Why Anthropologie should hire me...

I am not one to brag...but my room looks SWEET. also--I did a lot of super cheap, lovely things to make it look good!  I shall share now. Take a gander.

Ok this is my bed.   The frame was $99.00 from IKEA.  The duvet cover is one I made a while ago by sewing a bed sheet on the back of a tablecloth. I don't know where I came up with the idea.  Super lovely. The curtains are beautiful (and $6.00) napkins from Ten Thousand Villages which I lined so they wouldn't fade and hung with curtain clips from a black curtain rod.  done.

This is...uhh..my bedside table and sitting area?  I guess.  I've never had one of them before.  haha. The chair was once in my living room. I love it.  It didn't really match the red shag carpet (yikes) so I threw this Navajo looking blanket on the back (which i found while going through my grandma's house last summer), which includes some red stripes and ties is all together (sort of).  I AM OBSESSED WITH BEES--hence the pillow. got it at TJ maxx. The bedside table was in my attic.  Apparently they are from some Milton Hershey thing.  My mom says there is one in the Hershey Museum.  Sweet. The mirror is one my roommate bought back in the day which i spray painted black.  That is my cat's bed--which is an old laundry basket with a pillow in it.  Riley likes it, thank you very much.

This is my dresser.  It is old.  On top I have this sweet mirror from Ikea, a beautiful hurricane lamp from my grandma Lucy, and various perfumes.  The thing my earrings are on is an old screen from my basement window that I found in the basement.  I have been keeping my headbands in a vase for a while now...i think it is a great way to display them and keep them from getting bent.  The picture in the frame is from a yoga magazine.  I am all about cutting crap out of magazines and putting it in frames.  so chic! 

This is my desk/bookshelf area.  The desk and bookshelf are from Ikea.  The chair is from an old library. we have like 5 at my house for no apparent reason.  The bulletin boards (one on the wall and one on my desk) are old ones I had that I painted and covered with great fabric i found in the basement.  I dried some Yarrow and put it in a big canning jar on my desk cause it matches my wall perfectly and is pretty. The teal "A"is one I painted.  And again with the framed magazine clippings. haha.  To the left of my bookshelf is a basket holder rack thing from the grandma's house which I have hung my 400 bags on.  Another good way to store them/display them. 

I think that is it.  I have loved making this space my home.  If you know anything about it pre-remodel.  It was horrific.  There were apple stencils.  dreadful. 

hope you enjoy. 

Love to all. 

Memory Box

I have had a memory box for a long time.  I think it really began when I started getting pictures and notes from the 3 weeks i would spend at summer camp.  Anyway, it has grown tremendously over the past couple of years.  I keep pretty much every card I have ever received, ever camp picture, every note or little craft a camper has made me, every tilly gift (a weekly gift between camp staff members), pictures, notes, dumb things I never want to forget...you know...everything.  Let me tell you...my memory box is pure comfort in my eyes.  About once a week, I get it out and go through it.  I sit on my bed and read through every card, every little note, and every picture.  They make me smile, make me miss people and times in my life, and give me peace.  It is like meditation to me.  I sit and think about the people who made things for me, wrote things to me, or posed for a picture with me.  I pray for them.  I hold them close.
Tonight was one of those nights.  I think my favorite thing about my memory box is that it holds every sort of emotion inside of it. I have cards from people who I have unfortunately had to part ways from.  I have notes from dear friends who I no longer talk to.  I have cards from my grandparents funerals.  I have pictures from college, the first friendship bracelet a camper made for me my first summer on staff...all of these emotions and things that make my story interesting.  And once in a while, I will read something that I wrote, or someone else wrote to me, and it will strike a chord for me.  Tonight I found a note I wrote to myself. (side note: I write notes to myself ALL the time.  In college, I would write a note and stick it on my desk and read it every day.  It's like the only way I get through to myself or something. I don't know. I'm weird.)
Anyway.  here is what the note says:

Dear Adelaide, Get out of God's way.  Love, Addie.

