So Long, Sweet Summer

Summer is winding down, and I’m one of those crazy fools who starts mourning the loss of summer before it’s even passed. I can’t help it – my brain just trajects a million miles an hour, a racecar on the final lap. And yes, I do walk around with internal whiplash pretty much daily, you are very correct. So here’s my remedy for the unwarranted end-of-summer-blues:

Aria

So I generally show everyone I know the video's of Aria singing about them to make us all feel better (always an expert at presenting facts, this girl), like about how she will be attending school allllll the way over there in New York through a performing arts school (it’s called The New School, and you have to say it with a New Yorker accent, all pronounced and stuff: The NEEEW School) in search of stardom. And bam! They found it – would you believe it? – in OUR ARIA!?! They’re thrilled.

And we’re thrilled that they’re thrilled.

Summer and Aria, don’t leave. (But since you must, thanks for leaving pumpkin lattes on your way out the door…)

Stay Cool

The dog days are here. Saturday, I photographed a group of teenagers standing in high-heels on a grassy front lawn, cherry red lipstick popping from their lips, cheeks, fingernails. Flowers blooming every where in the garden sprinkler a flurry.

Summer.

best wedding EVER.

Nadalynn & Chris

September 7, 2019

Nothing more to say. 

MY Kind:

today's photo

So, technically this is a photo from yesterday, but I’m flexible. You should know I’ve been here three times in two other teenagers, by the way, solely for the photos (which are amazing).

I’m jetting out to LAX Friday, so I’ll be back in the West when we meet here again Monday. Care for more photos, albeit more than likely not as cool? Let me know and I’ll oblige. I rather like taking daily photos these days.

p.s. I wrote this post with an English accent. Can you tell?
p.p.s. I think no sleep is catching up to me.
p.p.p.s. I don’t mind.

thank you, natalye!

That's Natalye ^

I feel like Natalye has just been crowned homecoming queen of Murray High. Thanks to Markus, who told me "Have you seen her?? She's gorgeous!", and a BIG thanks to him for helping me find the most popular tie of the day!!!

Chasing Slow

I'm Writing A Better Story

My story is more than likely the same as your story: a clear beginning, and a murky middle, and then a new beginning again. 

A slow crawl back to the middle, a few inches closer to the goal, then another misstep right back to where I began.

It’s a story of relearning.

This chapter is about slowing down, about stripping the excess, about refusing to consume in a world that shouts for more.

But it’s also about the in between. It’s about what it’s like to vacillate between different parts of yourself and not get dizzy from the whiplash. It’s about living in the tilt a whirl that is standing up for something, then losing focus and vomiting over the handrails. It’s about staking a claim into the ground, then tripping over it on your way into the house for dinner. It’s about what happens when you strive for excellence and fail, and when you allow grace to change your mind.

It’s a story of less, to be fair.

But it’s also a story of much, much more.

weekend mash-up

 Happy Sunday, friends! 

I’m back from some family time today and am soooo excited we went to crash the state fair for a caramel apple and a meatball sandwich. Of course, I had way more fun since I was driving my new awesome Chevrolet Bolt (instead of a huge Chevrolet truck!) and one of my niece and nephew’s came too. I’m kidding, I suppose. Doesn’t matter what you drive as long as there’s a fair (whee! I can rhyme!) 

The truth is, I’m slowly learning to fall back in love with my western roots. Sure, there are great mountains (and beautiful mountains at that!), but it’s all in your perspective. Wherever you live, you’ve gotta make it yours and press onward. Besides, home is where you keep your vintage scrapbook collection, yes?

Happy weekend, guys!

I’ll sign off for now, but before I go, remember Marilee's Solar Panels? Yesterday, she sent over a sneak peek image of her new real estate agency (not yet on her site) that she just finished working on, which I posted above. Amazing, right?

Happy weekend, guys!

p.s. World Market is having a 50% off sale this week. I’ll be there virtually, of course!

self-promo

The scholarships made me do it. 

I wasn’t going to spread the word, but I’m just so excited that I can’t bear to keep it inside my anxious little head. Sumiko Martinez just selected me for my very own set of scholarships. [congrats on the new award, by the way, Sumiko!] Yes, Sumiko Martinez, the director of all scholarship funds. If Peach Diaries was a high school, she’d be the Homecoming Queen, Cheerleader AND Most Likely to Succeed. 

True.

