The Proposal

 We had only been officially dating for a few days when the conversation of a wedding came up.  I was flabbergasted and told him we were NOT having this conversation because at this stage in the game, I was only supposed to dream about that and giggle about it with my friends!  We ended up having that conversation where he told me that he had figured out his intentions before he ever opened his mouth...that October Saturday afternoon in his shop.  And that when the time was right, he was going to talk to my dad.  I had always dreamed of a man with enough integrity to care what my dads thoughts and feeling were on the subject...so I now had one more thing to respect him for.  

We patiently waited for my dad to return from a trip he had taken to Montana and on Saturday November 20, 2010 ( My birthday weekend!)  We made arrangements to go to my parents for the evening.  My mom knew what was happening but my dad did not.  I took my mom downstairs and gave her a massage to leave Dana and my dad alone.  I, of course, have only gotten bits and pieces of the conversation but the most important being the part where Dana told my dad that he thought I was an amazing woman, that he loved me and that he would like his permission to marry me.  My dad's response, SURE!   

Meanwhile, my mom and I are downstairs, and I am dying!!  I want to know everything that is going on, what is being talked about and when can we come back upstairs! ??  Finally my mom hollered up and asked if we could come up.  I discovered my dad had given his blessing and we sat down and talked about some details.  

My mom was overjoyed and was very excited to start telling people.  I told her she could but not by way of Facebook that for that she had to wait!  We had a toast and Dana and I walked back down to the red house.  My mind was reeling...I had to start planning a wedding, I had to do this and do that ... we walked into the kitchen and Dana looks perplexed.  He blurts out "this is all wrong."  " What's all wrong?"  I ask.  " THIS!   You're mom wants to start telling people, we're planning but I haven't officially proposed."  I felt bad and started to hug him, assuring him that it was going to be okay.  "  I can tell my mom NOT to tell people."  I did not want to get in the way of whatever he had planned, and did not want him to feel rushed or any of that.  But then he said, "No forget it."  and he dropped down on one knee in the middle of the kitchen floor my hands in his, Alice jumping around between us and he looked at me and said "Will you marry me?"  I cried, stood up hugged him and kissed him while of course saying YES!!!  

He had not planned on proposing on the kitchen floor but when it comes right down to it, the kitchen at the red house is where much of our falling in love had taken place, so it actually was absolutely perfect.  

Mrs. Swanson...

It's been a while since I posted an entry...I've had soo many amazing emotions streaming through my mind, heart and soul, it's hard to sit down and express them in words.  I am in the process of documenting the past 9 months so I will never forget every tiny little detail of Dana and I falling in love.  The Lord has been ever so gracious, slowly revealing to us, His hand in every last part of it, and it's amazing.  I'm pretty sure words can't do it justice, you pretty much need to see the smile on our faces and the glow in our spirits to know how blessed we feel.

 

The New Tenants

Butterflies have taken up residency in my stomach and lightning bugs are in my heart.  I hadn't been looking for these new tenants, didn't even know that there was a vacancy but they've moved in and I couldn't be happier.

They moved in on October 30th and I instantly began loving how much they annoy me.  You see, they apparently don't eat much but they're really good at fooling me.  They will flit around all morning and then all of a sudden be starving so I'll start to nibble on something only to discover the butterflies weren't really hungry.  They also have very strange sleep patterns, like they DON'T.  They party all night long and while I can usually trail off into a slumber for a little while, they're back at it before the sun rises, flitting around in my belly.   The butterflies have been around before...they tend to come and go and that's okay.  I know they will leave at some point and come around less and less, but that's okay.
 It's the lightning bugs that intrigue me.  It's the lightning bugs that I'd rather have take up permanent residency.  The lightning bugs in my heart are brand new to me.  They moved in a few days later and tend to be a little quieter during the day but when they're awake and going about their business, I cannot think straight.  It's like I'm a sparkler, with tingly electrifying shocks traveling up and down my entire body and as shocking as it is, I don't ever want them to leave.

I know butterflies and lightning bugs have taken up residency in other people I know and I've also seen people when they've moved out.  I wonder if anyone has tried as hard as I plan on to get them to stay.  I want to be hospitable and a good hostess.  I wonder if that comes just by acknowledging that they're there, and special.  I don't really know but what I do know is that I'm going to enjoy ever second that I have no desire to eat and every moment that I lay awake at the wee hours of the morning and will forever be in awe of the lightning bugs that make me feel like a sparkler on the fourth of July...

The Creator has spoken...

