When it comes to taking chances with anything but my heart, I’m in. I have no qualms about bungee jumping or cliff diving or looking like a fool. I’m the all-in, go big or go home kinda girl. But ask me to put my heart on the line, to open myself up, and I’m absolutely terrified.
Two years ago I took an enormous leap of faith. I risked my heart and a deep friendship and ended up losing both: the first for a little while and the second for forever. But looking back I don’t regret it nor could I have not taken that risk and let things keeping going they way there were. I did what I needed to do in order to have no ‘what ifs’ about the situation. It hurt (sometimes it still does) but I know I’m in a better place because of it.
And now, almost two years to the date, I find myself desperately wanting to take such a risk again. To offer my heart to a man and risk him rejecting it. To make myself, gulp, vulnerable. To say, “I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.” There’s a lot on the line, not the least of which is a pretty good friendship. I think my gut is telling me there is something between us but I’m not sure it’s my instincts of just wishful thinking.
Why can’t I just pass a note that says ‘check yes or no’?
Yesterday I celebrated my
decent into spinsterhood 35th birthday. The day, to put it bluntly, sucked. I won’t go into detail, let’s just say I’ve had better day. Today sucks to. However, I would be remiss if I didn’t post my annual “note to self” about what my favorites are at this point in time. Some change from year to year, others are steadfast companions.
blue * baseball * Hawaii * fall * family & friends * Lucky Brand accessories * full moons * babies * Kindle * Discovery of Witches * spiced cider * curly hair * Crystal Light raspberry Ice * Sheryl Crow * Paradise Bakery * thunderstorms * rain * leather * mountains * surfing * Kings of Leon * stars * boots * pearls * softball * Pinterest * glass jars * Harry Potter * anything vintage * pumpkin-flavored anything * clocks * fall leaves * Tetons * kayaking * farmhouses
On my recent 18-day vacation to the homeland (read: Wyoming), I indulged in the reading of several western “romances” to pass the time. (I say “romances” ’cause the books were borrowed from my granny and were either LDS or Christian novels so romance was confined to “smoldering looks” across the fire.) What really stuck out in my mind was the limited amount of personal possessions people had way back when. Now, I’m not a novice to the old west, but I’m always taken aback when I read about a woman’s excitement with getting a new dress so she now has three to wear. Then I feel guilty thinking of my chock-full closet of which I wear maybe 10% of the clothes. People had so little and were relatively happy.
My thought is because they didn’t know any better. Well, perhaps better is the wrong word. Differently would be more appropriate. There were no glossy magazines, no television or movies, no million-dollar homes and Targets and Walmarts on every corner. There wasn’t the excess of worldly goods that plaques our society today. The Jones were, more than likely, just simple country-folk who didn’t care if anyone kept up with them.
How I would love to live such a simple, honest life. Unfortunately, despite my country upbringing, I’ve come of age in the consumer age. My senses have been inundated with pretty, sparkly things that I covet. I wouldn’t know how in the world to survive on so little. But what if I were to try?
My family lives in a small, beautiful, rural valley. There is no Walmart or Target for more than a hundred miles. While there, I had limited Internet time and really no shopping. And I saved a lot of money. But, the more important thing was that I wasn’t missing what consumer goods were out there because I wasn’t exposed to them. I was happy and content in my little corner of the world. I’m sure, if I were to have stayed, the vacation haze would have burned off eventually. But perhaps my limit of exposure to stuff would have led to a more simple life; a more down-home, homemade existence.
And that’s what I want.
* Entering the theater to see Cars 2 on Saturday morning, I saw this movie poster:
As soon as we got home, I Googled and found the website and trailer. I’m already enchanted with this film and it doesn’t come out for another year (June 22, 2012). Oh, and Billy Connolly (the father on The Boondock Saints) is the voice of the king. I swoon at his Scottish accent.
* Have you been on Pinterest? Are you addicted? I am.
* After several marathon reading sessions during which I completely ignored my school work, I finished A Discovery of Witches. Amazing book. Entertainment Weekly called it “Twilight for the tweedy set” and I can see that. I love, and I mean love, the history and science in the book. It will be interesting to see how the author moves the trilogy forward in book two.
* I broke down and bought a Kindle. I love it. And I’m going to go broke purchasing ebooks for the darn device. I also want this Kate Spade cover but can’t quite -at all- bring myself to pay the $85 for it.
