Drawing to a Close

Yesterday I spent the morning and early afternoon with Lewis and his mama in Jersey City. We had a wonderful time catching up and simply being together.

We shared some wonderful goodies from Whole Foods: beets and broccoli and something called Energy Salad with peanuts, bean sprouts and raisins. Liisa was raised in Finland, where her parents still live, so her knowledge of amazing cheeses is much better than mine. We snacked on crusty breads and stinky cheese before enjoying the 50 degree weather.

We walked along the river while Lewis napped enjoying the sunshine and the last days of 2011. Before I knew it, it was already 4:00pm and I needed to head back into Manhattan.

I love my visits to Jersey, though. They make me feel rested and well and it's nice to be in the company of such wonderful people as The Mercks.

...

Today is the last day of 2011. When I get off the couch from typing this post, the sun still not really quite up yet, I will trot off to the gym and crank out one last hard, sweaty workout. After lunging and pushing and pumping along to the music playing from my iPod I'll head back home.

On a somewhat unrelated topic, I think I am the only person who cries at the gym. Yesterday, pumping my legs on the stationary bike along to Tim Suel (who is one of the music ministers at this church my sisters attended during college- I think?) I got lost in the words and emotion overwhelmed me. I'm the person that mouths the lyrics while doing cardio, and on the bike I use the handle bars as drums. As if you doubted...Anyway, his songs are so powerful and the lyrics just hit me. Maybe I just needed it.

But that is not it, the day before in yoga, just sitting still was enough for me to get weepy. This is when I know I need to slow down. The instructor asked up to picture a sunset/ sunrise that we had seen at some point in the past and I thought of a time while driving through Cody, Wyoming the summer before we moved to NYC. We were traveling with the Stockhammers and the sunset was breathtaking. We pulled the car over and just sat there and watched. We opened the doors and tried to capture it with our cameras, but the photos I have do the massive, vast landscape no justice. It was a big sunset.

God talks to me at the gym. When I'm listening, I guess. When I'm singing along to Madonna's Ray of Light, probably not so much. But I do think God can speak through non-Christian music and art and books.... Just probably not Lady Gaga's Born this Way.... But Dave Matthews- YES!

....

So back to TODAY-

After gyming it I have a 12:00 appointment with Coco for a haircut on 10th Street and Avenue A. I love the East Village and haven't been down there in awhile. So after my newly shaped and trimmed hairdo (no bangs guy- I just can't commit to that!), I plan on sitting at Angelica Kitchen for some delicious vegan foods and journaling. It's a simple place and I could use some simplicity today.

That is really all I have on the agenda. Oh, and I may buy some new pens though- for journaling. And maybe do a load of laundry... (I know the excitement abounds in this New Yorkers life.) No New Year's Eve parties. I will not ring in the New Year with blow horns and party hats and bottles of Champagne (although someone at work gave me a bottle as a Christmas gift...)

Chris preaches tomorrow at our church, so we'll turn in early. There is only one service and the rumor is there will be about forty people in attendance. I think there will be more. We shall see.

After church the current plan is to go ice skating at Bryant Park with the youth group. Again, we shall see.

Happy 2012. Reflect. Resolve. Renew.

XO

Stef

I could. And I will!!

I have ample time to write right now. In a office where 90% of the staff are off this week I could be sharing so many stories with you. But I've been reading and journaling and surfing the internet.

I've discovered Pinterest which is highly motivational and inspiring.

....

Our Christmas Even and Christmas day were really non-traditional in that Chris and I spent the days just the two of us, together, apart from our family. We both sang in the Christmas Eve Service at our church and attended a Christmas Day service at Saint Thomas's on Fifth Avenue. Sunday morning we exchanged smallish gifts while eating a big breakfast that I made of bacon, eggs and toast. We visited the tree at Rockefeller Center,walked through Central Park and ate a late dinner out on Christmas Day. Very New York.

I've been trying to rest well and reflect as the years end draws closer. I've been seeking to be purposeful in my words and reactions and how I spend my time outside of work. Even now, as we inch closer to January 1st, I don't feel like I have to wait until midnight to get motivated to change. And motivation is not really what I'm looking for but naming those desires that remain vague most of the time.

In 2012 I could become a mother.
I could plant a garden.
I could quit my job.
I could start my own business.
I could drink more tea and less coffee.
I could climb a mountain.
I could learn how to sew.
I could move across the street, across the country, across the globe.
I could volunteer with teenage mothers.
I could read the Bible in a year.
I could admit when I'm wrong and apologize quickly.
I could stop thinking that I'm just a kid with nothing to offer.

I could embrace my curves, my accent, my love of simple things.

I could go for it.
BIG TIME.

What do you want? What do you want to see/ experience/ have/ do?
And why aren't you?

And a Partridge in a Pear Tree (whew..........)

Two Calling Birds

Three French Hens

Christmas in New York City has really made me realize the materialism that abounds here, not only in NYC, but in our country as a whole. We are always needing something else, wanting more and having to get some other version of something we probably already own.

Walking along Fifth Avenue passing shop after boutique after designer label clothing store depresses me. I want to scream to the person who just bought a $1,200 hand bag that she is wrong. I want to tell the man who bought a tie for the upwards of $150, "you are completely insane." Seriously. And it's not because I'm jealous, or want hundreds of thousands of dollars, I just don't understand spending money for the sake of spending money, when $20 would provide someone in another country clean drinking water for twenty years. I don't understand, and I don't know how I can evoke change- but I'm trying.

I guess that is one thing that being in NYC during Christmas has revealed to me.

The second is that we really don't have room for decorations or a tree or a all those snowmen platters or holiday dishes. Since moving to New York we purchased a tree one year out of our five Christmases. And it was a potted tree, more like a plant really. This doesn't depress me, it's just how it is. And I don't see the point in more stuff and more things when I feel so wealthy already. Wood, Hay and Straw my friends.

The third thing we've had to get used to in NYC, is giving money to our doormen for Christmas. I'm talking cold hard cash, because that is what they expect. I can not simply make a tray of holiday cookies, or buy a Christmas gift basket with cheeses and crackers and jams and such- they only take money in a Christmas card. I realize following my previous post about giving, you'd think that I'd be more on board with this idea. More generous. BUT, it's so hard!!! Because there are anywhere from 8-12 doormen and at at least $20 a person, if not more, this really adds up.

I think it upsets me too because I don't buy gifts for my own family (back in Texas) or close friends, but I have to figure out who Adrian and Arturo are so that I can get them their Christmas card. (Which they expect...) On a daily basis I don't even see all the doormen or porters- Oh, God help me have a more giving heart and not be so selfish.

That's my three. Three NYC Christmas norms that still don't seem quite so normal to me.

Four Calling Birds

Last night I called my mama while I did a load of laundry and painted my fingernails. I realize that these things seem to conflict; how can one sort, load, and unload washers and driers with wet fingernails? How can a person talk on a cell phone while painting her nails? Well, I did it, pretty well I might add.

