3 Day Weekend!

Lately I have been so inspired by anything vintage. I found this great pic here and I am totally obsessed. I think maybe I should buy a big hat.

This weekend my only hope is that I practically live in my bathing suit. Just like I did summer after summer when I was much younger. It will be filled with big, soft blankets stretched out against rocks overlooking the river. Ice cold drinks. Puppies. Sandwiches.

I also plan on attending a cook out every.single.night.

What will you do this weekend?

Go away, Barbie!

"The positioning from the very first commercial was that she

was a person. We never mentioned that she was a doll"
on the marketing of Barbie

This is probably a post my mother will roll her eyes at. Not because she can't see the hidden messages behind Barbie's appearance, but more so because she has a lot of great memories with this doll and more than likely thinks I'm making too big of a deal about this. Mom -- love you and your memories... this just happends to be a reflection of my memories on this unrealistic, superficial and basically a feminists worst nightmare of a doll. Yes, Barbie is a doll, she is not a real person.

First, I remember being in elementary school and our gym class was talking about healthy bodies and Barbie's name came up. I am still inspired by a girl sitting next to me who stood up and shouted about how her body was unrealistic, and that it would be impossible for most of us to look the way that Barbie does. She had lots of Barbie's.... like every Barbie imaginable, yet she was still able to see the pedistal Barbie sits on, which very few of us can really reach. No matter how hard we try.

I think it was middle school when I really starting focusing on my weight. I was dating a guy at the time who used to make fun of me and basically the relationship was a nightmare. I still think about some of the things he said to me, even today. As silly as it may sound, I used to look at Barbie and think Why am I not that pretty. I envied her small thighs and tiny waist, and thought about her figure before nearly every bite of food I consumed. Maybe this is extreme. Maybe most girls don't do this. But I bet many young girls have some one they look up to and try to mimick -- especially with their bodies. It's not all Barbie's fault, the media is mostly to blame, but in my opinion -- Barbie is not at all innocent when it comes to young girls and eating disorders.

As much of a pedistal as I put Barbie on, I remember shaving her head and making my own Lesbian Barbies. I also remember abusing her and pulling off body parts -- which is further explained in a study that the article below talks about. Apparently a lot of little girls abuse their Barbie's. I think I was frustrated in how unrealistic she was altogether, and how she is sometimes noted as the "ideal woman."

Just look at Heidi Montag... she credits most of her plastic surgery to wanting to look like Barbie. Even as an adult, many of us still compare ourselves to this doll.

I am so very against my children growing up and playing with Barbie Doll's, and this has a lot to do with the impact it had on my own self-esteem and love {or lack there of} for my body. Is this really fair? To deprive my children of a doll that is more famous than Madonna? I'm not sure. But what I do know is this: Barbie is created to be a sex symbol. Let's face it -- how many of our brother's stole our naked Barbie's and got their first view of the female body while hiding away in their rooms. It's no wonder so many guys love blondes with big boobs and a tiny waist.

I'm not trying to make skinny blondes feel bad about themselves in any way. Please understand that first and foremost. What I am saying is this: Barbie does not reflect the majority of women and their bodies in this country. She is underweight, totally obsessed with cute outfits, and above all - disposable.

This is not the picture that I want to portray to my children. So as long as I have a say in it, they will not grow up playing with Barbie Dolls -- they will grow up knowing that their bodies are just as they should be, and they don't need an eating disorder to get a man to love them. That is the number one thing I want to teach them. And also myself. That the size of your clothes does not equally measure the size of your heart and of your unique and beautiful spirit.

Today I challenge you to join me on this journey of loving our bodies. Fat, curvey, skinny... all of us have value and all of us are worth loving.

Read this article which debates Barbie's roll as either a Dumb Blonde or a Diehard Feminist.

Which side are you on?

"Spider Legs"

So... I need some advice. bad. Like, really bad. I love my dreadies so much and I even like to call them my little Spider Legs, but let's face it --

they need maintenance like nobodies buisness.

I haven't been palm rolling like I should... and I have curly hair so it's def. knotting... just not in a cute way. I put rubber bands at the tips 2 nights ago, because the ends weren't tightening.

please, please, please!!!

Cyber world... I need your advice on how to get these dreadies looking good again!

{k thanks.}

somebodies baby.