Adelaide is what I call myself when I'm getting serious with...myself.
But seriously.
You know when you have a moment when you feel like you are smarter than yourself.  I felt like that.  Those words ring true tonight. Just what i needed to hear.
So if you are like me and need to hear that short but sweet message, remember my little note in my memory box.  Get out of God's way.  I really don't know what I was thinking when I wrote this note, but I am not sure how I feel about "God's plan" language.  I think that this note is to remind me to simply ride the waves. Don't create drama where there is none.  Don't act like things are hard when they aren't.  Slow down.   Listen with every fiber of your being to God and your "God gut" as I like to call it. (I like to think that the queasy feelings I get when something bad is about to happen is all thanks to that crazy spirit in the sky).  Walk in stride with Christ who calls and leads.  If we pray without ceasing and make every breath a praise to the one who creates and sustains, then we have no choice but to get out of our own freakin' way.  Step aside, sista.
Thank you two year ago Addie for writing that little note on a post-it and then strangely keeping it in a box under your nightstand like some sort of hoarder.  It proved to be quite helpful.

another side note:  My parents are both downstairs singing along to Barbara Streisand live in concert of PBS.  This is my life.  Here's to you, Babs.

slow progress

So i am in the midst of painting my room.  I have been in the midst of painting my room since approximately the end of May.  I wish i could say i was surprised it was taking this long.  Not only am I working with 2 extremely detail-oriented OCD parents, but I myself (As I discussed in my past post) am not exactly a "go-getter".  So I am happy to report that with one more coat of paint on the doorways and windows, my room will be complete...at least the painting part of it.  But still, as I sit in my incredibly hot, unfinished space, staring at a table of paint brushes, electric sanders, and extension cords in the middle of my room, I am once again discouraged at how long things seem to take.  (hint: now is the point where I take an everyday life issue and make it all "life lesson-y"...how annoying.

I was recently talking to a friend who I haven't seen in a while.  We haven't had a real heart-to-heart in about 4 years.  She happened to ask me about a particular friendship with which i was struggling four years ago.   This is when I realized, that while we always complain that life moves too fast, sometimes things actually move slower than we would like--much slower.  As I sat there, facing a friend who cares deeply about my life, I realized that my relationship with this particular friend we were discussing has gone absolutely nowhere.  Sure, we have seen each other through 4 more years.  We have had our ups and downs.  But ultimately.  no where.  It kind of reminds me of that Antique Car ride at Hershey Park.  You feel like you are driving.  You are pumped about the "open road" ahead of you.  But you just keep on passing the same cheesy signs and terribly-dressed employees.  Our relationships has passed the same obstacles over and over again.  How freaking frustrating.  (now is the part where I tie it all together)

My motto lately has been "it is what it is"...In an effort to ground myself and look at things for what they really are, I adopted this motto to always remember that (once again) I cannot dream unless I am anchored in reality.  If I don't acknowledge what something is or has been, then I can't acknowledge the growth that has taken place.  So.  I remember my painted room.  And how much I treasure my dad's obsessive painting habits.  And how much time and effort he put into each stroke of the paint on my walls.  And I remember my friendships, and how much time and effort we put into our relationships with other people. I am learning to enjoy the process.  To be actively present in the moments of construction and chaos, and yes...to be present even in the moments of nothing--of completely and utter stand-still.  

This doesn't mean I want my room (or my friendship) to stay like this forever.  My bedside table is a turned-over laundry basket for goodness sake!  

Want and have

    This post went from a self-reflection to a bit of a sermon and then back again.  That will happen. I told you I'm writing my thoughts as they come. beach banner, remember?  I'm also distracted by the attractive barista behind the counter in front of me.

