swish...

Sometimes I pretend like I'm at a ski lodge. Sometimes, maybe too often. Like now... wearing my fleece-lined leggings (aaahhh!), wool socks, drinking a beer and eating pretzels.

And editing photos.

If I knew how those hashtag thingies worked, I would #iheartwinter or #awesome or #pleasesnow. Whatever that means.

four-eyes...

Today I visited the eye doctor. After being a 20/20 girl all my life, I had recently noticed some eyeball strain and blurriness - usually after hours of staring at a computer monitor. I was preparing myself to admit old age was finally sinking in its fake little denture teeth.

Following the appointment I called dad to give him the report.

"Dad, it seems as though I have a stigmata."

Yep. You heard correctly. I went to the eye doctor and left with the markings of Christ.

Ummmmm.

I mean astigmatism. I have astigmatism!

Now I can order cool glasses.

pitterpatter...

If I've received a better note, I don't recall it. He didn't write it, but it's perfect nonetheless.  Nerd talk = awesome.

http://xkcd.com/55/

meek...

It seems human nature's instinct is, upon being hurt, to hurt back. To throw out a reflexive punch without thinking, without pause, without a second breath.

It takes humility and self-control to respond charitably. To be loving to the one who caused you pain.

Today's lesson: think before you speak, text, or type a reply to someone who's injured your pride. You'll be the bigger person for it.

rover...

I fell for her in summer, my lovely summer girl

From summer she is made, my lovely summer girl

I'd love to spend winter with my lovely summer girl

But I'm never warm enough for my lovely summer girl

It's summer when she smiles, I'm laughing like a child

It's the summer of our lives; we'll contain it for awhile

She hold the heat, the breeze of summer in the circle of her hand

I'd be happy with this summer if it's all we ever had.

- Maggie Stiefvater, Shiver

...from a book I've never read. But I like it. 

And summer is... over. I don't like that. Not really much at all.

boom...

If ultimate frisbee is a just-out-of-the-oven, warm chocolate chunk brownie, playing ultimate in the cool evenings of fall is the melting ice cream on top - deliciously sinking into all the nooks and crannies.

Today I bought an ankle brace, laced the thing up, and limped around the field for a couple of hours. I couldn't catch half the throws I could normally run for, and I got burned a good handful of times. I didn't care. Well, a little. But I was outside running around again, and the sun was setting in bright pinks against deep blue, rain-soaked clouds. Yeah, I cared about that more. It was glorious.

gusto...

I need almost daily reminders to put my all into each day. How easy it is to forget. How awesome it is to remember.

Tomorrow is going to be a kick bootie day. I even wrote it in my planner.

To work hard, play hard, be fully alive. I most definitely desire those things. Tomorrow. It's happening, tomorrow.

gift...

So happy our family's lives changed a year ago with this happy little arrival. Happy, happy birthday, Mason!

bees knees...

Yesterday I had a three-hour phone call with a friend. We don't typically make small talk. It's a 'how is your life, how is your heart, what has been moving you lately' kind of talk. We laugh a lot too. And challenge each other. After the call is over, I can't help feeling loved. More loved than before. I am so grateful for authentic relationships. People who care - not for the sake of knowing, but for the sake of loving. A gift for the soul.

free...

"You never go away from us, yet we have difficulty in returning to You. Come, Lord, stir us up and call us back. Kindle and seize us. Be our fire and our sweetness. Let us love. Let us run."

- St. Augustine

pants on the...

A pair of dark gray skinny cords came home with me today.

Winning.

kidney...

Today I felt like a housewife. Went to Mass, followed by grocery shopping, followed by concocting a huge batch (first of the season!) of thick, homestyle chili. And oatmeal chocolate chip cookies (partially to replace my roommates, which I ate most of, I am sure). And cleaned like a fiend. Spiders, anyone?

Enjoyed a friend's company and refreshments of the chilled belgian-wheat variety, over lunch.  Yes, I'll cheers to that.

I have no idea if this is what housewives actually do during a typical day... drink beer, listen to tunes, and tidy-up. If it is... yes, please.

stay...

It has possibly been one of those... months. Emotional (I'm sure you can tell by the recent bombardment of posts, after almost a year hiatus) and searching for understanding, connection. A desperate search of song lyrics has proved futile (go figure). But this. This I thought quite lovely.