So I was driving to meet a client yesterday, and stopped at the same light I stop at every day looking at the same man I see everyday, holding his sign "Hungry, anything will help". I typically don't carry around cash, but when I do I always try to give them something. Even when people mock me and say they're just going to spend it on beer.

Well, I actually made eye contact with this man and felt my heart breaking. I sat there imagining his childhood and his home life. How he is somebodies baby. Their Child. I couldn't stop thinking about this man and why he was on the streets. I woke up this morning and he is still on my mind.

The path I take to get to my favorite spot on the river passes a circle of trees under an overpass. Amongst these trees is a soaken matress surrounded by fourties and wet clothes. Someone's bed. I haven't ever seen the dweller of this secret hide-away, but I always check to make sure that he's still there.

When I was a little girl, my family used to take me to participate in a program called CARITAS where homeless families stayed at our church for a week. I may have abandoned all beliefs from this particular church, but this program was one thing they did right. Some of my best childhood memories are sitting next to people on their dirty sleeping bags, listening to their stories and asking questions about how it felt to sleep outisde in the winter. I remember wanting to bring all of them home with me.

My point is this: Next time you see someone holding a battered sign and wearing worn and dirty clothes, look past the assumptions our culture seems to make about this population and remember they are somebodies baby.

Even if they do spend the money on beer - they are still human and searching for acceptance, understanding and love.

{photo credit}

no particular subject -

Don't you wish you could just climb into this photograph?

I spent yesterday on a soft blanket by the river. It was so peaceful and quiet and inspiring to watch as the water rushed past me with such incredible force.

I am so connected to water. I cannot wait to travel back to that rock and lay in the sunshine day after day this summer. Watching clouds and listening to the river. Laughing with friends and enjoying the simplicity of an afternoon away.

Hope your weekend was just as marvelous ;)

{photo credit}

Oh, Arizona......

I don't normally use this space to vent about politics, but this is something that has been on my mind for quite some time. This morning I woke up and turned on the TV. It just happen to be a documentary with Spanish subtitles, and something kept me watching. The documentary is called Which Way Home and I haven't been able to think of much else today other than what I saw in this film.

I'm a sucker for documentaries. But this was more heart wrenching than I bargained for this morning and as I watched with tears swelling in my eyes, I decieded that people need to let go of their fears and stop judging people when they don't really know who they are and what they need.

There has been a lot said about Arizona and their new immigration law lately. Heck, there has been a lot of discussion about illegal immigration for a while now. A lot of hate and rejection and misunderstanding. And most of all, a hell of a lot of fear.

I can't say what I feel is a completely fair answer to our current illegal immigrant situation. All I know is what we have now isn't working. At all. It's a public display of racism and fear tactics and punishing a group of people without providing an individual face or even a name. Because that may make it a little too real. People may start to care. And we can't have that, can we?

A lot of people come to America because they want to provide a life for their family. Many of the children in this documentary wanted to reunite with parents, sisters or family members, and some of them just wanted to work for a little while so that they could earn money for school. I felt embarrassed as I watched a little girl crying because she imagined the US as a place where she could smile and be happy and be reunited with her sisters. And I have the actual nerve to complain about my job.

My dogs live better than these children.

My heart literally broke as I watched bodies being taken home to desperate mother's. Bodies of dead children, who did not make it through the desert and were so decayed that their parents weren't able to even look at their bodies. These children left their homes for a better life, and when they got to America it was not at all what they expected.

One boy turned himself in at the border, because he witnessed a mother and daughter being raped in a boxcar he was traveling in. By 15 men. Child after child told stories of police officers beating them and stealing their money. They left so full of hope, but day by day they were even more beat down. Some even regretted being born. Children shouldn't be treated like this. Nor should anyone. It's sick.

I felt a lump in my throat as I watched how brave they all tried to appear. Like it was no big deal that they could die at any moment. One man said that he felt sad when he saw children trying to cross the boarder, because he was so afraid himself that he couldn't imagine being that young and that far from their families. Two boys talked about how they saw some kids killed right in front of them, just by standing on top of the train and not ducking in time to miss the top of the tunnels. A lot of kids are run over by trains and many are lucky to survive with missing legs or arms. But they still take on the journey, even knowing the risks.