     What is it about small, locally owned coffee shops that makes me feel  this particular way.  It's really quite hard to explain the feeling.  I almost feel like a different, less inhibited version of myself.  It's like I'm who I want to be.  I remember at school I would sit at the Gryphon (before I was driven out by hipsters and people that are way cooler than me) and I would dream of a life where I got all my work done on time, and where I was self-motivated, listened only to Iron and Wine and Ani Difranco, became a vegetarian, did yoga everyday, let my hair just go insanely curly like it wanted to, and where everything worked out perfectly.  And then I realized, once again, these daydreams of mine all had their deep, penetrating roots in one of my truest faults.  I lack self-control.  Now I don't mean I have uncontrollable rage or can't stop myself from doing things I don't want to do.  My issue isn't severe or urgent.  I'm not going to go spend thousands of dollars on shoes or something.  It's more like a subtle undertone in everything I do.  Notice the things I dream about in my coffee shop daydreams.  I dream about being a self-disciplined person. Sure I can physically do yoga--in fact, I enjoy it.  But after one morning of doing it, I get bored, uninspired, and cranky with the idea of sticking with it.  What is it within me that has to keep moving?  Is it insecurity, is it lack of focus, is it the deep belief within myself that i really never will finish something I started?  Am i simply giving up?
      I remember last summer, I got the idea to make a quilt.  It was brilliant.  I can cut, I can sew, I can do it all (thanks to my brilliantly talented) home-economist mother).  And you know what--I was committed.  I cut all those dang squares and, wouldn't ya know it, I sewed them all together.  I finished something.  Just based on the fact that I am telling you about it now clearly means that it not only sticks out in my mind as a huge accomplishment, but that quilt also proved something to myself.  That with some determination and focus and a genuine will to start, finish, and enjoy something, I can do anything.
    As I sit here, sipping my vanilla latte (that is so strong it is likely to keep me up until Monday), I finally realize why places like this hit me in my very core and soul with this intense punch of reality and  also of my dream world.  Aside from my real desire to own a similar coffee shop with my mom, it is within places like this that I see the true meaning of community and a vision of what I want my life to look like.  People are talking, music is playing, coffee is brewing.  There is sharing of stories, pastries, laughs, looks, and life. I long to be a part of this, even just as a witness if not a participant.  This is community.  This is church.  Time spent dreaming has to be balanced out with time spend in the real and the now.  Without an intricate combination of both, we are simply get lost.  Me dreaming about the person I want to be means nothing without me acknowledging the person that I am.  So what if I only do yoga when I feel like it?  So what if one day I eat only hummus and bran muffins and the next day I eat a cheese steak?  What's it to you?  I'm not hurting anyone.  I am a combination of flake and realist.  It is what it is. I keep things interesting.  Though I will always be genuinely "Adelaide" (Lord knows I can't deny my personality), you will most likely be meeting a different version of myself every day.  I kind of like that.  If we aren't changing and growing, we are dying.  I'm living.   This is the life I want.  This is the life I have. 

First impression.

There is always a constant chain of thoughts running through my head.  It's kind of like those banners that they fly from low-flying airplanes at over-populated beaches, except my banner just keeps going and going.  This blog, in my mind, is my attempt at writing down some of those thoughts.  This is certainly not because I think that highly of myself that I think you all are waiting for me to post my little thoughts, but simply because I, being an extremely nosey extrovert, will take any opportunity to read other people's thoughts and feelings.  And, since I'm drawing heavily from the well of "blog people-watching", I figure I better pour some back in-- you know--so people can snoop on me the way I snoop on them.  Thus, my own personal blog.  I really am not quite sure what this blog will be.  I do, however, have strong opinions on what this blog will not be.  This will not be a place where I write every. single. thing. I. do. every. darn. day.  Nothing is worse than reading a blog about someone eating three (boring) square meals a day, dusting their living room, and giving their cat a bath.  That's not why we're here.   Please assume I am always going about my normal life.  If I have a fabulous dinner, funny story, epiphany, or life changing moment, I'll let you know.