There’s kind of a strange thing happening around here. By here, I mean me. I’m going to use a lengthy metaphor here, so I hope I don’t lose you. Not that I think I would lose you, I know you’re all very smart folks and things like metaphors aren’t necessarily that complicated. But really… it’s lengthy.

So, you’ve heard the phrase, “when God closes a door, another one opens.” Right? Well, I’ve been pacing around a windowless, doorless room for about two and a half years. I keep assuming a door or window would appear and i’d casually run for my life out of the door. It kept not happening. A week ago today, I had some friends pray for me. I was at the end of my windowless,doorless room rope and I needed some back up. And wouldn’t you know it, a door appeared on Tuesday. Out of the blue. The door is still shut, or maybe open a crack, but there’s a door. Wednesday, it opened just a crack more. Thursday, a window opened wide up. But there’s this door still. And I’m awfully interested in this door. But the window. GUYS? The window seems like so much fun too.

So basically I’m trying to figure out if I can squeeze through the window, or if I should take my chances on this door.

Speaking in code wears me out.



Yesterday I was chatting with my extremely talented friend Lillian who has taken all my headshots (like I’m sooo glamorous) and I mentioned to her that I probably need new pictures since my face is so much slimmer now. That’s kind of an excellent problem to have, right? So that got me thinking that I should try to weigh myself.

I have been working really hard on being healthy. You know this if you regularly read this blog, or follow me on twitter, or are facebook friends with me… or real life friends also, I suppose. I’ve cut out some of my favorite things to eat and drink (Dr. Pepper), I’ve starting eating things that were never on my radar before this year (quinoa and kale), and it’s been a struggle on and off. There were a few days tucked in there in which I hated the whole process.

But here’s the thing. Last night I weighed myself for the first time in months. TWENTY TWO POUNDS, I have lost. You guys! TWENTY TWO! Can you even believe that?

It was such a fun surprise to see that I’d lost that much weight, because honestly losing weight wasn’t my goal. Of course I would have welcomed that side effect, but being healthy was what I was after. I wanted to be in control of what I was eating and not letting that junk control me. I wanted to be able to see an ice cold fountain Dr. Pepper in front of me, and choose water instead. I wanted control of my own life. I didn’t want my own irrational eating patterns to tell my body to stop functioning properly. I was sick of being dictated by my food choices.

If you have never had an issue with overeating, emotional eating, weight and self-image, etc…. that whole former paragraph probably seems like an exaggeration. But I really do mean all of that. It was out of control. Absolutely out of control. I work with a health coach who has been great. Just the right amount of encouragement and push. This is going to sound like a PSA, I’m warning you, but if you feel like you’re not in control of your food like you think you should be, I really recommend Eleanor Haddad. She has helped me change the way I feel about food, the way I understand food, and the way I feel and understand myself. That’s a big deal, no? Also, TWENTY TWO POUNDS. Gone.


There’s a fine line between obsessing over something that may be unhealthy, and allowing yourself to think about that something. I went a long time in my life assuming that any negative feelings I may have had were automatically bad and should be ignored. This was all me, by the way, it’s not something my family does that has scarred me for life. My mom is so great at saying, “hey, I noticed you don’t seem like yourself. Is something going on?” It’s one of her greatest traits, in my opinion. But I still always had an overpowering urge to stifle any hurt or sadness. Turns out, that’s not always healthy. Who’d have thought? I’m still learning this, slowly but surely.

One of those things that I still have an urge to totally ignore is my infertility. I’m trying to find the balance between obsessing day and night over the fact or ignoring it completely, letting it fall to the back of my mind. I like not being reminded of it at every moment. I really like hanging out with the wonderful neighbor kids without thinking, “why can’t I have sweet kids like this?” And I like feeling… normal (in my mind there exists this magical thing of ‘normal’ that I don’t quite understand, but it really seems exciting) most of the time.

And then I have moments where I think, “as soon as I get pregnant, I’m going to throw a huge party and I’m going to decorate it like this, and have this type of cake, and we’re going to announce it like this…” and my mind goes to a really exciting and hopeful place, if I’m doing the thinking right. If I’m not doing it right, I watch a movie about a woman who has a baby and I’m in a funk for three days because it just hasn’t happened yet and that makes me really sad. So what’s the difference? I’ve got no clue.