How can peoples hearts be so hardened that they can't see that something needs to change. The current system puts so many barriers between immigrants and legal citizenship. What would you do if your family was suffering and needed food. Clean water. Shoes. One boy wanted to make some money so that he could rescue his mother from his abusive step father. I can't say that I wouldn't do the same. I just hope in that situation I could be half as brave and half as determined.

We all have our differences, but as humans we are basically 99% the same. We all want to be loved, to learn, to have freedom. Nobody wants to see their families suffer, and the only hope many of these people have is the idea of a better life in America.

These are people. They aren't animals and they aren't monsters. More importantly, children are dying or being raped or becoming drug addicts because of their dream. The American Dream. The idea that if they were just given a chance, things could be better. They could grow up and become doctors. Help their communities. Rescue their families. Make a difference.

That's a lot weighing on a child's heart. To be a hero. To risk your life at just the possibility of finding something better.

I am disappointed in our country. And I really don't mind offending anyone, because whoever can see these people suffering and turn away or hate them or say they should be thrown in jail doesn't have my respect. Actually, I feel very sorry for people who are unable to love without conditions.

I choose to love these people. I don't even know them, but I feel connected to their spirits as human beings. I wish I could go to Mexico and hug them and take my hands and wipe the tears off of their faces. I want to tell them that it will be alright. That they won't suffer for long. That things will change, because they deserve to be happy.

I want to tell them that soon we will all wake up, and that this was just a very very bad dream.

shh... don't tell!

this was me today around 1:30....

.....and it was both very necessary and very delicious.

omg hurry up 5 o'clock!

My momma's home from DC! I wish that I was able to visit her while she was there for her class... but I chose the beach instead. Sigh, I heart you DC :)

{she took this one for ME! :)}

Enjoy your weekend & be sure to get plenty of sunshine and lots and lots of rest!

Pretend.

Sometimes I pretend that I live in a tribe. In the early morning I wake up in my hut made of mud and branches and woven leaves and stretch my arms up into the heavens. I stretch until it takes my breath and I turn my face upward towards the bright sun. Our life giver. Provider.

All of our huts are in one giant circle and in the center is a big bond fire that we light at dusk. During the day we spend time gathering fruits and mushrooms and forest plants, and some fish in the nearby stream and shoot arrows way up into the sky towards something to eat. We only take what we need. And we use everything. Our tribe knows nothing about packaged meats or grocery stores or big, tall buildings made up of metal. We have heard stories from our ancestors, but none of us really believe that people once lived that way.

The witch doctor paints our faces with red clay and children run past us, beating their chests and screaming like little spider monkey's. We stand in the cool water and splash our faces and clean our clothes. We pick out tiny little pebbles and make necklaces and earrings. Some weave baskets while others make headbands out of wild flowers.

We are encompassed in the forest and the only ones who enter the tribe are those who want to be there. Who have forgotten the complexities of prescription medications and hair dye. Who realize that nobody ever really wins in a war. And that all anyone ever wants in this life is love.

At dusk we light the fire and cook our meal. We all share it. We cuddle up around in a cirle and my child is on your lap and yours is playing with my hair, because they are their own people and don't really belong to us anyway. We tell stories and laugh and play. We are a family, all different yet mostly the same.

When the ambers dye down and it becomes so dark that you cannot even see your hands in front of you, we retreat to our huts. We sleep on hammocks and look up at the sky. The moon is so big that you can see the Man in it, if you just look close enough. And the sky is so clear that if you reach out, you can almost touch the stars.

We thank the Earth for all that it has provided, and fall asleep to a cool wind and the sound of crickets and owels and the slow steady pace of the stream beside us. We sleep knowing that we are safe, that we are loved, and that we are at one with eachother.

{photo credit}

unless...

I feel like I have been gone for a very long time. I have been rushing from training to training and relaxing in between at Corolla Beach. But this space brings me back to my center and reminds me of the importance in reflection. The importance in sitting back and looking at who we are as people and what we have done and will do to make a difference.

Writing is so important to me that when I don't have the chance to sit down and type... I miss it. I miss the emotions that it stumbles upon and the way it forces me to look at things in a different way. So, it is good to be back.

I have been away from home for several days, and it felt so good to sleep in my own bed last night with my two puppies that I have missed so much. It was nice laying there, listening to the rain, as Samson and Pete curled up so close to me that we ended up in one giant dog pile. I love sleeping in a pile. I love being a part of a family with them and with my husband and our tiny loft with so much personality. We talked, Sean and I, and we may stay here just a little longer.