I’ve never been a big phone talker. Except in my dating days, I guess. Spending hours at fifteen and sixteen and seventeen “breathing into the phone” as my dad would say. I just rather talk to you face-to-face. Or write a letter or email. Catching up over the phone is just awkward and talking on the phone to people I see every other day is unnecessary. I’m sure I do things daily that keep me from being present, but the idea of talking on the phone to someone I’ll see tomorrow just bores me.

Talking to family that I see once a year is different though. I should be more proactive in calling my sisters and mom & dad. Sometimes though, I just don’t know where to start. With what happened today? Yesterday? The biggest news of the month? And if I do have a free fifteen minutes or so and I don’t reach my mom, then I’m usually pretty bad about trying to call back. Until the next week, when it crosses my mind again.

I’m probably most comfortable on the phone with my mama. We talk about life in general: church, school, work, health issues, recipes, what’s going on in the lives of my siblings. I would dare say I actually LIKE talking on the phone with my mama. I’m pretty sure I go into another time and place and can simply be myself.

Five Golden Rings

The city is still humming and the Salvation Army bell is still ringing- at each and every entrance to Grand Central Station. But this morning as I approached the Helmsley Hotel on my walk west on 42nd Street, the sidewalks were still. These “city sidewalks” were not “busy sidewalks” at 8:00AM this morning as Bing Crosby and Carole Richards crooned.

This is the golden season- these are the days when many New Yorkers head out of town, and the holiday crowds are dwindling, though ever present. Then there are those of us who still remain. The commute is quieter, the bus less crowded, and there is enough room on the subway platform for me and my two oversized tote-bags. Strapped to my back I have my sneakers and my gym clothes, my Tupperware that carried my lunch, an umbrella and a bottle of wine that I received as a Christmas gift from someone at work.

Our office overflows with cheesecakes and wine (literally cases of wine) and baked goods. We’ve received Godiva gift baskets, Ms. Fields cookie tins and some, really cheap gift boxes with things like pretzels, cheese that can be kept at room temperature(?), stale nuts and shortbread cookies. One of my favorite things is the package that has European chocolates, teas and biscuits for all the chaps from the UK around here. All of this from clients and brokers; General Contractors who want our business. It is fun & nice, despite the constant looming of sugar and buttery things all day every day.

I think I’ve been gifted at least six bottles of wine. And I’ve put away a few goodies for later. It’s overwhelming to see all those candies and cookies and dried fruits. So, I just use my lunch baggies (after I’ve eaten the carrot sticks or crackers) and fill them with things I’d like to have later. If you snooze you lose around here, but I don’t want to simply gorge myself just so I can partake. I threw a oatmeal raisin cookie in the freezer for next week and I have a 85% dark chocolate bar in my desk drawer.

I'm not too upset when we receive gift baskets of pretty cookies (shown here) that probably taste like crap. These are *probably* stale Italian cookies that look more festive than they taste, do not entice me whatsoever. I learned my lesson as a young child that the sprinkle covered doughnut tastes the worst. Honestly, I'd like a few more baskets like this- ones that don't make me salivate.


I will be working next week. The phone will ring very little. And hopefully I can sit, read, and enjoy some down time without feeling bitter anxious and watching the clock as I think about how everybody is off work except for me.

Six Geese-a-Laying

I'm embarrassed to admit that in the past week I have purchased six new chapsticks/ lip glosses. That's right, the search for the perfect subtle, feminine lip shade got a little out of control. And it usually happens like this. And somehow all the lipsticks I own are all the same exact shade... Somehow.


So, I thought I'd give gloss a try. Even though in the past I've disliked the lack of shine, the stickiness and the way, for some reason, it always turns pink (and I mean PINK) on my lips.

First, I bought Burts Bees lip shimmer in Nutmeg(1), which was more like a tinted chapstick.

Then, a day later, Burts Bees tinted lip balm in Red Dahlia (2). I found both of these just as described- like tinted chapstick. I really like these two, but they are not as much color as I am used to wearing, but they will be in the rotation all winter.

Then, my beauty editor friend suggested liquid lip smackers sheer lip gloss in Dr. Pepper (3) flavor. She shared how it was "all the rage" when it arrived in her publications offices. It's affordable, glossy, and tastes great. I thought it was just okay. It wears off super quickly.

So why wouldn't I buy (for just $1.99) another lip gloss called Ice Angel (4) by a cosmetic company named Black Radiance when I was at Rite Aid looking for candies and treats and stocking-stuffer-type things to mail to my friend who is living in London right now? I'm pretty sure it's a line of makeup for women of color-- but this shade has made me quite happy. It's a dark gold/ brown shade and very shiny. However it's a little bit MORE color than I'd like.

So.... at CVS I purchased Maybelline Shinesational lip gloss in Berry Dazzle (5) when I spotted it in the 75%off basket on the cosmetics aisle. This one is my favorite gloss thus far. Shine, shimmer, a hint of color and sparkle!

I'm considering returning the Sally Hansen Lip Inflation Plumping Treatment (6) that I paid way too much for ($7.00+). It sounds quite intriguing though. The marketing alone has piqued my interest!!

Seven Swans-a-Swimming

My head has been swimming all morning. Well, since about 9:03AM when I was spoken at and not to. When I was told "I want" and "You will" and told to "not change the subject" when I tried to inquire why or how or where this entire conversation was coming from.

Some people are extremely hard to communicate with. Work with. Deal with day in and day out.

My head immediately began throbbing, my ears burning and all I wanted to do was pick up my purse and walk out the door. Even now, hours later I'm physically affected by the emotional bullying that I have to deal with... eight hours a day, five days a week. This person is just mean. Period. To anyone at any given time- you might be the next victim in the attack. I doesn't matter who you are or what you know; she has more knowledge and a better way to do any given thing. You are dumb. End of discussion.

I just hate being talked to like a ten year old. Like a child. Like an invalid. Like someone not qualified to do the job I do--- and do it well for that matter. I do not bark commands at people, I ask. I talk to people. I inquire. And it's hard being pushed around. It's not even every day, but you never know when it might just come tumbling down on you.

I wonder if it's because she ate an entire pint of Ben and Jerry's last night and feels guilty. Did her sister call and yell at her this morning on the phone? Man troubles? Did she forget her medication? Or is she just a black soul, selfish and vile and full of hate. I think she's never been loved well. She's never been taught or shown or believed in anything outside of what she can see and touch.

It's really a sad thing, and I shouldn't take it personally, because it's not- but today is a one of those days when enough is enough. I'd rather be jobless than have to face this face ever again.

Eight Maids-a-Milking

Sunday. Whew....

I broke my own "three things a day" rule today and did about eight...