The author of The Brazilla Gorilla Balancing Act would like to publish a retraction.
You see it has become clear to her recently that she has a pretty good memory and may have been lacking in her faith the day she posted the last entry.
Because she DOES remember how to be vulnerable and take chances...that is ultimately what brings you the most excitement.
She knows all too well how it feels to want to talk and feel like you may never run out of things to say or that feeling that if you could just think of one more thing to say you wouldn't have to turn and walk away.
And where in she's not always selfless, she tries. and has been given a measure of compassion, from the Lord that in turn, will give her patience, if she needs it.

a bicycle built for two

is it possible to forget...

forget how to love?

sometimes I think I may have forgotten how to be vulnerable 

and take chances.  

sometimes I'm afraid I have forgotten how it feels to have a conversation that you never want to end, 

a moment that you can't turn away from.

sometimes I'm certain I don't know how to be selfless enough to be in a relationship, 

compassionate enough to listen 

patient enough to wait.  

and then sometimes, I think....

it MUST be like riding a bike.  

I hope it's like riding a bike,

 you never forget.  

I hope one day I will hop on and start peddling, knowing full well that there may be fear, and it may be shaky but if I just keep on peddling, it will straighten out and I can start coasting and enjoying the ride.  

overgrown emotion

Wow, today was a doozie.
Today I had a major break down..you know, those kind where you cry and sob so hard that you're taken back to those days when you were five when you cried so hard that you couldn't catch your breath.  That was me, today.

I live in the house my grandpa built back in 1950, it's on an acre of property and I love it.  The Red House, as we like to call it, has already been the  center of many fun days, evenings, weekends.  I have a vision for what it is meant to be and how I want things to be, including the acreage.  It all has a purpose in my head.  The dilemma, the reason for the complete meltdown?  I can't do it by myself.

I work a full time job, plus some.  I commute an hour to work, and an hour home.  So that leaves, really, my days off to get anything done around the house.  Well, for the past, oh, I dunno, 3 weeks, I have been trying to break down and put away the swimming pool that we set up for summer.  I don't know if you've done that before but it's a lot more complicated than I realized.  First, I poured in some bleach then while the water is still in it, I scrubbed out the bottom and sides.  Then, you drain the water, or most of it..the rest I had to sweep out and manipulate over the sides manually.  All of this has happened on different days in different steps, based on when I have gotten home from work while it was still light out and NOT raining.  So this week I'm faced with the fact that we're probably in our last sunny days of the year and I'm desperately trying to figure out how I'm going to get all the water out of this 18 ft wide, 4ft deep pool and then get it dry so I can roll it up and store it and NOT have it all moldy next summer when we unpack it.  On top of that, my dad is awesome and has been filling his truck up with wood from some trees he took down and I have already emptied one truck load into our woodshed, and this week he has another truck load for me.   I had college community group tonight that I was overwhelmingly excited for but it was my night to bring snacks, plus as said before it's probably the last sunny day for a while and the lawn needs mowing and the rose bush needs to be tamed and the trees need to be pruned and oh, there's the tarp hanging on the swing set, I need to brush that off and fold it up, and I need to do laundry, and go to the bank, and spray the weeds.  Plus, I would like to plant some bulbs but first I need to weed the front flower beds.  Alice's kennel needs to be cleaned, and while I'm in there the garage is a mess, I need to get rid of those boxes and ...
So I'm wrestling with this huge pool.  My dad had helped me yesterday, get most of the water out, laid it out in the yard to dry.  I took towels out to sop up what little puddles of water there were and started trying to fold it up.  Mind you, this thing is huge...and I'm trying to fold it up and roll it up and tie it up, by myself.  I finally started crying, and the crying turned to sobbing and then I was in a heap, sitting on the rolled pool.  What happened next is where  I know I  lost my mind...all I could think about was how when men have houses they just seem to take care of everything, how do they do it?  The men I know, work and come home and do chores around the house all the while acting perfectly normal..and some even take care of their families after that... how do they do it?  Then I started having this discussion with myself (in my head of course)  about my independence and how, well, I'm single and I wanted to live in this house so I need to figure out how to get this all done and if men can do it I can do it....NOT.  Sorry, if you disagree, sorry if you think we're all created equal, today I disagreed.  Because this is where BEING the helpmate would be so much easier.
So in mid sob, I marched up the driveway to my mom and dads.  My dad was plunking away on the piano, I walked into the living room, eyes swollen and red (well, and black from running and smearing mascara)  and he looked at me, and I blurted out in between sobs, " I think you should sell the red house"  and then he looked at me with the love that can only be found in men that live in households with more than one woman and he did not say anything he just hugged me.  And all I remember saying, over and over was, " I just can't do it." and I rambled off the list of things in my head that needed to be done at the house and repeated, " I just can't do it by myself."  And he very matter of factly said, "well you don't have to, WE can do it"  and my response was (in another blubbering sentence)  "but you shouldn't have to"  And he said,  sure I do, I'm the man in your life right now, so we'll do it."  and then he hugged me again.  My mom came in at some point and I'm sure with the hysterics going on was sure that someone or something had died but she soon figured out what was going on and lovingly nodded as my dad explained how he could and would help.