Lately I have been a little sad. But nothing will change if I sit and dwell on things without doing something - anything - to make it even a little better. I am starting with our loft. There is so much that can be done with it, but I have neglected to do so because I have been so wrapped up in buying our own home. The loft needs some love. I think tonight I will start by re-arranging our bedroom and may move from room to room looking for insirpation. I may even splash a little color on the walls. It needs a definite pick me up, and so do I.

I am unhappy at work, and although I should be thankful to have a job in the first place, I find myself bored and useless. Like a paper pusher. I continue to submit writing sample after writing sample, and some day soon I will be discovered and it will be a nice little oasis for myself. I've also been looking for jobs in my feild that will make me happy and allow me to do more. We spend so much time at work, and sitting in an office without windows just isn't for me. So I'm going to change that.

I have just been thinking so much about this lately that it's been consuming me. The need to change and re-arrange and re-invent myself has totally taken over everything else. I feel inspired at the possibilities that are before me, and the simple fact that by this time next year I have no idea where I will end up. I need that little bit of not knowing to uplift my spirits.

beach babes -

There's no combination of words

I could put on the back of a postcard

No song that I could sing

But I can try for your heart

Our dreams, and they are made out of real things

Like a, shoebox of photographs

With sepiatone loving

Love is the answer,

At least for most of the questions in my heart

Like why are we here? And where do we go?

And how come it's so hard?

It's not always easy and

Sometimes life can be deceiving

I'll tell you one thing it's always better when we're together

{Jack Johnson}

Tomorrow I'm going to rush through work and then I'm headed to the beach. I can't tell you how excited I am to feel the salt in my hair and the hot sand burning my feet as I rush to lay out my blanket. I want to nap in the morning while I listen to the waves rushing in and out. Gossiping with my best friends and dreaming that this weekend will never end.

I need the beach. I am drawn to water as if it's my beginning. My alpha and my omega. My inspiration and sense of freedom and belonging that pulls me out of reality and allows me to live in my imaginary world, uninterrupted.

I even bought a new bathing suit.

This weekend will be magical and it will be hard to focus tomorrow until 5 o'clock... maybe I'll sneak out early. I've just got to get to the beach...

xoxo

Rain Dance -

Don't threaten me with love, baby. Let's just go walking in the rain. {billie holiday}

I am a being of Heaven and Earth, of thunder and lightning, of rain and wind, of the galaxies. {eden ahbez}

I believe in running through the rain and crashing into the person you love and having your lips bleed on each other. {billy bob thornton}

I love the rain. I want the feeling of it on my face. {katherine mansfield}

I think it's really important to use your hands and get close to materials. To be up close to real things like rain and mud; to have contact with nature. {robin day}

Hope you're enjoying the rain today! Breathe it in and feel refreshed!

all photos above found on google

Sleepy Head Thoughts

How can you prove whether at this moment we are sleeping, and all our thoughts are a dream; or whether we are awake, and talking to one another in the waking state?

{Plato}

I think that I want to buy a house. With a big backyard and a porch and a hammock hung up in an old oak tree. Still in the city, but room for a big garden. Rocking chairs to sit in and drink sweet tea and gossip and listen to thunderstorms.

Or do I want a loft. Trendy and comfortable. No walls to even out the space between us. Big windows to look upon the city and daydream until dusk.

...still house/loft hunting...

Am I really old enough to be thinking about this? To consider a baby's room when choosing our perfect little nest. Our own place to clean and hang our memories up on the wall. To paint each room in vibrant colors. Extra room for our loved ones to cuddle up in when visiting. This is what I've always dreamed about... ever since I was little and playing house with friends down the street.

{photo credit}

home again.

I feel like it's been ages since I've blogged. Not too happy about that. But it feels good to be back. I have been so busy lately that it's nice to be at a point where I can stop & just relax. I turned in my portfolio on Friday and my fingers are crossed that I at least get some feedback - good or back. I've also decided to submit 1 or 2 articles per week to local newspapers and online magazines... once something is published my portfolio will rock!