1. Youth Sunday School

2. Church

3. Lunch out with the youth (one of the girls is moving to LA over Christmas break)

4. Food Emporium (for eggs)

5. CVS & Health Nuts (for hand soap and Almond Milk)

6. The Gym...

7. Home again to: cook up my foods for the week &

8. Finally clean the bathroom (really, really well)

I hate cleaning the shower. I think I hate it so much because I think the bathroom just has to be the nastiest room in the home, and I feel as if I need to spend hours with scrubbers and sponges and bleach and brushes getting every piece of mold or mildew and each tiny hair off the side of the toilet bowl. But I don't really even want to spend five minutes in there. Around that slimy drain.... Disgusting.

So I bargained with myself. I opted to clean the toilet, sink, mirror, floor and baseboards tonight & get to the shower tomorrow night. This left me with time this evening to chop cabbage and onions and make couscous.

...

At Health Nuts this afternoon I discovered a wonderful Stash Tea called Christmas Eve and it is simply delicious on this 20-something degree night. It is the perfect blend of orange, cinnamon, vanilla and spearmint. And at CVS, in addition to hand soap, which is what the initial trip to the drug store was for, I spent $19.00. BUT, I had a 25% off your entire purchase coupon which makes it alright, right? Toilet paper, Diet Ginger Ale, a can of Campbell's Tomato soup & a couple of nail polishes later (they were 75% off....1.99 plus the coupon... who could resist that??) Of course they are lovely shades of Thinking of Blue and Uptempo Plum. Completely work appropriate.

...

I'm looking forward to a *hopefully* slow work week. I'm hoping most everyone is on vacation, if not this week then next, or both. Because I am not. And I want to read my book and write in my journal! We are opened every day this week, closing at 4:00pm on Friday (really, that is what you consider early?!)

Chris and I will spend our fifth Christmas in New York City, in our tiny loft apartment. We will be singing in the Christmas Eve service on Saturday night and maybe have dinner or wine with the friends that are spending Christmas here as well.

I've mailed all my cards, bought the few gifts that I will buy and have my cinnamon scented candle lit. I'm ready. I've listed to Jewel, Harry, Mariah and Elvis. I've watched Miracle on 34th Street and The Office Christmas episode. I painted my toenails something called Star-Ring the Rockettes. It's very pink and sparkly and full of holiday cheer.

Unfortunately, no-one will be seeing my toenails as my second toe's toenail finally fell off and it is completely bare. This looks really odd because my second toe is my longest toe and it just sticks out there like a bare stalk; like a flowerless stem in a row of pink tulips. I stumped it severely in a middle of the night bathroom trek, going back up the stairs about a month ago. It was tragic and bloody and I cried so hard I laughed just to keep from crying even more. Chris thought I was in shock. Maybe I was.

Maybe by spring I'll have part of a toenail.

Nine Ladies Dancing

There were only six of us, and we were not dancing, but yesterday I got together with some sweet ladies to celebrate a birthday.

We met for brunch at 2:00pm at a place called The Sunburnt Calf on the Upper West Side. Brunch is a big-time-Saturday-deal in NYC. It's a big time deal at this specific place because for just $18 one can get a huge plate of pancakes, an omelet, a burger and fries and drink as many bloody Mary's as they would like- in two hours. I personally think 2:00 is more like a late lunch (trust me--- I ate breakfast way earlier in the day) but that was the earliest reservation available. Brunch implies a meal between breakfast and lunch.... but whatever. Most NYC restaurants serve "brunch" between 11-4.... , so maybe I'm the only person that this bothers.

We celebrated the 34 years of our sweet friend Jen, who in the last year has transformed in so many ways. Most obviously is that fact that she's lost 50 pounds and shared with many of us her journey along the way. She's had difficult conversations with family members she'd never thought she could have. She went back to college, took a different position at her job, and got a tattoo. And it's a beautiful tattoo--- not that I'm biased or anything. She actually sat with me during my last massive inking and decided to get a tattoo at that point. So she did---- by my tattoo artist, that very week.

Jen has learned how to feed her body, listen for when it says she's hungry and when she's not. She's learned that food can not fix sadness or loneliness or just sheer boredom. She ran her firt 5k in her 33rd year and bought the smallest pants size she's ever worn. And along this road, she's encouraged and inspired and been brutally honest and completely vulnerable. Emailing prayer requested, asking for accountability, working really hard to climb out of the heaviness and self-loathing that years of lies and bullying and fear can bring.

...

For two hours we talked, ate some wonderful foods and celebrated together. At 4:00pm when we parted ways on 79th Street and Broadway I was grateful that I can call this amazing person friend. That she's living it out, and not just talking it, but BEing it.

At 4:00 darkness was minutes away and the coldness was creeping up my tights. I just wore a pea-coat and left the pouffy, sleepingbag monster at home- but decided right then and there that heavy coat weather had arrived.

I like the Upper West side, and I'd have liked to wander a little more that I did, but I simply made a trip to Zabars with Liisa, while Jen and another gal headed to H&M to look for a Christmas Eve outfit. I bought some kitchen gadgets and a few food items: good olive oil, raw honey, imported cheese and some Borscht soup for dinner.

And that's okay. It's what I wanted to do.

Being in your 30's you realize that you spent most of your 20's trying to figure out who you were, what you wanted and how to be liked. In my 30's I've figured out who I am (somewhat), what I want, and that being like by everyone all the time is simply impossible. People will like me (my true friends anyway) when I am Who I Am.

Ten Lords-a-Leaping

There's a leaping in my stomach. A fluttering in my tummy, right below my belly button. A tightness in my throat. I've never been good at confrontation. At telling someone they hurt my feelings or that I am wrong or how I am really feeling when it might put them on the defensive.

When I'm angry- with a situation or with myself (this is the case more often than not) I try to distract my mind instead of marching forward with confidence into what may (or may not) be an difficult conversation. I go for a walk, go buy hand soap, chop carrots or wash a load of laundry. And it's always been this way as far as I can remember.

When I mess up- and hurt someone else- it could very easily take me two or three days to dig myself out of the trenches and stop replaying the entire scenario over in my mind. "What if I'd of not said this..." "What if I would have gone....." "What if she thinks I'm untrustworthy......" "What if I'd have said something sooner..."

A counselor once told me that I am can't say should have comments. And I can't live hypothetically. And I can't be frustrated with someone for something that they might be thinking.

I just want everyone to like me. (NEW FLASH: Not going to happen!) I just never want to disappoint anyone. (HELLO!!!)

This week a girl who worked in a building right next door to my office building was crushed when there was a terrible elevator mishap. The tragic news spread quickly and emergencies vehicles blocked the avenue most of the morning. It made me nauseous too, my heart sinking and my nerves jumping and the reality that we are all just a falling elevator car away from death. Every. Single. Day. Tragic really, that I'm not living like I could die tomorrow. I'm not guaranteed my next breath. Not to be morbid--- but we have to start really living and leaping and loving others more than ourselves.