The pool is put away, my DAD unloaded the last truckload of wood, and I feel 10 times better just by having a good cry.

I still don't know when things will get done or when I will have a yard that comes anywhere close to the one I want.  But I do know that I worry too much and what the Lord keeps trying to tell me is KNOCK IT OFF.  I have a plan and you keep fretting over it... chill out because you are loved.  Ohh yeah, what it comes down to?  I am loved.  I am loved by a very powerful God, who gave me loving parents that I so LOVE living next to and I am privileged to be living in my grandmas old house and be living with 4 very wonderful ladies, who the Lord has put specially here.  So if the grass gets a little tall, or the rose bush takes over the clothes line, so be it.  I am loved and have a blessed life.

I worry...

 22 And He said to His disciples, "For this reason I say to you, do not worry about your life, as to what you will eat ; nor for your body, as to what you will put on. 
23 "For life is more than food, and the body more than clothing. 
24 "Consider the ravens, for they neither sow nor reap ; they have no storeroom nor barn, and yet God feeds them; how much more valuable you are than the birds !


Today I had chores on my list of things to do, lately though, on my list has been worry about how I'm going to pay for the missing room mate in The Red House.  I don't intend to worry, it just happens.  In fact, I have even had to tell myself over and over again that last year when I spoke to my parents about moving into the house I knew that God would have just the right group of ladies there, all the time.  Shortly after that we went through our first transition when one of the first got married and now we are going through our second transition with another taking off on an adventure to Idaho.  This time though, we are nearing rent being due and do not have a replacement.  My worry is that I can't afford to pay both my rent and the missing rent too, or my utilities and the missing utilities.  BUT God knows that so I just ask for peace and pray for the perfect gal to come along.  


One of my chores today was to stack some firewood.  A task that I really dislike, but I'm so thankful that my dad is donating it so we'll be able to use the wood stove instead of the gas heat this winter.  The other gals were busy doing what they had to do today so I was on my own to unload the truckload of firewood.  A wonderful man I know offered to help, but I knew full well, he had his own chores to tend to so I went about unloading the firewood.  It was humid and drizzling and pretty miserable but it was also quiet.  I took the opportunity to talk to the Lord, it was casual conversation, but as usual, lately, my prayers were laced with worry...about my future.  God had 2 answers for me.  

His love and watchful eye are everywhere.  He reminded me that He loves me and that I need not worry.  

Spontaneity is not my gift...

but I love it.
Sometimes.

I love it when an uneventful evening alone turns into a room full of some of my favorite people.

Today, I came home from work and one of my room mates was making bread, it smelled soo good.
At that moment I decided I was going to make pizza.  Homemade pizza.  From scratch, dough and all.

The pizza was good, but what makes anything taste better is people to eat it and laughter to share.

NOT A HERO

When you grow up with a firefighter for a dad, there are certain things that become "the norm".  The laundry room smells like smoke when he comes home along with his hair and the soot in his ears, there is a scanner that goes off all hours of the night in the basement, Easter is about the parade and Christmas time is about being picked up by the firetruck...riding on piles of lumpy hoses and getting treats from Santa Clause.  The blue Citation had a green light, that only the volunteers got so that when their pagers went off they could travel safely to the fire station to report to the call...but what happened to the rest of us that were in the car? We waited.
Some of my favorite memories are at a young age, so he must of been in his first few years in Seattle but his shift hit most of the holidays so we had Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners at Station 2.  And at least 1 of them would be just the wives and kids because the men were called out.
Hill Park was for 3 legged races and hay stack hunts and orangecicle ice cream cups with wooden spoons (can you even call those things spoons?)  And there was the time that my dad was "command" for the weekend and I had to be at drivers ed at zero dark thirty...well, he used that little strobe thing to change the traffic light so I wasn't late (shhhh don't tell anyone) And the demented fact that my sister and I really only wanted to go with him when the radio said it was a "fully engulfed" structure fire or an injury accident.  Yeah, it's terrible and now I know that now but then all I knew is that's where most the action would be.