Mother's Day. I did not get to see my beautiful momma yesterday, but I did get to talk to her on the phone. Today she is on her way to DC for some classes that she is taking. She loves school. This was the very first Mother's Day that I have not been able to kiss her pretty little face... and that was very sad. It made me feel a little too grown up and distant from the woman who has done so much for me throughout my life.

When I was younger, my mom & I would sit in the mud and make mud pies. I remember thinking how cool that was - that she was willing to get in the dirt with me and play. I was a sneaky little girl, and she always had to check my pockets before I came inside... they were usually hiding frogs, worms or insects of some sort. But I do remember swimming in our pool in the summertime, and she would be working in the yard and would surprise me with a big toad she had found. She used to put them right into the pool so that I could watch them swim. She always fostered my love for animals and facination with living things.

She has always been the one I cry out for when I'm scared or in pain. I used to have these nightmares that were so scary and felt so real that they took my voice. I was literally too scared to speak. Have you ever had a dream like that? I used to run into her room and jump inbetween her and my dad and she made me feel so safe. I felt like nothing could get me, because my momma was there to keep me safe.

When I was in the hospital last month, I got really sick because I was taking a lot of pain medicine and wasn't able to eat solid food. After a while I got tired of jello and stopped eating altogether. Every morning I woke up and waited for her to come. I knew she would be there early, and would not leave me by myself for long. One day I got really sick, that was probably the worst day for me. This may be too much information... but basically the pain medicine was making me nauseous because I was taking it on an empty stomach and I threw up. Everywhere. My husband & dad instantly ran for cover, but my mom was right there with me... covered in it. I remember thinking "this is love." I mean, to sit there and comfort me even when it was causing her discomfort... that's incredible. She spent the night with me that night because I was afraid to be alone, and never once complained about being tired, uncomfortable or bored. I will never forget that as long as I live.

So these were the thoughts I was remembering yesterday as I woke up and streched my arms to the sunlight, pulling my body up and out of bed. The first Mother's Day without her. I wondered what she was doing and hoped she was happy and felt as blessed as I do.

Sean & I took a walk to the river and sat down near the bank watching turtles and families of ducklings. People passed by through the rapids on their kyaks and canoe's and it felt nice to feel the sun shining on my back. We didn't stay long, but I love sharing that time with my husband. I love being in nature and so close to the water, and I love that every once in a while he will join me. Even if it's hot and he's still tired from the night before.
 

We came home and made margaritas and ate cheese and crackers. It was fabulous. Our puppies napped beside us as we watched a movie and it was such a great feeling to be with my family. My new family, that was still blooming and growing by the minute.

I thought Samson had ruined my garden last week. He loves to dig his nose in the dirt and no matter how hard I try I can't keep him out of it. However, I looked in my planter this weekend and saw little peppers sprouting up from the ground. Ahh.. such a proud, proud moment.

 

We gathered our things and piled up in the car and headed to my inlaws for lunch. We grilled out and spent time talking and laughing and enjoying every second we had together. We all sat around the living room sharing stories and laughing some more, and by the time we looked at a clock it was already time for dinner. I love when that happends, when you're having so much fun that time passes without even feeling it. So we grilled out again. We love to grill and Sean is an awesome cook!
 

This weekend was so relaxing and although it passed too quickly, was a great reminder of how important my family is to me. I love my mother and can't wait to see her once she returns from DC. I will give her a big hug and tell her how proud I am of her, for following her dream accomplishing her goals. She will do great.

 

How was your weekend?

good things to come.

Be yourself. Above all, let who you are, what you are, what you believe, shine through every sentence you write, every piece you finish.

{John Jakes}

So I am still unable to blog at work… which I think is totally wrong because in this field {social work} it is absolutely necessary to be creative. But I intend to trick the system! Right now I am sitting at my desk typing away about an amazing thing that has happened. If you are reading this now, it is because I copied my word document onto my blog for your viewing pleasure. Deep breath.

I have been vigorously writing away this week. Searching for inspiration that seems so obvious, yet at times is so hard to find. But this is my passion. To write. And I have been working all week long on a journalism portfolio that I intend to turn in to a local newspaper tomorrow. Here it is folks: my first attempt.

I hope that I’m good enough. It’s not even about the pay right now because I have a steady job, but what I really want is to see my work published. To know that I followed a dream and that it’s slowly becoming a reality. Just thinking that one day I will be able to write for a living excites me to no end. And everyone needs a little hope now and then. Something to look forward to.