Guilt is not what I want to feel. And I'm thinking that it may be the greasy pizza I just ate as much as it is my nerves right now, but I can't be frightened by difficult conversations, because, they are going to continue to happen. Who's right and what's wrong doesn't really matter to me as much as learning from my mistakes. Humbling myself to admit my pride -- which is probably what got me in this predicament in the first place. And changing.

Changing how I will handle the situation next time, because I know tomorrow will bring a next time.

Eleven Pipers Piping

.... or puppies panting in this case.

This is my middle sister, Chrissy with her two "children," Abe and Molly. Abe is a Brussels Griffon and he really is, well, sort of unattractive. He looks like an Ewok pretty much. Poor guy.

While home in Texas during Thanksgiving Chris and I spent most night with Chrissy and her husband Jeremiah in their beautiful home which she had already decorated for Christmas. There twelve foot tree stood in the living-room adorned with maroon and gold ornaments. The stocking were hung, and the nativity was set. Above the breakfast table she had hung red and gold Christmas balls from the chandelier.

Even the tiniest festive adornments had been placed in the kitchen and bathroom and entryway. My sister is very artistic and creative- and her home looked very festive.

I realize this has very little to do with Pipers or Piping, but my sister absolutely LOVES Christmas, which is why her house was decorated before Thanksgiving.... She loves finding just the right gift, and buying things for other people and baking! She is truly a marvelous baker because, unlike myself, she does not try to be chinchy with the sugar, she uses all the butter that the recipe calls for, she doesn't purposefully substitute skim milk for heavy cream and she knows the difference between baking soda and baking powder. I don't even own a double broiler.

She's a wonderful baker of white chocolate covered anything and caramel stuffed whatever and her holiday cookies and bars and truffles LOOK pretty. My baked goods are barely edible and they look, well, like something you wouldn't be proud of plating and taking to a Christmas get-together.

When I think of my sister Chrissy at Christmas I think of snooping in my parents closet, shaken packages, torn edges of wrapped presents and her stacks of gifts of Christmas morning. She liked to pile each of our gifts to see who's stack was the tallest. Obviously. Therefore revealing who mom and dad loved the most.... I was old enough to realize, however, that my charm bracelet and bottle of Exclamation Perfume cost just as much as her marble run and ant farm and leg warmers and basketball and klutz books on how to make your own friendship bracelets. But still, my pile was usually 1/4 the height of hers.

Chrissy loved- and still loves- sweets. For several years the three of us girls go a Whitman's sampler boxes of chocolate. We loved this because there was actually a sheet of paper inside the box that told you which chocolate was which kind. This changed the way I picked my chocolates forever. No more wondering if you would end up with a mouth full of caramel or peanut-butter. And the Strawberry, Lemon and Orange-creme filled squares: forget about it! I was not interested. In an effort to make my sugar last I'd stash this box away, knowing Chrissy's would probably be gone within a day or two.... and then she'd come looking for my candy.

Chrissy was the only daughter with bangs. The only one with brown eyes. The one who could outrun the boys and was terrified of spiders. Christmas is her time to host, buy, decorate, make and give. I'm blessed to call her sister; she is a blessing to so many.

Twelve Days of Christmas-ing

It's time to share the love! It's time to squeeze out all the meanness and hate and selfish-tinted motives that drive us so much of the time.

...

Today, as I sit at my desk behind a Christmas tree and manorah and a big bowl of M&M's (in our company's colors, with our companies name on them--- on each and every M&M-- this is not cheap people), I feel rich. I feel blessed. I know that as an American I have so much more than majority of the population of the world have.

I know this is true. I believe it is true. I've seen it, I've heard from those who've experience it first hand. When Chris told me stories about the street kids in Rwanda who literally live on the streets, it broke my heart. Rummaging through the city dump and taking care of each other at five, eight and eleven years old- it's how they survive.

So why do I feel entitled to a massage? My needs no longer include water, food and shelter. I need a certain amount of counter space in my kitchen, nice jewelry, a fifteenth lip gloss and a massage at least once a quarter.

Sometimes, and I guess especially at Christmas time, I am overwhelmed with the opportunities to give and serve and minister and be charitable. There are so many people who need their basic needs met as well as needing to experience sincere care and love and hugs.

I want my life to be effective, and not just by writing a check or donating a baby-doll or a gently used winter coat. I want to have an impact. And I'm not talking about changing the entire world tomorrow. I'm not naive enough to think that I matter all that much, but there has to be a better way.

Maybe it's just one blog post at a time. Or hugging one Scrooge a day. I'm not really sure what making an impact on my part of the world looks like right now, but I feel like something BIG is coming. I find comfort in knowing that all I have to do today is what God intended for me to do today- no more, no less. But I don't want to sell myself short, or aim too low, or completely miss using my talents, gifts and abilities for greatness. Something larger than I could dream. Something outside of myself. Something only God could do.

Change.

Texas Run Down...

Here are some pictures of how we spent SOME of our time in Texas.

Momma and me, Thanksgiving day. We had an amazing meal that my mom prepared 100% of. She loves to cook and we love to eat so it works out well.















Chris and I rode motorcycles with my dad. What an amazingly free feeling. I miss it.















This is a picture my brother John took from underneath the trestle. The tiny people way up in the air are LB & I and Chris- toting his obnoxiously long walking stick. He looked like Moses leading the way. I was more afraid of tumbling to my death.















This was one of our many modes of transportation during our trip in Texas. In the back of the truck my father-in-law let us borrow were huge bags of cow feed. The funny thing is that every time we'd drive by the Texas Longhorn cattle that get fed the before mentioned feed.... they'd come running across the pasture, recognizing the hum of this particular gray Ford, expecting food.

Chris and I both did alot of reading and journaling during our week away. This is Chris sitting on my sisters and brother-in-law's back porch.

Full speed ahead

Halls decked?

Holly hung?

Tree decorated?

Nativity set displayed?

Lights lit?

Christmas in our tiny abode really isn't all that pitiful if you ask me, but it is sort of meek. We have no room to put up a Christmas tree, or hang stockings, or set out snow-globes, but we make due.

I hung some garland, placed my plush reindeer atop the bookshelf and set out three or four of my favorite ornaments as little figurines. That is it, but it's okay.

I got to help decorate our sanctuary at church with live greenery and millions of red twinkle lights. I also got to put the tree up in the office and adorn it with lights and tinsel and blue and silver glittery balls. So I've had my feel. I really enjoy the use of LIVE greenery and garland in the Northeast. It seems to be more prevalent and available here than in the south. Live wreaths and trees and holly branches: very nice. And it's nice to throw it all away on January 1st.

...

Christmas time is here and my calendar is full! Chris leaves today for a weekend youth retreat and while I really want to be excited about some alone time--- I have too much to do.

Tonight we are having a youth game night in the fellowship hall. Nothing like Twister, Taboo and a game of Jenga to end a tiresome workweek. After pizza and hanging out, I'll get home around 9:00pm where I really want to finish up my Christmas cards.

