Friday, November 6, 2009

on beginning again...



Iowa Chucks

A very wise person once told me, "It's not who you are on the inside, but what you do that matters."

What are you doing?

My answer? Not enough.

My solution? Start. Somewhere. Anywhere. But start. And then start again.

Friday, September 4, 2009


Still I say, there's a way for us

I rode my bike to work today. It made me feel invincible. Darting between cars, passing other cyclists, avoiding train tracks - I am invincible. I can pedal faster than the other bike commuters, I can save gas and money and burn calories, I can survive the unpredictable traffic, day-dreaming pedestrians, and late summer heat...I can do anything! Until, of course, my tire does catch one of those pesky trolley tracks and I go down, hard, bruising my knee and my ego. When that happens, I hope to pick myself up, dust myself off, and plant myself firmly back on my extremely uncomfortable bicycle seat. Because it's fun.

Number twenty-five: Riding my bike. Because it makes me say, "wheeee" and feel like I'm twelve, but only the good parts of being twelve. Wheeee. Say it with me.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

I'm okay if you get me at a good angle

I'm okay if you get me at a good angle

Number twenty-four: Running. Moving. Being active.

I used to hate running. Hate. More, even, than I hate coffee. And I really hate coffee. The sweat; the unnecessarily short shorts; the heading toward an end point only to turn around and come right back, or, worse yet, circling and circling and circling - just, really, what's the point?

But as I've forced myself to do it more, and as I've done that forcing in the company of very, very good friends, I've started really appreciating the freedom I feel when my feet are pounding the pavement, probably taking years off my knees. A freedom to move. Forward. Even if I'm not going very fast.

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

I do not wish to be pale pink

I do not wish to be pale pink

Number twenty-three: taking my mom kayaking for the first time when she turned 60.

It was awesome. More awesome still was my dad flipping his kayak within the first 15 minutes of the river trip. Into the rapids. And being carried downstream for 5 minutes before having the opportunity to get back in. I wouldn't laugh if he hadn't survived. But he did. Of course, I'm pretty sure that was the first and last kayaking trip of his life. Finally, my mom's end-of-trip tip in the muddiness of the river bank, rounded out the highlights of our fantastic family fun.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Deliciousness takes many forms


Today, that form is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

P.S. Apparently I can't keep up with this blog. Which isn't to say that I'm not grateful for many, many things. Only that I'm busy. And lazy. (Yes, it's possible to be both.) My solution, then, is to just think of one thing - *one* thing a day (and, then, actually post it).

Number twenty-two: peanut butter and jelly. Made with love. I like mine with just a little bit of jelly (raspberry is best), cut diagonally or into four triangles. How about you?

Sunday, July 26, 2009

you spin me right round

because i knew you i have been changed for good

Things that make me infinitely happy, Take One (in no particular order)
1. Riding my bike.
2. Chocolate chip pancakes + fun breakfasts.
3. Pizza. Always pizza.
4. Vineyard City Church worship. It's just the best.
5. The *Once* soundtrack.
6. My best friend.
7. The Wedding Singer, every time I watch it.
8. The relationship between my cat and my dog.
9. Colter's hugs.
10. This:

Number twenty-one: PATIENCE. Because sometimes the rose-colored glasses aren't on the nightstand where you left them. Sometimes you've got to search for them, dig through lots of other odds and ends, and endure several hazy, blue-colored days before picking them up again and forcing them back onto your face.

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

but, still

there will always be room for your hand in mine

So, I've been a little down lately. And since this blog is, well, not about that, I figured I was at least capable of pulling together a list of things that are, still, good. Great, even. It's not real for anyone to be bursting with happiness all the time, and it's definitely not real for me.

But, still, for these things I am grateful. But, still, for these things I consider myself blessed beyond what is deserved. But, still, for these things, I start perking back up again and realizing - hey, it's not so bad.

Number twenty:
a niece or nephew on the way (!!!)
cold water
the Weepies station on Pandora
thinking about my next photo adventure
a new uniball pen with a very fine point
a fridge full of food
freaking fan-tastic friends
legs that can run, arms that can swim, feet that can pedal