And if they don’t like my work, too bad for them. Because I have enough passion inside of me to try and try again. Somebody will look through my portfolio and think she’s just what we need. This is my journey, and if nothing else I have articles to share and more and more experience every single day that my pen touches a blank page.

What’s your passion? I hope that once you recognize it, you follow it for the remainder of your life. I hope it gives you freedom and hope and tingles in your belly.

{photo credit}

where's the love?

Every dew-drop and rain-drop had a whole heaven within it.

{Henry Wadsworth Longfellow}

So today was a rude awakening. I was walking to work, inspiration was flowing so freely that my heart raced and tears swelled in both my eyes - and I could not wait to come here. To this sacred space.

I sat down at my desk, closed the door, heated my apple fritter and logged onto the internet. I anxiously typed in my blog address and was ungratefully greeted by a message stating that my company had blocked all blogs and personal websites {nevermind that they still allow facebook and twitter}. I closed the tab and literally re-opened the webpage three or four times. I could look, but I could not write. It was actually painful to read beautiful words and realize that I had been silenced by corporate america. No commenting. No blogging. No sweet moment of bliss where I could spill my feelings onto this page. Honestly, it made me mad,

My plan is to return to work tomorrow, say a little prayer to the "blog gods" and try to access my special place again. If that doesn't work, I'll probably pout and rush home at 5 o'clock to finally gush about my day.

So what I wanted to share with you this morning is my favorite poem. I remember reciting the words over and over while playing with the grass and flowers in my backyard as a kid. Each word dug deep into my soul and even at a young age, made my heart want to explode because the words were so perfect. I think there were a few times when I layed on my back, looking up at the clouds, and let the words flow from my tongue as tears raced down my cheeks. This poem was my first example of beauty that can only be found in words. This poem comes back to me each time I see something unique, blooming and natural. It is truly a love affair that I have with this poem,

so here goes...

My Shadow, by Robert Louis Stevenson.--

I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,

And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.

He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;

And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.

The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow--

Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;

For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball,

And he sometimes goes so little that there's none of him at all.

He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play,

And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.

He stays so close behind me, he's a coward you can see;

I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!

One morning, very early, before the sun was up,

I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;

But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,

Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.

~

{photo credit}

a house on the beach.

I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

{T. S. Eliot}

Admittedly, I was a little bit of a downer yesterday. But today has changed me a little. This morning was the first time since my surgery that the weather has been nice enough to walk to work. I love the energy that comes from the 20 minutes of daydreaming before arriving at my desk, in my typical nine to five stance. I also love stopping at Starbuck's for a yummy breakfast.

There is a bridge that I cross on my way which overlooks the Jame's River. I am drawn to the water, and every now and then I will stop for a moment and step down towards the bank and just be. Now that the weather is warm, the bridge is flocked with fishermen and the river carries boats and kayaks and dogs playing fetch.  She is so beautiful in the morning.

Walking today I breathed in the James. She smelled like the ocean, and I could smell the people fishing and some one grilling their morning catch. I closed my eyes and pretended I was on a dock somewhere, hanging my toes in the water and letting my hair dance in the salty air. I began to remember an old dream: to live on a beach some where.

I imagined a small house with wooden floors and a sandy front porch. Every morning I would step outside and drink coffee in my bare feet while I watched the waves come in and roll back out to sea. Then I would probably lay in my hammock with my lap top and write. I would write the latest resteraunt review, an article for the local paper or maybe start a novel. After that, it would be absolutely necessary to strip off my clothes and spend time with the ocean. Maybe I would even spend a few hours surfing.

Once the sun had drained my energy and my eyes were burning from the salt, I would wrap up in a thick towel and fix a sandwich. Drink sweet tea. Nap in the hammock. I would do this until the sunshine began to sink into the ocean. Then I would probably have a glass of wine and dance on the shore.

The night would bring in a cool breeze and I would wrap myself up in a blanket. I would hurry to get my flashlight so that I could spy on the crabs as they ran across the sand. I would close my eyes, and fall asleep to the sweet lullaby of waves crashing and crickets chirping. My hair still salty and my skin sun soaked, I would be exactly where I needed to be.

{photo credit}

Inspiration.