Tomorrow I have a baby shower at 1:00, a Christmas party at 9:00pm. PM. That's really late for me. AND the invite said, "festive attire!" Ha!!! I also found that the wonderfully talented Laila Biali is playing for FREE at 8:00pm at Rockwood Music Hall and her music does something incredibly healing to my soul. She's not only a pianist, but an amazing performer. I like to be entertained...

And Sunday morning the choir is singing and call time is 8:15am. Which really puts a damper on that whole "9:00pm festive attire" party, that I'm sure will involve wine...

...

And next week: The Christmas Concert, Tell Me a Story. I will live at the church next week. The youth are also "leading out" next Sunday during church- to give us choir peeps a break, after all those rehearsals and performances. But since I'm involved with youth too.... But it's really fine. We live a block from the church. This is why we do this. And this week comes every. single. year.

OH--- And I'm also trying really hard to memorize a monologue (along with all my choir music). It's a little difficult because I wrote it, and being vulnerable up on that stage all alone, reading my own writing is sort of a writers nightmare. But it will work out, hopefully.

But what I really want to do right now, is simply stroll the aisles at Target!

Thanksgiving

Chris and I spent the week of Thanksgiving in Texas visiting family and friends. I always struggle after such a retreat and vacation, of sorts, to sit down and write.

There is so much to say.

For now, I'll just tell you what some of my favorite moments of the Trip to Texas were.

1. Getting to know my best friend Lora's daughter, two year old Tessa, even more. We spent a couple of nights in the Stockhammer's home and while Tessa called me "Stefani" as best she could, Chris was simply referred to as "other people." The entire trip.

2. Looking through my Nana's recipe boxes that my mother now has possession of. My Nana died in 1997 when I was seventeen years old. At the time to me it seemed that I was actually very lucky to get to know my Nana. But now I realize, I hardly knew her at all. As I've grown from a youth, to a married woman of thirty-one, I wish I had more time with her.

Her recipe boxes were stuffed with mostly handwritten recipe cards, although some had been typed with the typewriter. The From the Kitchen of line was always filled in and there were many, many women's names. There were clippings from newspapers, magazines and pamphlets. These I enjoyed most, especially reading the backs of the recipes themselves- what other "news" was going on at the time and what prices were at the supermarket.

3. Riding motorcycles with my husband and my father through the East Texas farmland right before sunset. The temperature was biting, but overall it was glorious.

4. Walking the railroad track to the train trestle with Chris, my sister Laura and my brother Jonathan.

5. Being "gifted" with a most needed and relaxing facial from my sweet friend Alaina. I got to see her new space and enjoy being pampered by her special touch. She is now self-employed and seems quite content and terribly busy with clients. What a blessing.

6. Spending the night at my sister's beautiful home on Lake Athens, waking each morning to make a pot of coffee and sit in her alcove window seat looking out into the woods.

7. Stashing some of my mothers homemade rolls away and bringing them back to NYC with me! Mmmm, warm (although reheated) homemade bread plain or with butter and cinnamon. I could survive on this alone.

8. Quietness. Darkness. Stillness.

Unarmed

The pace is frustrating. Heavy, like the rumbling, bass beat of that rattling music coming from a car that happens to stop in front of your house. Shaking your organs. Hurting your insides. You put a hand over your chest, instinctively, just to make sure that your heart is still there and still beating somewhat regularly.

The pace is killing me.

I’m tired of being yelled at, and tired of yelling over the constant, steady drone. Over the hum that never stops. The noise that never stops. The sirens, and honking, and drunken laugher on the sidewalk and car alarms and air brake on the city buses that never stop.

Earlier this week I was simply taking my time choosing what I wanted to eat at a deli in Grand Central Station; looking at quinoa and tofu and beets and cabbage and bokchoy. I wasn’t asking for help yet. I wasn’t holding up any line or in the way- I was just considering my options, enjoying food. Enjoying my time out of the office.

But I felt rushed. I felt like I was an inconvenience. I felt as if the girl behind the counter would have had a much nicer day if she never had to talk to a customer. And in times like this I almost always feel like a victim. Like I just want to sit down and cry, or punch someone in the face.

And there is nowhere to step away from any of it. Nowhere to go where it’s completely turned off. And it makes me an angry person. The worst version of myself: rude, selfish, quiet- introverted, a loner who doesn’t care about you or want to have anything to do with you. Chris says I walk around with a demeanor that says, "I carry blades."

I work so hard on my outside appearance when I feel like my inside is rotting. Even when I seek direction or pray or try sincerely to do better- I don’t ever get there. And it’s not about arriving, or any of that, but daily I feel like laying down and dying would be easier than trying any more, as melodramatic as that may sound. It’s three steps forward and one step back- that’s the only way to get there. That and prayer, Christian accountability and doing things that feed my soul.

Without believing who I am, I am lost. Without knowing the direction, I feel meaningless. And in a world where we can claim success and define ourselves by many, many things, it scares me to be so susceptible. To be unarmed.

I ask for God to speak truth to me today when I sat down to read my Anne Lamott book on my lunch break. In the short story, A Man Who Was Mean to His Dog, she said:

“Well, I am certainly not there yet. I myself am a bit more into blame and revenge; also, I’ve found that self-righteousness is very comforting. But Jesus is quite clear on this. He does not mince words. He says you even have to love the whiners, the bullies, and the people that think they‘re better than you. And you have to stick up for the innocent.”

I can relate.

Pouting.... but Thankful

It's raining. And I'm hungry. And tired.

And I want to go home.

I've been eating less and working out more (in mental preparation for the abundance of food that will be everywhere next week) and it's making me a complete grump.

I think.

Remember the cabbage I made a week ago? I'm still eating on it... I'm tired of cabbage. I need a burger with cheese and bacon and a side of ranch dressing to dip it in.

I'm trying to get all those last few things done before we leave for Texas on Friday afternoon. Friday afternoon when I leave work just a little early to make that 6:00 flight.

I need to:

Stop by and pick up a prescription

Figure out if I have enough contact solution and face wash and toothpaste to make it through a week away

Get the most recent choral music (for our Christmas concert) on my iPod for practicing while I'm gone

Decide on a lighthearted, fiction, book to take along with me

Oh, and pack!

Sometime after choir rehearsal tonight and after a youth leadership meeting tomorrow night, I need to finish packing. The weather in Texas is so different from what it is here this time of year, I'm excited about ballet flats and cropped jeans and short-sleeves for awhile. It's so much easier to pack for warmer climates. Even on our long Boston week-end-getaway all those sweaters and coats and scarves took up so much space.

It's not like I really need to worry all that much. I can run to Wal-Mart or Target or CVS for anything I need. I can shop in my mom's and sister's and best friend's closets for any clothes I might need to wear. But I'm still taking 4-5 pairs of shoes!

...

I'm looking forward to wide open spaces & quietness.