But it's not just the fun memories, it's the not so fond ones as well.  My dad had a home fire escape route, we all had a way out in case of fire but he would test us...yes by setting off the smoke alarms while we were sleeping, and yes, as an adult I can see where this is of benefit but it lent itself to years and years of me being a  paranoid kid that thought my house was going to burn down any day.  I would go to bed but then not be able to sleep until I checked the stove and checked the iron etc.  I remember in high school coming home to THAT look and then the dreaded sentence, "hey do you know so and so"  (insert name of someone that was just in a horrific accident that was my age that I may know)  And of course, I would much rather get that information from my dad then someone else!
As I got older a few things became more and more apparent to me and his job became more than just hunting for quarters in a pile of hay and bags full of peanuts and a tangerine on Christmas.  He was a volunteer in Snohomish but the Deputy Chief so in this small town everyone knew who he was and if you were a cute boy trying to be a firefighter you were either trying to get to know me because of that or afraid of me because of that. He was a Deputy Chief in Seattle too, and everything in between throughout the years and as I ventured out into the world discovered that the same thing goes in Seattle, although he was a much bigger deal  in Seattle the sentence would go something like this " YOUR dad is CHIEF MILLS?"  Like he had no first name or something!
My least favorite part about growing up with a firefighter for a dad was that I knew at a very early age that he may not come home.  That he may lose his life in the attempt to save someone else.
On January 5, 1995 four Seattle Fire Fighters lost their lives battling an arson fire in the Pang warehouse.  My dad knew them all and as a family we went to the memorial ceremony.  We stood with the mourning wives and mothers and children...and I selfishly thanked God it was not me as men marched down the streets playing bagpipes and hundreds upon hundreds of firefighters and firetrucks traveled through the streets of Seattle.
On September 11, 2001 my sister called early in the morning, she woke me up.. I don't even really remember the conversation, I just remember turning on the TV and staring.  In shock.  By this time my dad was not only a chief in Seattle but also a member of the Urban Search and Rescue Team through FEMA.  He had already gone across country when the Oklahoma City bombing occurred, and this was so much bigger. As we sat silently on the phone both listening to the same news channel... I knew we were both wondering what the other was afraid to ask.  Was our dad going to be asked to go?  Was our dad going to risk his life again to do his job?  The silence was broken, Nico said, "I asked dad if he was going to go."  Silence again. " He said there's a good chance."  I sobbed.  I sobbed that morning for the knowledge of what was happening there, I sobbed for the lives that were lost, and the ones that would be lost and I sobbed because I was so scared I would lose my dad this time too.
I didn't lose my dad, in fact he didn't have to go. or if you ask him he may say "get to"  because that's how it was.  My dad is retired now and he'll be the first to admit that fact.  "Hey dad did you hear about that huge fire?"  "Nope, I'm retired."

I am so proud of my dad.  I am so thankful for my dad.  I believe it takes something incredibly special in a person to sign up for and WANT to say, today I will put my life on the line for yours.  And it's not something that they turn off when they're not "on duty"  it's a way of life, it's just WHO they are.

I once told my dad that he was a hero, and he said , "No honey, I"m just doing my job."

That is what those 343 firefighters would say about 9-11.  They were just doing their job and for that we will all be forever grateful and will never forget!

My Drug of Choice

Back in February I wrote this after an amazing time I'd had for a friends blog about playing...I was reminded of it today and realized that I had never posted it on MY blog...

I didn’t laugh enough today, I can feel it in my countenance.  That’s kind of like saying I didn’t breathe enough today.  You see last weekend, God showed me , or rather reminded me, what it’s like, to laugh and play and have fun and I’ve been trying to incorporate that lesson into my everyday life.  I learned another lesson today, it’s more fun to laugh and play with some people, than others. 

Today, work started out really great, I didn’t have to be there till 8:30, I prayed most the way down there, and when I got there everyone was in a good mood, it was a great day in the making!  Well, then it started getting busy and one of the guys on the register started getting flustered, the gal leading the floor  didn’t get enough sleep last night so she wasn’t really deploying people properly and chaos began to set in.  I requested to be parked behind the espresso bar so that I could just concentrate on being fun, and trying to lift spirits but then came “ohhh I wanted that extra hot” after I had already steamed the milk, and making playful fun comments to employees to invite them to playfulness at work, only to be shut down by their bad attitude.  Then, our registers, go down which creates even more chaos.  I still tried to stay light hearted shouting out to the line that we were going old school and getting the abacus out to add up their orders… I got a few chuckles.  Now had the people I really enjoying playing with had been there, there would have been soul deep chortling going on….but not from this crowd.  And with one last ditch effort, when the registers finally came back up, I belted out a “yeeee haw” and only got strange looks from everyone. 