Campus Summer 1970

(photo: Brian Jasper (ENGG 1971-72)

Today I am sitting in a cold office, staring aimlessly into a computer and wondering about my purpose. Why am I here. What am I doing. How long until I can stand up, walk out of corporate america, and never look back.

I wish nothing more than to be in a field right now. Warm winds seeping through my hair and the sun shining so bright that I have to close my eyes a little just to see clearly. A nice warm nap in nature. Grass tickling my arms and feet and gazing out into a never-ending quilt of daisies and sunflowers and other wild things. Freckles on my nose. A calming silence mixed with birds singing to one another. Watching clouds pass while painting pictures in my mind.

But... I am here. In an office with no windows. I feel trapped and claustrophobic and that there is no way out. I need to be inspired. Fingers crossed that a writing career is near in my future, because I don't know how much more of this office I can stand.

Patio Bars & Gardens

{my backyard, aka the James}

You can't always sit in your corner of the forest and wait for people to come to you... you have to go to them sometimes. {Winnie the Pooh}

This weekend passed by too quickly. I tend to wake up on Monday mornings and think back to work already? It's too easy to hit the snooze button over and over again, roll over and snuggle with your pillows. Every morning I wake up and rush to get ready.... so that I have an extra hour to go back to sleep. It may seem impracticle to some, but that's when my best dreams come.

This weekend was full of patio bars, warm weather and lots and lots of laughter. I spent most of my Saturday at Arts in the Park, eating more food and drinking more lemonaid than anyone should be allowed. It was so nice seeing my parents and laughing with them. All day I searched for glass beads to put into my dreads, but the only ones I found were $12. each. no thank you. But I love spending time with my community and sharing stories with the vendors was my absolute favorite part. We have a lot of talent in Richmond :)

This was the first time I have seen my dad since he returned from Haiti, and there is one story that I have to share with you. No joke, I instantly started crying when he told it.

He said that he was standing outside when school let out and there were tables and tables of food. All of the children ran up to him and the rest of their team and pointed to their mouths. They were hungry. My dad asked the pastor why the children were not able to eat, and he responded by saying that all of that food was for sale. So even though they were starving and there was food surrounding them, they could not eat because they didn't have any money. And those selling the food couldn't give it away, because they also had to earn a living and feed their families.

So my dad asked if he could buy the children some food. All of them {there were around 30}. He purchased a whole table of food for $10. Are you serious... that's roughly two beers here. That wasn't all he did. He then went around to all of the women selling the food and handed them each a dollar bill. That dollar was able to feel them and their families for an entire week. Doesn't that make you want to just empty your pockets for these people?

Unbelievable. After that we went out to eat and I ate so much food that I wanted to explode. It doesn't really seem fair that we are able to over eat while children and families are starving around the world... and even in our own neighborhoods.

So ever since that story I have been thinking about how to help people who are less fortunate. Maybe volunteering at a food kitchen or something. I don't know. More on that to come.

A huge highlight of this weekend was finally picking up my Sub Irrigation Planter and lots and lots and lots of potting mix. I planted wildflowers, tomatoes, peas, lettuce, red peppers, cilantro and basil. The farmer's market down the street is finally open, and I am excited to buy local and also try my luck at planting my own food from home.

Being in the community helps me to remember that I am a part of something bigger. I like meeting new people and learning from them. So many of my friends are ultra conservative, so it's nice to venture out and find some fellow libs! Trust me, Arts in the Park was jam packed with tattoos and dreads... not to mention many artists used recycled materials. I love the idea of taking something old and turning it into something new and beautiful.

Most of my nights were spent outside on either our roof top deck or on a patio at one of our favorite bars. I love that it is getting warm enough to wear sundresses and skirts and the simple fact that warm weather makes everyone seem happier.

Here are some pictures of my indoor garden... I am just learning so I have my fingers and toes crossed that it all works out. My dog Samson likes eating the dirt... so that needs to stop. Now.

Here is a {very poor quality} picture of my indoor garden so far. It's in front of an old elevator shaft in our loft and directly underneath several sky lights.

My monkey man growing some basil:

Peas...

I really really really hope this works. I sort of feel like I'm over my head with this... especially wandering around Lowe's this weekend debating over and over on potting mix and what veggies I wanted/would be able to grow. But I think I can do this.

I can't wait to see more little sprouts poking their heads through!

{photo credit}