Just being in the same room with family is enough for me. There's just something that isn't eroded by time and distance. We're solid. There's a automatic comfort and gladness; it is what home really means I guess. It's something I don't get to feel all that often. I mean, my NYC family is my NYC family, but my own flesh and blood can't be replaced. We are silly and loud and have inside jokes and memories that immediately pour out of us.

I'm looking forward to doing whatever each day brings. And just going with it. I'm trying to approach this week as a week of true rest and renewal. I haven't been home since Thanksgiving last year, and I'm in need of some Texas air.

Movers and Shakers

I am a homebody. Normally, I'm content in the stillness of our small, own space. We rarely, DO anything on weekends- considering that we live in New York City. We hardly take advantage of the night life or dance scenes or live music or "no cover" bands. On most evenings we simply choose to stay in.

But this weekend was different. Friday night, before the sun even set, we had a wedding to attend. A 5:00pm wedding on 11/11/11. And the party went well into the night. Our night, of course, ended prematurely at 10:00pm, but that was enough wedding celebration for me. Food galore: buffets full of appetizers, carving stations, a swan created out of fruit, passed h'orderves, a four course meal, two open bars.

There were bins and bowls full of candy with those metal scoops which I couldn't resist. Now we have enough grape gummy bears and blue tootsie rolls to last us for months. I think Chris and I had the most fun in the photo booth.

In between eating and drinking and dancing guests could use all sorts of props and basically act ridiculously silly having their picture made. After the booth deposited your photos you were instructed to cut out a strip and tape it into a photo album for the bride and groom. There were metallic pain pens available to write your own message beside your pictures. Give me a glass of champagne and a metallic paint pen; the fun will never stop!

We had a blast dancing, meeting some new people and having good conversation with old friends. I got to wear a borrowed blue dress that made me feel great. So this whole "getting out" thing, I guess it's not so bad! Even though we left before the cake was cut--- at 10:00pm.

And we opted out of the Free (although no small fee for the father of the bride I'm sure) shuttle vans that were taking guests from the venue (in Queens) to Times Square. The party was to continue there at a bar they had booked for the evening. This is for big time party people. Not people like myself who top out at two glasses of vino.

HOWEVER, let it be known the fun did not stop there. The Chambers had another night of dinner and dancing at a church-wide event Sunday night. From 5:30pm-10:00pm the congregation of Trinity Baptist Church were invited to a TEN celebration.

We have just completed a church-wide book study (TEN) which is based on John 10:10 "I came so they can have real and eternal life, more and better life than they ever dreamed of." It was a great book (not in stores until Jan. 2012) that taught me many things. There isn't sacred and secular- there just is who you are and what your faith is. It should be one. It should be you.

God has a purpose for your life (cliche I know) BUT- find it, chase it, do it. Don't leave your options open. There shouldn't be a PLAN B. There should just be you, doing the thing God called you to do. Oh, and when you don't do what God's called you to do, it doesn't just effect you. It effects everyone. Choosing your way, or an easier way, or waiting for your ship to come in and not getting off your butt- yeah, that's just selfish. Fear is rooted in self reliance. Rely on God- because he's already got the victory. (And now I will step away from the pulpit...)

ANYWAY- Sunday night we Celebrated big with a semi-formal party. It was so much fun. We had a delicious meal prepared by an amazing chef in our congregation. There was live music, a deejay, and even (gasp...!!!) dancing.

The Chambers- we can party when we want to.
We can be cool.

Veggie Stew

1 ginormous head of cabbage - $3.00

1 onion- .60 cents

2 tomatoes, 2 zucchini & 1 clove of garlic- $6.00

2 big fat carrots- $1.65

All this plus maybe a little brown rice and turkey sausage (I gotta keep my man full, and veggies just might not do it.) You'd actually probably laugh if you saw how I portion this completed stew out. I ladle "mine" into my individual corningware: veggies only. I add some sort of meat and carb to Chris's servings. Not that I don't need protein and carbs, but I like veggies alone more often that not. And I'm a HUGE freak about my personal portion control.

Which is why at Le Pain Quotidien this morning when I said, "just a splash of half-and-half" I meant just a splash. It made me a nervous wreck letting someone else control my coffee to milk ratio. But I managed.

...

Making my last veggie stew of the season tonight with ingredients from the farmer's market leaves me a little saddened. Although the Union Square Farmers Market is open year-round, four days a week- the season of bounty is drawing to a close...

I love walking the market and wandering through the stands. I bought these items from four different farmers & I also just had to buy two more apples. Even though I already have three waiting to be eaten.

I just love farmers and farming and the smell of onions and fennel and wet wood at the farmers market.

And the fun never stops

Have I mentioned that I'm on a budget?! Well, I've been trying to convince myself how arts and craft supplies are a necessity. How I need art supplies more than listerine or ziplock bags or a lip liner.

Saturday I FINALLY made it to the new (about two years old) Michael on the Upper West Side. This required a train uptown, then a bus across town but it was worth it.

I will be honest and admit that it is not nearly as spacious and glamorous as the Michaels I remember.... AND I am still a bigger fan of Hobby Lobby. (I miss you, Hobby Lobby.)

But, I did have a wonderful time going up and down each and every singe aisle. I read the back of more than one type of adhesive. I wanted to know the difference between each and every single type of Mod Podge. And I love rubber cement- it can do wonders. And glue sticks! Give me an exacto knife and I can make something wonderful.

I sort of went with some supplies to buy in mind and sort of went to get inspiration. I also went with a 20% off your entire purchase coupon, which actually didn't seem to be all that much of a discount when I got up to the register.

I ended up leaving with thread (embroidery floss) a few bottles of glue, some scrapbooking paper, and a big box to keep it all in. And some inspiration.

I plan on making our Christmas cards this year. And I continue to cut and paste and rip pretty pictures from architectural magazines we receive at the office. Most notable, however is that for the first time since about 1990 I'm making a friendship bracelet. Yes indeed. Last night you would have found me on my couch watching a 13-year-old girl on youtube teaching me how to do the "inverted chevron."

Life is good!!

Why Starbucks is on Top, Again...

Today I ordered a tall half-caf from Starbucks for $1.91. It is the second of the three Starbucks I pass on my walk across 42nd Street to Madison Avenue. Across Madison Avenue there is another location. I drank my coffee with a splash of half and half, no sugar.

The girl in line behind me was about five foot tall. Wearing no makeup and using a cane at the very young age of about 35 I'd say, she ordered her tall iced chai tea latte with a little spunk. And this was not really a spunky girl, but more of a frumpy girl. However I think stepping up to that barista wearing the green apron, cinnamon wafting into her nostrils and saying "tall iced chai tea latte" truly empowered her. I think it may be the boldest thing she might do all day. She just looked like that sort of person; quiet, shy, a "behind the scenes" job.

Anyway, I'm back at Starbucks after Joe's and Rize (who serve Stumptown coffee) and even Screme Gelato Bar. Screme actually opened about a year ago as D'Espresso coffee bar, but after they installed a gelato cooler right in their front window business started booming and now gelato is priority--- and they also serve coffee. Funny how those decisions are made overnight it seems.