I sit at home now, alone, longing for that someone that makes me laugh at a day like the one I had today, laugh so that it all goes away…melts away into what WE want to laugh about and before I know it we’re giggling, chortling and loving one another and I’m ready for whatever the world has to offer, once again.

  I’m going through withdrawals…from the very thing that makes me WANT to breathe.  

Front Row Seats...

On one hand I'm utterly confused...
don't know which direction to head.
I'm sick of working retail, but have a great job.
I miss the comfort of CCLS but love CE.
My heart aches when I think of how much I will miss Tessa and Nicole but am so excited for THEM!
I'm excited about possibilities but grow weary of waiting

BUT on the other hand...
I know exactly where I'm going.
I have this anticipation in my gut as I think about the future...hope.
As I recount my life, events that have happened, realizations I've come to...
 I find myself smiling for no reason, a spunk in my step that's been gone for some time.

I may just let myself believe that the curtain is going up.
I may just have what it takes to step out on that stage and be the star of my own show.
and you may just want to sit back and watch because I have a feeling this is going to be a pretty good story.

The Ramblings of a Disgruntled Barista...

Sitting around with a group of friends from Seattle and easily at least half of them ARE currently baristas or once were.  That's what happens when you live in the pacific northwest coffee region!  For the rest of you, I thought I would compile a list of things that customers (and perhaps YOU) do that really annoy your barista....

• you come into a cafe on your phone and treat the individuals behind the counter like they're inconveniencing YOU by taking your order - seriously?  Its common courtesy 101, hang up your phone.  
• walking up to the counter, looking at the pastry case and asking, " Do you have any ________ (fill in the blank with whatever food you want but aren't currently seeing).  Nope.  Hint:  there's not a secret stash of food that only special people get to see...if we sell it, it's in the case.  
• do us all a favor and realize that you are in an area that has thousands upon thousands of coffee shops and they don't all speak the same lingo so just glance at the menu and see if the word GRANDE  is even ON the menu.  
• you're not fooling anyone when you get to the pick up counter and pretend that you've never ordered this drink before you start asking for add ons...AFTER you've paid.  Ohhh, can you add a little vanilla to that?  OR one of my personal favorites...the milk has been steamed, the drink is in the process of being poured and you ask, "ohhh did I say nonfat?"  If you didn't ... just drink the 2%, it tastes better and then you don't have to make your barista re-make your drink.  Oh but we'd be HAPPY to!!!  
• do you order a nonfat, decaf, sugar free vanilla latte?  Why?  Just ask for an ice water.  And if you insist on continuing to order this than order it by it's real name.. THE WHY BOTHER!
• I don't think you can ever convince me that by adding just a splash of regular coffee on the top of your decaf drip really makes a difference... its all in your head, and as long as YOU know that we're cool.  
• And since we're kinda on the subject, just order a split shot if you want it partially decaf, it's really annoying to pull 1/3 decaf.  Hey I'm just sayin... 
• If you want a double cup, just ask, but don't reach all the way across the counter and into my creating space and grab it yourself, it's just rude.  
• ahhhh and a little piece of advice for those older gentlemen out there, if you're 60 or older...just because the 25 year old behind the counter smiles at you, does NOT mean she wants to go for a ride on your boat...creeper.  
• REALLY?  I don't do fractions.  If it's sooo important to you that you only get 1/2 of a sweetener in your latte then you better do it yourself.  
• If we are holding a 32 ounce pitcher of milk and it sounds like a plane is taking off...we're busy steaming your milk and will be tied up for about 30-40 seconds so don't, in the middle of that, walk up and ask for a glass of ice water...ask one of the other 3 people behind the counter that aren't doing a single thing. 
• For the love of all that is holy, keep your pastries in your mouth.. I don't know how you make such an awful mess on the floor but seriously, I am pretty sure our scones don't explode... oh and by the way, there are trash cans at either entrance and also at the condiment bar... just throw your cup away..and your napkin and while you're at it your stir stick.   
• contrary to popular belief there IS NOT A DRAIN IN TH BOTTOM OF THE CONDIMENT COUNTER... if you want room in your coffee than say YES when we ask you if you want room but pouring into a trash can, is really messy.  
• Unfortunately most of us are not rainman and we can not rattle off every last caloric value of the entire menu, but when we say we can look it up, we will...don't roll your eyes at us. 
• Here in these parts, we use the measurement of LB...don't tell me how many ounces of beans you want, I'm not smart enough for that.
• A MACCHIATO DOES NOT (traditionally)  COME WITH CARAMEL IN IT.  