So, in the excited and hopeful stage I’m in right now, I am mentally planning the big announcement party that I throw when Dave and I find out we’re going to have a baby. This could be four years from now, but I’m still excited. And I really feel like that’s an ok place for me to be. I could be wrong, of course. I’ve been wrong about my own mental health many times before. That’s surprising isn’t it?!

I’m excited that I might someday be able to sit down with a friend and say, “hey guess what. I’m going to have a baby.” And I’m excited that someday I’ll be able to sit with a friend going through something as painful as infertility and say, “I know exactly how you feel. I’m here for you.” And I’m excited that I can someday sit with my child, whether natural birth or adoption take place, and say, “do you know what? I wanted you SO much. More that you will ever understand, and I waited and waited for you to get here because I already had a heart filled up with love for you before you were even born.”

And if that’s not the healthy kind of thinking, I’m not sure what is.

Maybe Pajamas are the Problem

I have no internet at home these days because I’m not what you would call “a smart shopper” when it comes to things like that and I have no interest in shopping for the best prices and service. I much prefer hitting up the clearance racks at Gap and buying red corduroy pants and the most beautiful skirt and top in all the land. But no internet sort of makes my blogging schedule a little sporadic (as you may have noticed). Until I can learn to type entire blog posts from my iPhone, or AT&T implements a clearance rack for internet services, I’m stuck to disorganized updates.

Sometimes I like to imagine that I’m the type of gal who will go sit at the coffee shop three nights a week, tiptapping on my laptop and getting things accomplished. Then I think, “I don’t wear dresses often enough to be that type of gal,” or I think, “they’re probably just playing Farmville or something and pretending to work.” So, you know, I don’t go.

Last night when I got home from work, there was a package waiting for me. Contents: all my free time for the rest of forever. Mario All Stars, Super Mario Kart, Donkey Kong, etc. So yes, I changed into comfy clothes and sat down on the living room floor and did this for 2 hours.

It’s hard to sit on the floor in a dress. So, it makes sense to me that if I had more dresses, I would blog more. Right?

Phone Fun

There’s an app I was recently turned on to called Adobe Ideas and it is changing the way I use my phone. It’s no longer just a facebook and twitter machine. It’s also an art machine. Or “art” maybe is more accurate. If it’s in quotes, it’s less commital.
Ok, and seriously, if this doesn’t make you laugh, the 45 minutes I spent creating it were a giant waste.

Irrational Fears

As time goes on, I begin to realize that things I’m afraid of aren’t the same things other people are afraid of. The incident that got me thinking about all of this was a couple days ago outside one of our favorite burrito places. Dave saw a concrete flower box and decided he needed to jump onto it from a stand still without using his hands. It was about thigh-high I would guess. The first time he jumped, he barely touched it with one hand. Tried again, used his hands again. Third time, SLAM. One shin busted open.


Well, the whole time Dave was practicing his feat of daredevilry, I was standing back with my hands on my face, shaking my head no. It was as if I was watching him bungee jump without an actual bungee. I was scared to death. For good reason obviously, as he now has a big gash and a knot the size of a ping pong ball on his leg. (Though I have a lovely cell phone picture of it, I’ll spare you the sight.) But for the most part, my “oh no. This is not going to end well. This is a disaster; we’re all going to die because you’re doing that” instincts are incorrect.

Here are somethings you probably didn’t know about me: I’m afraid to wear headphones in public because it makes it easier for people to sneak up on me. Sometimes when I get in the elevator, I stand in the very corner facing out because I’m afraid I somehow got into the elevator without seeing someone and they’ll startle me when I realize they were in there after all. I cannot be in a pitch black room with other people because they might bump into me or worse… THEY WILL SNEAK UP ON ME. Do you see a trend here? What’s the deal? Was I snuck up on a lot as a child?

Wishy Washy

For the life of me, I cannot make up my mind. I have a favorite… but I just can’t decide.
Which of these do you like better?

These two little guys are header ideas for my new blog! You can see in the first one that I’m planning on featuring “lovely things, art, and d.i.y.” and I’m excited! I’ve got quite a bit of tinkering to do before I really pass along the link, but better to be prepared, right?
So what do you think? Do you like those dreamy pastels, or the bow?