't want to tell them no or "disappoint" them.

There is a plethora of books/studies/workbooks/prayers/mantras written specifically for this reason; specifically to help make sure you don't think less of yourself by convincing yourself that others think less of you.

Pretty sure my eyes just crossed involuntarily.

Here's the thing: I know it's ok to decline sometimes. I know the world won't stop turning because I don't volunteer. I know I'll remain loved by those who matter even if I can't be there/bring this/cook that.

But that matters little when you want to do those things. Needs need to come first, and that definitely helps narrow the list down. But what do you do with the "wants"?

If you're anything like me, you have several different circles of friends. All of whom you enjoy spending time with...right?? These friends want to meet up for drinks, these friends are having a bbq, it's this friend's birthday, these friends want to plan a trip, and this friend just really needs you right now.

And I want to do it all. I want to cultivate every one of those relationships. Each person is important to me in a different, beautiful way.

Did I mention my sweet son? (Homework, class parties, birthdays, friends, shooting bad guys, life lessons in general...)

And my wonderful boyfriend? (Date nights, work, schedule-juggling, handling the holidays, making sure he knows I'm proud of him, respect and love him, figuring out life in general...)

And my amazing family? (Birthdays, graduations, performances, babysitting, dinners together...)

And my two youngest "children" - Gracie & Gus? (Playing, eating, potty, sleeping, petting, instructing, shedding...)

And we can't forget about my church family (Sunday mornings, choir practice, support system), and my girls at the pool (AquaZumba! Aw yeah!), and my desire to volunteer.

These are all things I want to be a part of. Granted, my son is an immovable priority, but you know what I mean. When "needs" aren't necessarily a factor; when the activities on the horizon all have the same level of importance (Code Orange!); what do you do? How do you decide to divvy-up your time?

And when do you decide you'd just like to sit your pretty little buns on the couch with your favorite VS sweats, a glass of ___________, and one of your all-time favorite movies?

I am truly interested in the method to your (lovely) madness.

Feel free to comment between batches of cupcakes.


Cupcakes come from boxes, right?



What's That Supposed to Mean?

Some of you might be surprised to hear that my soul has a mouth.

(Some of you are probably less surprised.)

It's the one part of me that is sarcasm-free. No quick-quips or witty retorts or skewing of the eyes/face of any kind.

And how it's survived this long, I'll never know. Maybe the rest of my being views it as the "runt" - part of the family, but smaller, weaker, slower, quieter (my brain reads: pathetic), but still, a part of the whole. And maybe the rest of my being gives it a break out of sympathy.

Gotta love family.

Very recently, say, about 7 minutes ago, I learned two things about my "runty" soul:

1. Sometimes it's upset, and that's...o...k.
2. It longs for meaning; to be meaningful; to do/share/love/create/hold/watch/be a part of something meaningful.

I know about the Elf on the Shelf story/personality that comes to life every Christmas. Now, it has never come to life in my house, but, oh...how the young girl inside of me craves it. The simple idea of waking up to a surprise every morning lights a fire of anticipation in my eyes. And, gasp, add to that the magic of Christmas and you, my friend, have a very tall, very squeal-y, girl on your hands (me).

I think I would like to "elf" my shelves this year for my very tall, less squeal-y, boy. But I have committed to incorporating Bible verses and/or Christian Christmas carol lyrics into every day. We don't "do" Santa, but {FUN} is something I plan to squeeze the heck out of into a festive bowl, mix with the gift of our Savior and a dash of cinnamon (naturally) and enjoy every last drop.

Volunteering is also something that tugs at my heart constantly. Don't ask me about the animal shelter...well, since you brought it up. I can't go there. Like, I have a desperate need to go there...but I can't. If the shelter was looking for a volunteer "Dog Smuggler" or "Hug Them 'Til Their Eyes Pop Coordinator" or "Cryer", then I would probably have a paid corporate position by now. Want to. Can't.

The Mustard Seed thrift store has extended volunteer hours as the Christmas season approaches. The store closes, but the volunteers are invited to bring snacks to share and then get to spend a couple hours plowing head-long into Christmas itself. Box after box of puffy snowmen, twinkling lights, and proud Christmas trees, all waiting for that perfect little price tag that will make them a cheerful addition to a new home. The food and fellowship is, without a doubt, one of the best parts of each night. Eric and I used to go when he was little, and he'd play and play with the toys and games while I tackled tote after tote of lights. An evening too perfect for words.

RACKing people might also be on the To-Do list this year. It's not as illegal as it sounds: Random Acts of Christmas Kindness. You know, feeding meters, buying someone's coffee, putting $ towards someone's layaway, etc. Anything to bring some of that "little squealing girl" magic to someone else's life.

And to show my baby how to live outside himself. How blessing someone else will, inevitably, bless him. And to get my own soul to pipe-down.

Like I need more voices to listen to.

New Constant

I haven't taken a deep breath in a month.

Starting a new chapter doesn't allow for such things, not even as a footnote.

When I finally came to terms with the fact that it was never going to be an "ideal" time to move, I began the monumental task of finding a new address.

And it had to be perfect. Close to a school so I could get Eric to his class and me to work on time, but as far away as possible from the ex (the Moon is not currently taking occupants so Twin Falls was still a viable option.) And one cannot possibly forget the two other children in the Thorpe household: Gracie and GusGus. And, of course, affordability; because, let's face it, I'm not being paid to be this awesome.

And I kid you not, 3 days into my (unsuccessful) search, an opportunity was handed to me on a bedazzled platter. To make a long (but lovely) story short, the 4 of us are moving in to a house that fulfills each of the items above.

{Insert quasi-maniacal squealing and flailing of arms.}

Commence Project My-New-Digs. Which consists primarily of me trying to furnish an entire home in a matter of 3-4 weekends. No, I didn't get anything out of the divorce. No, I'm not sorry about it. Yes, I have all of Craigslist memorized.

Anyway, one rain-check, a few emails, several texts, and one very successful trip to Boise later, and I'm almost done. (May God rain down blessings on my brother and Sean for being my slaves very handsome heroes; on my mom for being all sorts of amazing; and on all of the individuals getting rid of their crap for screamin' deals.)

But above all the craziness of starting new, are the things that remain constant, which includes two very important men who, for their own reasons, want to spend time with me. And sometimes, I am allowed to spend time with them both simultaneously, when I am wearing both the more-floppy, big-flowered, less-flattering "Mom" hat and the more-sexy, mystique-inspiring, sparkly "Girlfriend" hat.

And sometimes I am afforded the opportunity to rock just one of those looks (with the exception of "mom jeans" because...oh, honey, no.) And I get to focus on one of their lives at a time. Sometimes it's ninjas; sometimes it's night-shifts; sometimes it's First Grade; sometimes it's First Friday downtown. Sometimes this, sometimes that, but always wonderful.

And so it goes. And I'm so excited to watch the beautiful melding of the "starting new" with the "always constant" to create our very own "new constant".

The other night, as Sean and I were putting together my dining table & chairs, I flopped down on my new-to-me couch. Eric came up to me in his signature camo barn boots and said, "It's like you guys are married and this is our house together and I'm the kid."

New constant? I think we're getting there.