There's nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it's sent away.

Sarah Kay

before...

Typically I don't permit myself impulse buys.  I make myself answer questions first, like, do I really need (whatever that means, anyway) this? Or, have I noticed a void of this or that for some time?

I get to indulge this desire for instancy though, during blissful visits to the local library.

Last week I picked up 'The Second Child' - a collection of poems by Deborah Garrison. I have no idea why. I can't say that I really ever read poems. Not that I don't enjoy them. I just never... think of it.  So what a delight to curl up and peruse this little book of lovely one sunny afternoon.

I wanted to share a favorite of mine. For whatever reason... well, I think I know... it caused me to smile.

The Past is Still There

I've forgotten so much.
What it felt like back then,
what we said to each other.

But sometimes when I'm standing
at the kitchen counter after dinner
and I look out the window at the dark

thinking of nothing,
something swims up.
Tonight this:

your laughing into my mouth
as you were trying
to kiss me.

duck, duck, goose...

The amount of f-bombs that have been flying through my brain the past few days, week maybe, has been utterly absurd, borderline appalling and so absolutely out of character it's often times comical. Which, I suppose, is why I feel compelled to write about it, knowing some might think I'm off my rocker. Or really angry. Or just weird. Hmmm... yes. All three, please. I share anyway.

I've noticed no one is immune to this critical, internal barrage. Well... maybe my mother. A strange look in my direction, "what the f---?" I yell at them, to myself, while smiling and nodding hello. A lovey-dovey couple holding hands in the grocery store, "f--- you". Cut off in traffic, "are you f------ kidding me?" Seriously, "what the f---?"

And tonight, while I'm prepping this post I hear a light drop on the seat behind me - what the... then, "F---!" (hard to tell, but all caps... definitely all caps). A big f------ spider just dropped from the ceiling to my couch. And now he sees me watching him and takes off quicker than a 100m sprint Olympian in all sorts of spastic directions. I grab my patent black flats and beat the living daylights out of it, flattening it paper thin to ensure no rebirths. Spiders do that you know - dead one minute, crawling, seemingly unscathed, the next.

And, while I continue typing this obnoxious, asinine post, a small movement to the right catches my eye, "you have got to be f------ kidding me." Another one. "It is f------ on." The other ballet flat is retrieved and utilized. This spider is faster and more nimble, but cannot escape my wrath. "F--- you, f------ spider." Smithereens is all that's left of it as well.

I urgently search  Google images, quite certain both were brown recluse spiders. Too bad I smashed them so confidently and ferociously their identifying marks are no longer such.

F--- you, spider.

F---. You.

I need therapy.

tenterhooked...

I am the sea on a moonless night,
Calling, falling, slipping tides
I am the leaky, dripping pipes
The endless aching drops of light
I am the raindrop falling down,
Always longing for the deeper ground
I am the broken, breaking seas
Even my blood finds ways to bleed

Even the rivers ways to run
Even the rain to reach the sun
Even my thirsty streams,
Even in my dreams

I am restless, I am restless

I am restless, looking for you

I am restless, I run like the ocean to find your shore

I'm looking for you

- Switchfoot

gifted...

A couple of weeks ago I sprained my ankle while bouldering.  It was totally dumb, my fault, and a silly way to suffer injury. I was going for a reach, I wasn't balanced, and I was prideful.  I'd done the route before. People were watching. Of course I could do it again.

Yep. Let me tell you how that way of thinking worked out. Pain and limping for the past two weeks (and it's not done yet, folks). Missing climbing nights and Ultimate league. Missing afternoon runs. Missing a simple walk around the block. And perfecting an entertaining method of going down steps.

There are, easily, many things that could have been worse. I could have had a wedding to shoot that weekend. I could have broken something. It could have been my knee twisted to oblivion. I know this. I still like to feel sorry for myself. I'm not used to being physically limited.

It's the typical case of taking things for granted. Not realizing how good something is, until it's no longer yours. Reading too much into a twisted joint?  Maybe.

But it was a point of reflection. I consider myself a grateful person... with a lot of room for improvement (so said little ankle).

Oh, how we can take things for granted. Our bodies. Our minds. Senses. People. Strangers. Shelter. Work. Love. Kindness.

Whatever the case, the injury provided extra time with friends, rest for my weary bones, and a renewed appreciation for health.