• think twice before lecturing your barista on how to make your cappuccino because around here, you can go into 10 different coffee shops, order 10 cappuccinos and get 10 different drinks.  So when we begin engaging with you around how much foam you'd like..just answer the question or you'll get a crappy cappuccino.  

And this is just a small list of the things that are often laughed about in the gatherings of the baristas.  And don't get me wrong, we all are fully aware that we are in the service industry.  We actually enjoy working where we work (or most of us do)  and LOVE coffee, so we'll put on a smile and do whatever you ask, and pick up after you and all of that, we get paid for it...but the less you can treat us like "the help" the better, lest beware a barista goes "flight attendant" on ya!

Canvas

You can judge me if you want, but I kinda like tattoos.  I have 3 now and a fourth one designed in my head but I've come against an issue. I'm kind of afraid that if I get this fourth one, that I won't stop.  I see people with multiple, meaningful tattoos and I think it's reeeally cool.  Like I want to ask them what they all mean and why they got them.  It's like a story book on your body.   And then there is the "what will people think"  and you can disagree with me if you want but ask anyone with multiple tattoos...people treat them differently.  For some reason, and I don't know the history of tattoo's but they carry a stigma with them that if you have one you must be a drug using, Harley riding, heathen of a freak show.  And I guess what's funny about THAT is that anymore there are more white collared, Harley riding, bible preaching freak shows!
So currently I have 3, all 3 have meaning to me, all different meaning, but meaning nonetheless.  But they are all also in areas pretty regularly covered by clothing.  The 4th has deep meaning as well but I want it on my forearm and for some reason making that decision is deciding if I want to basically change my entire persona.  If I have a visual tattoo, what will people think of me, how will people treat me differently...and the biggest question of them all, is am I finally at a point in my life where I care little enough about what other people think about me to just do what I want.
The first one I got was 17 years ago...I was 18, I walked into the Tattoo Emporium in Everett, flipped through a book and said, " I want that one. " pointing to this little green gecko.  The artist said, "where?"  " On my foot."  His face contorted.  "Nope.  I don't do that.  I can't guarantee it."  I gave in quickly.  "okay, then right here. "  I said, pointing to my abdomen.

And this is the result...

Yes it's silly and it has the least meaning of the three because really it just takes me back to the silliness of 18.  Ohh the care free silliness of 18.

The second one I got was a thought for over a year.  I knew I wanted one on the small of my back and excuse me but that was BEFORE they referred to as "tramp stamps".  Anyhew, I wanted something scrolly and pretty so I asked my sister to design something for me.  She made up several designs and in one weekend me and a friend cut and paste them onto grid paper and I drew the center, the representation of the moon and stars and ta da you have the tattoo across my back.  When my sister saw it she gasped and said she would never admit to being the one that designed it because hers were not THAT big.  I actually combined a few of what she had created to come up with the final product.

And the third one I got just this past Friday and it is one I designed last summer while in the middle of trying to figure out what was up with all the dragonflies.  And if you've been following my blog you will remember those entries (or you can go back and read them)  but basically this most recent tattoo has the most significance.  It symbolic of hope.  It is symbolic of the trust I have in the Lord, that HE is in control of that future and the reminder that he shows me in so many ways that he wants me to be free to trust his promises.

Cash Only

Back in April, maybe before that, I met with Momma Hen.  It was a vulnerable place for me because I came with bill balances and bank statements in hand, I had to finally expose this sin of mine.   I like to spend money, and at times have been known to, spend money I don't have.. thus the credit card debt.  It's a bad habit and one that I have been working diligently on NOT continuing!  I want to be debt free and because my friend, Momma Hen and her hubby had figured it out, I asked for her help.  She  got her pencil and paper and calculator and got to work.  When all was said and done, thankfully I could live comfortably and still pay off my debt in about a year.  The first step was to get $1,000 into savings and honestly that's where I got hung up.  I really thought that was impossible.  So I started the snowball thing with my credit cards, but guess what?  every month SOMETHING would come up and month after month I was/am still in debt and still NOT on a budget.  I partly kind of laugh in the face of a budget because I kind of feel like spending money is the one perk of being single (yes all of my blogs must reference my marital status..hahah just kidding)  but seriously if I can't have the perks of being married then sheesh I should be able to enjoy not having to answer to anyone about where I spend my money.  WRONG, very WRONG.  I am accountable.  And that's been made very clear in the past few months.  This past quarter, fiscally, the store I manage did very well and this week I will get the largest bonus check I have every received.   I am very excited and thankful for that!  Part of it will go in the bank to be my required savings and part of it will help with incidentals I haven't had the extra for lately.  This last Friday was my first payday of the month, I pulled out those 2 papers that Momma Hen so kindly wrote out for me and I went to the bank and pulled out my necessary cash for the first 2 weeks of the month.
 This is the result...

and I'm super excited!!!  Getting out of debt opens up a whole new realm of possibilities and I can't wait!!!