So naturally, I’m on cloud nine until I find out today that I have yet another scholarship. To the order of 5,000. Keep in mind, my little old grades are HONORS and I work each and every paper out from my spare time after work. That’s a whole lot of classes and a WHOLE lot of studying. 

I’ve three years— think I can do it?

Ordinary Us

Currently

I’ve long-desired a fellow introverted mother to come alongside me and teach me her ways. With an inherent bent toward quiet, peace, and calm – how do we introverts navigate a life with children who are decidedly… un-so?

The good news: it’s here. Or rather, she is. Creatively woven with the wisdom of classic literary cohorts, Nicole Bruderer’s voice in this world offers hope for the hidden 50%.

Finally, a motherhood anthem we introverts can dance to. (Quietly. In a coffee shop or alone.)

Courage

To Journey Off The Beaten Path

A few months ago I listened to a TED talk about a girl that gave up giving a f^@%, and did her own thing instead.

She felt rich and full and complete, and I just listened, to this woman with her soft voice and perfectly scripted vocabulary, with that full head of brains, and I thought, hey, that’s it? That’s what I need to do? Sign me up.

So I tried, on a smaller scale. I gave away 80% of my wardrobe. I cut sugar and salt from my diet. I loaded bags and bags of stuff – beach sandals and spare sheets and that vase I couldn’t resist from the Target clearance aisle – and I hauled them in my electric car to the local D.I store.

I said “Yes” when I used to say “No."

My calendar, too, shifted to prioritize fewer things: family, service and love. I declined opportunities that didn’t align with my new goals.

Living With A Purpose

A few of you asked if I’d share more about Morgen’s diagnosis in college (mentioned in this post), but I just didn’t feel like it was my story to tell, you know? There’s always a fine line and delicate balance when your story kind of spills over into someone else’s life, and for a weighty subject such as this, I wanted to pass the pen to Morgen. (He’s the better writer, after all. Trust me!) He was sweet enough to answer a few questions below, after being released from the hospital today, so read on to hear his thoughts on taking risks, staying intentional and what it’s like to live with a purpose…

Upon hearing the news, what was your initial reaction?
I experienced different reactions as I received more news from each specialist. The first night with my first doctor, I was filled with anxiety about my car and where I had left it. When someone says you have a certain condition, you see reactions from those around you that you wouldn’t get to see otherwise. It’s kind of like going to your own funeral without dying. At the same time, you don’t really believe you’re actually going to die. You know it’s a possibility, but we all sort of feel – in some strange way – that we’re invincible. The invincibility complex kind of takes over and all it leaves you with is a weird sense of opportunity. This might sound strange, but I always liked getting called into the principal’s office when I knew I did something wrong, because it put me in an abnormal position to build a relationship with my consequence. And in a way, this was the same thing. It put me in an abnormal position to stretch relationships, but with consequence. My diagnosis was given during a time where stress in my life was stronger than ever, so it’s like, even if – worst case scenario – the under lord kills me after I have given up all my earthly possessions, I still get to wind up in heaven. A pretty solid safety net. It made sense to me in that current state of mind of psychosis or what ever the doctor at the moment called it. I mean I was going to school at night for my master's program, while working in my first real job as an accountant for the IRS auditing agency. Since they are located in Ogden I would get up at 6 am to drive an hour each way to work and then go right to school at the U and then come home to study and my brain wouldn't shut off. I would keep thinking, "I have to sleep, I have to get up at 6am!" But it just would get more wound up and after a week of not sleeping my mind couldn't tell the difference between what is real or not. When I went to Wendover and lost my wallet it made sense to drive until I left my car for the under lords. It sounds really crazy now explaining it but I could smell them when they were telling me what to do. I'm kind of glad that they know now that I have to sleep and can give me medication to help. 

Build A Better Wardrobe

Specifically, my wardrobe.

Most of this perspective has manifested itself internally, choosing less for myself in subconscious ways: fewer opportunities, fewer close relationships, fewer appointments on the calendar. But I’ve also realized a more conscious, unexpected twist: Monet helped me in editing my things. 

I am happy to say I’ve been making progress.

Bins of unnecessary excess have been donated, new purchases have been thwarted. Getting dressed takes approximately zero time in the morning, and the laundry piles are considerably few. By wearing the same basics day in and day out, I’ve taken a red pen to my closet and ruthlessly edited the extra and the more and the plenty, all of which provided endless options that I’d tricked myself into thinking were necessary. More clothing does not equal more options. Smarter clothing does.