* You know how, every once in a while, you find the perfect bag? The bag you could have designed yourself? I found mine last weekend at Dillard’s. The Fossil Hathaway tote in Marine.
*I’m seriously considering taking Soul Restoration 1 presented by the Brave Girls Club. It looks like an amazing class to help me refocus, regroup and rededicate.
* Speaking of the soul, I saw Soul Surfer at the urging of the receptionist at my PT office and loved it. Very inspirational (which was exactly what I needed at the moment when I was frustrated with my ankle and PT and thinking it -the ankle- would never bend again). It comes out on DVD August 2nd, I believe.
I think that’s enough randomness. For today, anyway.
Eight weeks ago tonight I was in the ER, alone, deathly afraid the doctor was going to tell me my ankle was broken. Looking back now, I really wish it had been broken. The amount of damage I did to my poor ankle was astounding…even my physical therapist said I would have been better off with a break.
Eight weeks, two crutches, 100+ ice packings, two prescriptions of percocet, two ACE bandages, six compression socks, one insanely complicated brace, 18 hours of physical therapy and countless bad words later, I’m playing softball again. I’m climbing and descending stairs without almost pulling the railing off the wall. I’m able to move and step and even jog a little. I only have two PT sessions left.
After tonight’s game, there was no pain. I even made it to first base twice before calling in a runner. Big accomplishment.
Tomorrow starts the grueling process of getting back into semi-shape. I’m not even talking about really loosing weight…just getting back to the level of fitness I was at before I destroyed my ankle and was
dormant sedentary for two months and consumed whatever I wanted. I can ride the bike and use the elliptical and I’m hoping (fingers crossed) that my PT will clear me to use the treadmill for sprints (my little “jogs” to first base tonight really brought home how much speed I’ve lost). And this is just in time, too, considering my 17 day trip to Wyoming (which includes backpacking and climbing and kayaking and golfing) is only four weeks away. This is it…the time for hesitation is through. It’s all in, put up or shut up, go big or go home time.
Good thing there’s still a few percocets left.
Just as I was perfecting using my crutches to swat small
children animals out of my way and goose hot guys in the grocery store, my physical therapist has announced that I am now fit to walk unassisted. This should be met with singing and dancing and inordinate amounts of clapping (and it was) but it also makes me nervous. For example, the crutch(es) were a rubber and metal sign to all I came in contact with that there was a serious injury somewhere on my person and that caution was to be used when approaching me. Now that I’m just limping along, no one stops to think twice before bumping into me (causing me to lose my balance, put weight on my bad ankle and use words for which I would have had my mouth washed out with Irish Spring 25 years ago) or dropping a binder (3-inch, fully loaded) on my foot. And it is these poor souls who have to incur my wrath. Or tears. Or voodoo.
Other lessons I’ve learned in the last 2 1/2 weeks?
- Getting in and out of the bath tub/shower should be an Olympic sport.
- Finding flat shoes that actually support your feet and are not hideous is nigh to impossible.
- A whole percocet makes my lips feel plump and makes me dream about really big spiders.
- BIOFREEZE is a girl’s best friend.
And last but not least:
- As sad as it may be, most of the people you think you can count on, you can’t. When push comes to shove, people are too involved in their own lives to call, text, visit or offer help. It’s the one person (Erin) who you have always been able to count on who drops everything to help and makes you realize that sometimes you need to let go of those who can’t return all the love you’ve given to them when it is so desperately needed.
The color blue makes me happy. It makes me think of clear mountain skies and tropical beaches and denim…three of my favorite things. My favorite car, Bella Beetle (named long before Twilight) was blue. The day before The Incident (below), I painted my toenails ‘beach bum blue.’ I have blue eyes. (Okay, I can’t claim that I had a whole lot to do with that last one.)
So…I love blue.
And this spring, Anthropologie was kind enough to include that wonderful color in their kitchen accessories. Such as:
Colanders and berry baskets (ceramic…mine sits on the kitchen sink and holds sponges) and utensil crocks and spice jars. (Yes, I know I need
some a lot of work in making photo collages.)
And they have a rug, this rug, that is meant for a bathroom but that I truly think would look just as good in my kitchen.
Speaking of beaches and beach bums, check out this cottage. It’s lust-worthy!
And just as I was getting ready to publish this post, I received an email from See Jane Work. It’s no secret that I love all things office-school supply related, so I subscribe to their newsletter. But check out their featured desk this month:
I do believe it’s a sign.