Being Wanted

I struggle with depression.  That's really no secret.  I tend to lean towards it being situational depression with some whacked out hormones thrown in there for good measure but whatever... sometimes things get pretty dark in my world.  If you've read much lately on here you'll see what I mean.  Anyway, when I get in these valleys I don't really want to do much of anything.  In fact, going to work is about all I can muster up and that's because my responsibility gene is stronger than the depression one.  And I REALLY don't want to spend time with people other than my family and reeeeally close friends.  You know, the people that will love me no matter what.  And so typically that means that I spend a lot of time  alone during these bouts.  Mainly because I am an initiator.  I am the phone caller, the plan maker, the get things going and done girl.  So when I"m down and out... well I have no social life.
A few weeks ago, a friend of mine invited me to dinner.  We had been talking about getting together for a while but it had proven to be a bit of a challenge, we no longer attend the same church and we don't really live near each other.  I accepted the invitation and it felt good.  As I was driving over there I began to cry, thinking of just how good it felt for someone to want to spend time with JUST me.  It wasn't a party that I was invited to or a gathering of a group of friends (because I attend a lot of things like that)  It was someone saying " I want YOU to come to dinner"  I had a marvelous time with her and her husband and kids, being a guest, being loved, being wanted.  

 For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

HE loves me this I know, 

HIS ways are higher than mine, 

HIS thoughts are higher than mine, 

Why do I question HIS plans? 

Why do I question HIS love? 

HE loves me, HE loves me not, 

HE LOVES ME! 

Growth

I haven't written in a really long time.  I find that I want to write but then I discover, nothing monumental has happened, I"m still in the same foul mood I was in the last time I wrote.  An un-holiday lasting a little longer than normal.  Not to say that I haven't had fun or haven't felt joy but I live my life in the state of Lonely Valley.  You may be reading this and think, well sheesh girl, make a choice, get over it.  AND those days where I experience joy and laugh and smile, those are the days I choose to climb up a brown grassy knoll to feel the Son on my face.
Last week I flew to California on a BEAUTIFUL summer day.  As we flew out of Washington I got a view of the lush greenness of our state, Mount Rainier, all the beautiful blue that surrounds us in lakes or other bodies of water.  It was breathtaking.  As we started our decent into California I could see the water but everything else was pretty brown.  Rolling brown hills, yuck.  EXCEPT for the valleys of those rolling brown hills.  In the valleys were lush green.

Why is it so hard for me to remember that if I want it, there is a tremendous amount of growth occurring in this time in the valley.  I could be the most healthy plant around the rolling brown hills...I just so quickly become weary of the loneliness and work that is required for growth.  

My very own un-holiday.

If you know me at all, you know I am not a whiner and I hardly cry...well except at corny commercials.  I know, weird.  But today on my way home, tears started to flow and they did not stop until I realized I had driven much of my 405 trip and didn't remember it so I forced myself to stop crying because if I didn't, I'd have to pull over and I wanted to get home more than I wanted to cry.  

So what spurred this outburst?  Oh well, some would say a long day at work, or PMS but really it's what I call a bad Single Day.  I don't think many people reading this can or will relate to this..because they're not 35, never been married, no kids and still single... which is part of what creates this day for me.  They come a long kind of sporadically and they don't even really have to be provoked.  They just happen.  It's a very un-holiday.  