Happy Birthday, 47.

I’ve always loved birthdays for the perspective they provide. Like New Year’s Day, birthdays are a chance to celebrate the passage of time, the wisdom gained. But with birthdays, there are no resolutions to shame and guilt ourselves into changing the pesky details of our lives that make us into perfectly imperfect human beings. 

Instead, they’re mile markers we pause and wave to as we pass by, leaving past years and mistakes in the rearview mirror. Goodbye, 46. It’s been real, 45. I don’t miss you a bit, 44.

Still, there’s something to be said for milestones, and I always take a moment to reflect on a meaningful word for the coming year.

Last year’s word was, to be quite honest, grace. I had just had a job change and was feeling tired, worn and anxious about the rocky roads ahead. I’d survived selling my home and packing and moving – but could I survive a transition into another year older? (I did. And I am. And I will.) 

So although I’m feeling wistful about leaving such a strong and capable word behind, I’m excited to welcome a new focus for year forty-seven of my life: Edit.

And on the morning of my forty-seventh birthday, I feel 47. I feel edited and self-aware and comfortable with less. Because less almost always makes room for more.

Fifty-Six Years

There is a tendency to compare our experiences to one another, to help make sense of things, to know the hierarchy of human emotion, to know where we stand, to know how to move forward. To say, I’ve seen my parents married for 56 years, so I know what I’m getting into here. I know what to expect. I know what to anticipate. I know this story, I’ve read this book.

This is a limiting way.

I’m trying not to do that here.

It’s not hard.

My story is different.

Starting Out

Did you know the cost of living in Haiti is the same as the U.S.? That a 2 bedroom apartment averages $1,550? A pair of jeans is $160? A cappuccino is $4.50?

Do you know the average minimum wage?

Sixty cents an hour.

The reasons are murky and politically-charged, neither of which I have a strong stomach for. And so, I say this:

Startling.

—

But there are change makers walking among the soil. There is Preslee and there is Max and there is Skip and there is Riddim and there are dozens, hundreds more.

Their reasons are heartfelt and soul-charged. And so, I say this:

Grateful.

Currently

River Rafting, baths, not much else. There was, however, a short epiphany in the gas station.

Soon, fall. Walks in the park, a slanting sun. Sleeping with the windows open.

We’re ready.

I smile, realizing in that moment I am all too often kinder to complete strangers than my own offspring. Many times it seems I’ve lost my manners somewhere this side of the front door.

This week’s project, then: charitable words. Mercy. Small kindness, is all.

Thoughts On Help

Well, hello there.

I don’t know how to process large moments, grand gestures. In June, my dad turned 80, and he walked into a roomful of 30ish family gathered for his surprise birthday party and, after becoming startled and then grateful, he promptly accepted a bowl of chowder and I wasn't there but instead hid at home to take deep breaths for four, five minutes? Startled-and-then-grateful is a wide range of emotions to experience in a short three second span, and my brain needed some down time to recover.

And here I am again, startled-and-then-grateful.

My brain needs some down time to recover.

—

There is a tendency to accept our experiences as fact, to rely on one frame to tell a story, on one lens to narrate a perspective. This is a limiting way, in the way that we would miss the dance of the kaleidoscope if we looked for just one color. I’m trying not to do that here.

It’s hard.

What I've Been Up To

I haven’t written anything in a long stretch.

It wasn’t intended, never is, the blinking cursor abandoned for house projects like framing basements and a landscaped backyard. Yesterday, I gave up an attempt to patch a hole in my pants in favor of a trip to Swiss Days.

This, the beat of our summer – setting aside productivity; saying yes to something lovely.

Last month, a road trip to my parents to kiss cheeks around a campfire. Spotting familiar faces – my nephew, his wife, first crush – every one of us knowing we can’t recap ten years in a single conversation. (Every one of us trying nonetheless.)

Sticking around, splitting caramel-apples and Navajo tacos with my sister, both of us grown kids with kids.

For My Devoted Sister

Brenda & Monet

Happy Friday! Today I'm the lucky recipient of a ride in the convertible of my devoted sister, of which I happen to have five! Whether your sister is a designer, mother or friend (or all three!), chances are, she’s deserving of good vibes this year.

Check out a few of our highly recommended adventures, along with the chance to see one of our awesome getaways! Stay tuned…