I'm not taking that for granted.

brights...

I went to an auto shop today to pick up a headlight.  My passenger low beam has been out since... two weeks ago. And technically I've been out of town a lot of that time, and not exactly driving at night like a luny in the dark.

Well, I'm a little luny. But that's not news to anyone.

So I took my part back to the garage, got out the tools, and went to town. I wanted to do it myself.  I needed to do it myself. As my hands turned black with dirt and grime, and small pricks of sweat appeared, combatting the heat of the recently running engine, I felt good. Strong. There is something about doing things on your own. Not always asking for help. Trying something new. Even if it's scary. Or you're not quite sure what you're doing. It's empowering. And to be honest, I felt like a bad ass. Yep. I did.

Then I realized I had the wrong headlight. It didn't fit in the socket. Back to the store. New headlight. Replaced it. Still nothing. No light. Back inside the store.

Turns out I was replacing the high beam. Seriously? Re-bought the low-beam the guy correctly gave me in the first place. Tried multiple times, unsuccessfully, to reach the incredibly awkward placement of the low-beam. Contorted my hand and screwdriver while being sure not to touch the bulb. Cursed on my insides. Scraped my arm. Started nervously sweating, again. But I had to get it. I had to do it myself.

I needed something I could be in control of. Something I could fix. Something that would let me know I am okay. I would be okay. I could do this.

Whew. That's a lot of pressure on one tiny, $11.47, lightbulb. Poor thing.

Then I called my dad. He reminded me I would be seeing my brother in a day.

I slammed the hood and started the car. My screwdriver stared dejectedly at me from the passenger seat.  I dialed my brother. Of course he could replace the bulb. He would be happy to.

And then I laughed. Wow. I was so caught up in wanting to prove myself. To be independent and confident instead of girly and weak (as if those are even legitimate opposites). It was a humbling moment. An enlightening moment. A frequently needed reminder - I'm really not the one in control And it's okay to ask for help.

No really, it's okay.

The beauty of what God can do with a simple lightbulb, after all...

beg your pardon...

Some days you just feel absolutely, stupidly, ridiculously happy. Maybe it was the coffee + new bean grinder combo or the Blind Pilot Pandora station recently discovered and playing non-stop. Either way, I'm sitting at this computer, smiling like a goon. And it is awesome.

scoober...

Spring League started tonight!  And... our team is so much fun.  And... Nate and I (my frisbee buddy) got the first beers of the night.  And... that means we had sweet moves.  And... I'm totally pridefully, outright bragging.  Rude.  I am just so excited.

It feels crazy good to be running free through the grass and the breeze again.

Aaaaaaaaaaah spring.

yellow fever...

I like ultimate frisbee so much I signed up for an indoor league this winter.  That equals year-round frisbee for me.  Can you believe that?  Who is this girl?  Games range from 8:30 to 10:30, and it's about a 4-hour commitment every Friday night... including carpooling, playing, and watching other friends' games.  Then I get home and have so much energy I don't know what to do with myself for the next three hours.

It's ridiculous.  I'm addicted.  Even though I have so much to improve, even though I'm not the strongest player out there, and even though after the first two points my lungs are screaming at capacity - the sport is just... so wonderfully simple, and fast-paced, and awesome.  I can't handle it.  Can't get enough.  Hope I can play until I'm 60.

Last fall, our team got the overall tournament W.  My first frisbee championship.  Before, no matter whose team I was on, we always ended up second.  On tournament day, the girls on our fall team were all gone for one reason or another. I played savage most of the day.  Umm... that was crazy.  No breaks, no rest, and definitely not enough water.  Halfway through the second game, my calves cramped.  I fell on the ground, unable to stand.  I felt completely obnoxious. And so helpless. My coach had to stretch me out on the field while I cursed myself for not shaving my legs.  Ooooh, please don't touch my legs, don't touch my legs! Seriously?  He touched my legs.  Well, my foot connected to my hairy leg.  I wanted to die. Okay,  I already wanted to die because my calves hurt so bad.  I then just wanted to die more.

In the end, our team kicked booty.  We weren't expected to win, or even come in second.  In fact, we were seeded last in the bracket.  Yes, that made victory even sweeter.

In summary, I like ultimate frisbee.  A lotta.