A bad single day is when I let my life get the best of me.  When reality of where I'm at takes hold and holds me down. Today I think THIS is what happened... the sun came out and I wanted someone to spend the rest of the beautiful day with me.  Someone that WANTED to be with me.  Someone that would find something fun to do or someone that would just have fun being with me and me with, well, lets be honest...him.  And then it hits the snowball effect.  I begin to realize that one of my friends is on the other side of the state, living her life with her husband and 2 kids for a soccer tournament, another one is headed to a BBQ and after that I can only imagine that everyone has fun things going on because they didn't work all day, they're husbands or boyfriends even if they did have to work are off now and ready for an evening of fun.  And as the snowball gets bigger so do the tears and the heartache as I realize that I COULD go hang out with my single friends who all happen to be about 12 years younger than me because early 20's is the age that fits where I am in the social ladder...not that I don't enjoy hanging out with them because I love them all dearly and I know they love me.  It's just on a bad single day, it's not what I want. So as this big snowball continues down the slope then I finally decide to reach out to the very FEW people I have in my life that are in a similar place and I text, I call and no response...so now I'm back to the beginning with the confirmation that it's true, no one wants to hang out with me, no one wants to spend time with me and as I write that I feel like I should add the tag line...guess I'll go eat worms.  Because it truly sounds pathetic, kind of...but then again... the truth IS in the uneventfulness of my evening, as I sit at home alone...phone NOT ringing, no plans, empty house.   

Daddy's Girl...

I adore my dad.  I just can't help it...it's what girls do, or those of us blessed girls.  But what I've realized in this past year is that I not only adore my dad for the father he was to me, tried to be to me, wanted to be to me and IS to me but I finally get that I respect him for the man he is, for the husband he was,  and is trying to be.  You see, because he is a grown man and  yet has admitted areas that he needs to work on and has gone about changing them.  He has not chosen to be stagnant or content with where things were at, he has chosen more.  He has gone about being deliberate about his actions and what he does with his time and who he spends time with.  And lately that's been my mom...but also me when I need help at the house or with friends.    So now, I no longer just look at him with those little girl eyes and want him to throw me up on his shoulders but I look at him as a woman and recognize the characteristics of a strong Godly man!  Thank you Dad!  I love you.

confessions of a SWF

• sometimes I weep at the thought of living my entire life alone. 
• I thank the Lord often for my amazing parents. 
• at 35, single, with no kids I rarely feel like I fit in ANYWHERE. 
• my favorite candies are Bottlecaps
• I really hate my elbows
• sometimes I lay awake at night, wondering about the what ifs and could have beens. 
• I love a man that can make me laugh
• I long to experience pregnancy and be a mom 
• sometimes I just cry, and hope that if I'm going to be alone that God will send me to some far off land. 
• I really hate my elbows
• I wish I could play the guitar and sing like an angel 
• I don't freak out about recycling
• some days I'm thankful I don't have a husband, other days I just cry. 
• I can often see the character in people, even when they can't see it themselves
• I have untapped talents, I just know it. 
• I don't care how many calories are in it, I really like ranch dressing
• I would take sugar candy over chocolate most days 
• I know how to love and love others often but have only deeply loved once
• and I'm still not sure if I've recovered
• I think putting gas in my car is a huge waste of time
• at 35 I've grown to love my big beautiful bootay.  
• I have a love affair with coffee
• I dance barefoot in the rain...sometimes
• giggling is my favorite past time but I don't do it enough 
• I'm attracted to men with depth to their eyes and strength in their hands
• I can make pot roast and yorkshire pudding
• I throw things away...on a whim and then regret it later
• I secretly love me some country music in the summer
• which reminds me that I loved growing up in Snohomish
• I love, love, love the legacy of the red house 
• My mom is the strongest woman I know.
• I vow to continue growing and learning...as long as I live. 
• No matter how much pain my heart endures, I will always love.  

Perspective

This weekend God gave me some perspective about what is important in life...
I got thrown for a loop and landed in a pile of ...well let's just say I was not in a good place.

As a result I deactivated my facebook account and spent the weekend face to face with people and things I love.  I set out Saturday, early, to chew what I had bitten off.. a tough task.  I wanted to dig out my raspberries, dig out my blueberries and finish planting my garden.

Craig and Kathleen graciously offered to come over and help till up a little spot of land for my corn.  They showed up and did much more than that!  They got out of the truck, with Maggie in tow (who was more than happy to romp around with Alice all day)  and the first thing out of their mouth was, what can we do?  Oh, well I drug the rotatiller down from my dads, I just need that little patch tilled up.  Kathleen looked at me and said, well what else?  What are you working on here, as she gestured to the raspberry patch mess.  Ohh well, I'm trying to dig that out, and the blueberries.  Okay, and we got to work.  I had no idea they had planned on spending the afternoon helping me attack the monster that is my yard!  My heart did a cartwheel and I smiled the entire day.
 Of course, as I type this...I can't lift my arms above my head but it was all worth it.  The Loverbys brought their service hearts and loved me in a way that I didn't know I needed loving.

The yard has a lot of work but what I needed most that day was the love...what got accomplished was a bonus.

And I'm a quick study...I reactivated my facebook account, with a few adjustments and totally different mind set.