Their gelato does well in this office.... Our Managing Director seems to sneek out at least once a day for a scoop. Yes, sometimes more than once a day. But you didn't hear that from me. He's the only one with a key to the side entrance right next to his office and it's quite hilarious to see him step off the elevator and slide through that door after getting his sugar fix, instead of walking through reception and displaying his gelato to all the worker bees sitting in their cubicles on his way to his office.

I like the entrepreneurial spirit, the blue collar worker (although I'm not really sure how that relates here, but I DO!), the independents. I like the small business owner. I despise Wal-Mart and don't eat at chain restaurants when I can help it. However, Starbucks has it figured out. They have those red cups during the holidays with tiny white snowflakes, the have seasonal beverages like Eggnog, Pumpkin and Toasted Coconut.

Personally, the sugary (some of those drink have 55 grams of sugar-- in one drink!!) specialty drinks don't call to me like they used to. I want my coffee to taste like coffee, dark and smokey and bold. When I do order a skinny cinnamon dulce latte- I inevitably regret it; the $4.50 that it cost, the sweetness, the way it doesn't taste like coffee. I want to eat my dessert.

Last week the girl in front of me ordered a grande white chocolate mocha. Her total was $5.17. I peeked around to see if she ordered a bagel or something, maybe a bottle of that expensive Ethos water. Nothing. Just one cup of sugary energy. I'll admit to you here what I thought:

Gee, that set her back $5.17! And about 500 calories. I looked up the nutritional information when I got to work that morning. It was actually 470 calories. I'm that person.

Rize (roasting Stumptown coffee) is the best coffee. For coffee flavor, boldness, overall taste, hands down- they are the best. The thing is a small there costs $2.00 and it is a true 6oz. coffee. You walk out carrying one of those Dixie cups your grandmother kept in the bathroom to rinse her mouth out after taking out her dentures. Cost aside the biggest issues for me is:

They DON'T SERVE DECAF. I'm so affected by caffeine and sometimes it's not pretty. I need a half-caf!

No hard feelings to Rize Coffee. I understand that MOST people drink coffee for the buzz, not the flavor, but the last cup I had from there left me doing circles around the reception area like a puppy who needed to be taken outside.

Joe's is good, and so is D'Espresso, I mean Screme, but I just have something for that siren. (And at Joe's you can't really do a half-caf unless your willing to mix two different blends, and I've done it. It tastes gross. And again... I can't do leaded coffee, so unless you have a really good decaf (which most places don't) I'm hard to satisfy. Oddly enough...

Starbucks pumps in that fresh baked Snickerdoodles fragrance. They have that lighting you'd love to have in your own living-room but would never really consider buying; it's too trendy, too much of a risk. They have squishy chairs to sit in and free wi-fi and more than anything it is familiar. You know what you're getting, no surprises.

I don't need to drink my coffee from a ceramic mug. I just need a little jolt; half of what the normal person needs evidently. I'm high strung even at 7:30 in the morning!

Happy November

This morning as I grabbed a few peanuts and candycorn on my way out to the gym at 6:00AM I thought about what would be the best place to hit up the after Halloween candy sale....

But then I thought better.

Also, if you haven't yet tried candy corn and dry roasted peanuts together- do it. It's a perfect mix. I used to love hitting up Target or CVS for after the holiday candy sales- especially Easter..... But this is not as easy as it was when I had a car, which is probably a good thing. Although I have been considering a trip to the Target on 116th street for a couple weeks now.

Shopping at Target and Bed Bath and Beyond and the flagship Food Emporium underneath the Queensboro bridge makes me feel somewhat normal. I get to push a shopping cart. The aisles are wide and the ceilings are high. Space is nice. Although sometimes when I'm shopping in Target on top of Costco, on top of Old Navy I swear I can feel the entire infrastructure move. Hello, I'm swaying in the wind in a cement box the size of a city block.

...

Today is the first day of Nanowrimo (National Novel Writing Month...) and it's been beckoning to me. A couple years ago I participated and wrote a 50,000+ word memior. And never edited it. Nanowrimo is truly a fiction writing event- for any and all sorts of fiction writers, which I do not consider myself. I could just write to write. Or I could give a big ole brave effort at writing fiction for a month.

I just have no plot in mind. No climax. No characters that I've been dreaming about for months. I consider myself a prose writer; a creative non-fiction writer. BUT maybe I should stretch my muscles just to see what I'm capable of. Who knows.

...

There was frost on the pumpkin before November 1st this year and I'm fearful it's going to be a long five months until April. Especially since I've already dawned my parka! In our apartment, all of the fleece and cashmere and wool and thermals are out of there Rubbermaid containers. I've said goodbye to my ballet flats and haltertops and sundresses that I don't feel like I got to wear enough.

This week I'm getting all those wool winter skirts laundered and buying new tights. Chris has moved our bicycles to storage (ie his office at the church!) and has found his skiing gear. I guess winter is coming ready or not. I do always love this time- fall and the holidays.

It's February that I'm thinking "It'll all be over soon." And in March when I'm thinking, "Springtime, now that's when it'll warm up...." And in April when there's still snow on the ground that I'm wondering, "Why do I live here again??!" That's when I've really had my feel.

But not yet. There are still trips to be taken, family to see, evergreen scented candles to burn, cards to be mailed, pumpkin spice things to eat and carols to be sung.

Just a picture.

Oh, I just don't know how I'd make it without this man: my supporter, my cheerleader,

my best friend and the one I have the most fun with.

Even spending the night shopping for boring things at Bed Bath and Beyond

& doing laundry (like we are tonight...) sounds perfectly fine to me. Glorious even.

Sitting

Today when I finally went to lunch at 4:00 and I found myself really wanting to just sit in the dressing room at Ann Taylor Loft with the door shut and read my book I thought about this guy.(The white haired man in the toboggan- in the photo. See him?)

First- don't think I was starving. I ate a Think Thin bar (that I got for FREE yesterday outside GCS where they were passing out samples and coupons...) at my desk around 1:00 and wolfed an apple while walking the sidewalk at 4:00. Think Thin- not the greatest meal replacement bar I've ever eaten... FYI.

Second, I don't really know how I found myself in the dressing room at the Loft. When I left the office at 4:00pm I didn't really care where I was going- just out of the windowless reception area for an hour! It think it was the red "50% off select items" banner hanging in the window--- then to discover that, low-and-behold dress slacks are on sale, well I just had to try some on.

But once in that quiet (I guess it's like that around 4:30) dressing room, faced with two floor length mirrors and lots of lighting- I just had to be honest with myself. Everything sort of washes away at that point.
And I just wanted to sit and tune out the world. Although I'm pretty sure when Beatrice, the nice young associate in the fitting room, discovered me all nestled up on the bench thirty minutes later, reading Walden, she might call security.

...

Chris and I saw this old man in Maine. He was just sitting on this bench. Looking out at this. I'm convinced he's got it figured out.

When I travel to places that are unfamiliar I enjoy stalking the locals. I even have a collection of photographs titled such. I like capturing people in their element.

I don't know much about ocean life. About living near a port or boats or decks. I don't know the swell of the tides before a storm, or the smell of salt water day after day after day, or how a mast directs the wind. Jetty, marsh, seawall- have never been in my vocabulary.

Today at 4:00 I'd have loved to be sitting here. Learning about these. Listening and not talking, not thinking a million questions or hypotheticals- but just sitting.

Where the artists are

While we were in Massachusetts we visited an community of artist. Well, it was really more like a district where artists worked and/ or lived and sold their art. I find it simply exhilarating wandering the sidewalks and peeking at all that has been created.

It's permission to snoop and investigate and become a detective of sorts- or maybe that is just the journalist in me.

Walking by studio after studio after boutique after barn turned into gallery, I create these hypotheticals and stories. I imagine the lives of the artists that have made something from nothing. Each photograph, sculpture, pottery, painting started just as an idea. Started maybe as just an inspiration or an afterthought or a late night one-more-chance last ditch effort. But with
time and vision and much intentional thought something beautiful and unique was created.

Intention. Intentional. This is something that I have been wrestling with somewhat lately. This leaves no room for laziness. This means work and purpose and that I ask myself the hard questions and I'm willing to admit when I just don't know.

I'm willing to learn, to be diligent, to grow, to better myself and not just let life happen to me, but to do something to make life happen.

....

Right now I'm reading Walden and I love it. I should have read it sooner. It may just be all this concrete and the fact that NYC is plugged in all the time--- but it's like breathing in warm eucalyptus to these frozen lungs of mine. I think it's resuscitating me in a way.

...

The weekend "with nothing on the calender" was glorious. It just felt right. I'm pretty sure I said about ten times between Saturday and Sunday, "this just feels good." I haven't felt great about just being in the city in quite some time. I'm always finding places to go and people to go with and not nurturing my soul like I should. This weekend I finally hung photographs and paintings and things in our little Manhattan apartment. Chris and I moved some furniture, turned some over, and put a screen in our window. (Well, he did that.... and most of the hanging too.)

But it made me happy to go to Home Depot and to walk down the aisles of switches and electrical tape and knobs. There are also endless amounts cleaning supplies to get you in the mood if you're not. My best friend in Texas loves cleaning supplies. She has all the gadgets and solvents and solutions. Which is why fresh scent Clorox cleaning wipes remind me of my wedding day... but that's another story.

Chris and I didn't go too crazy in Home Depot, but we did buy special duster to clean our ceiling fan, which I am now afraid to use- lest my entire living room become covered with black specks. I should probably just trust that this product will do what it says it will do----

Chris also made a cover for our radiator... I will attach pictures soon. It looks great, and not like anything I'd throw together. There is just something about watching your man work with his hands!!! Between building a window screen and a radiator cover, moving furniture, and hanging pictures- Chris worked hard this weekend. But overall, I think we both had a wonderful time.

I've missed using that part of my brain that glues and colors and creates and can open the refrigerator and throw together a meal from whatever I might find.

Saturday was a good day, and Sunday was too. Glorious fall weekend in New York- cool, crisp weather in which I get to wear my winter-white coat. Mmmmmmmmmmmm.

Thermostat

Art

"Against a bright blue sky, clouds billowed up into a feast of white radiance. In my whole life, I have never been so deeply impressed by a mingling harmony of white shapes and forms such as I saw this day. If you could gather together all the froth and champagne bubbles that have flowed so abundantly at moments of celebration in the course of human history, it would be nothing compared with this sight..." AHAE

This photographer's work in on display in Vanderbilt Hall in Grand Central Station. It's absolutely breathtaking and wraps one immediately in a sense of serenity. Even in Grand Central Station, even in New York City one can find ten minutes to take a deep breath and just sit and look- even if it is "through someone else's window."

This collection of photographs, Through My Window, is a small sampling of the over one million photo's taken within a year, through the very same window in Korea.

....

This exhibit spoke to me.

When I think my writing doesn't matter, or affect anyone I am wrong. I am sure that taking picture 100,000 or picture 738,344 that this artists may have asked himself "what does it matter, is this a good idea, how will this be different than the artists before me?...."

My art is for myself.

It's for my soul and,

it is for so many others too.

At least I'm not a telemarketer

I got my engagement ring back on Saturday. This past Saturday. It was promised to me on August 16th. But now I have a brand new setting and my finger feels much better.

My bloodwork came back normal

FREE carrot cake cupcake just by whispering "twenty-four karats" at Sprinkles

Sunshine and no rain- and more fall like temperatures

A weekend ahead with nothing written on the calendar

Pumpkin Vitatops

$40 dress slacks on the sale rack at Banana Republic

A wonderful gym with great hours, intense classes and tremendous amounts of space for me to leap and bound

Burt's Bees Almond Milk hand creme which smells good enough to eat

Harvest Pizza for lunch on Friday (Pizza Friday's in the office) spinach, broccoli, red peppers, onions, olives on whole wheat crust.......... delicious, and it's free

My camera and journal and nice pens to write with. My shelves of books and lines from Walden that make me feel alive and want to scream, "Yes! Yes! Yes!" Scissors and rubber cement and pictures that inspire.

At least...

Overflow

You love me in the sunshine’s warmth on my shoulders, in the winds rustle of

the ginkgo tree outside my window,

Ocean waves methodically rolling

in and out

in and out

in and out.

Before all of these were created, you loved.

Before sands were poured from your hand and the mountains were shaped, you loved.

From dust you breathed life into man,

and to crumbs I will eventually return.

Walking along First Avenue at night sometimes the heaviness that I carry throughout the day seems to lift.

When I’m walking alone among the masses

Furrowed brow, zoning out, zoning into myself,

zoning inside to what’s safe and familiar and quiet.

But even there, deep within me, within who I really I am,

who I really long to be- I am not satisfied or enveloped in security

unless I call on you.

And, somehow in the headlights and streetlights and cigarette smoke escaping the lips of boys wearing backward baseball caps sitting in sports bars at 9:00pm –

the reality of needing to surrender to God’s grace seems to come into focus.

My prayer is to return

To realize the joy of my salvation

To live outward and not inward when I awake tomorrow

Cracking my eyes to the sound of sirens, car stereos, honking and clanking aluminum cans

You died so that I could become fully alive

To brake the chains and experience transformation.

And when I refuse to accept this life, this freedom, this purpose that you have for me

I’m saying your birth was for nothing

and so was your death.

I’ve been choosing to live in the shadows,

in the gray-

where the birds are scared to fly and

their song is a repetitions murmur

Make mine a life that matters

and a past that doesn’t.

Make all these things I do and say

an arrow pointing straight to You.