Blah, Blah, Blog.

I haven’t posted a new blog entry for awhile and, despite the purpose of this blog being to journal and organize photos in a logical fashion for my reference, rather than to convey interesting or valuable information to others, sometimes my innate and persistent propensity for public approval gets the best of me.  A few nice comments from even a couple of people leads me to feel like I need to post, and worse, come up with a decent post, in order to keep your interest or approval.  So, each day for the last few days, I’ve found myself thinking, “I should blog today.” And each day I think, “I don’t have anything to say.  I haven’t taken any photos.  I don’t feel like writing anything, and, as much as I love capturing moments in “film,” I don’t feel like taking any pictures.” 

I knew I was really crazy when, about to cut into the chicken pot pie that I made for dinner on one of these chilly summer days we’ve been having in these parts, I stopped, and thought, “wait, I should grab the camera and take a picture for my blog!”  Maybe there’s nothing wrong with that, but, it doesn't sit right with me.  I want to take pictures because I am moved or inspired or experimenting, rather than set out to take photos for purposes of the blog.  Cart before the horse, or “blog” before the blog type of thing. 

But, I did take a photo.

So, I'll share it.  It tasted even better than it looked!  The recipe is in Pioneer Woman Cooks or here.  Highly recommend it.  And, it’s super easy, and still super, with a premade pie crust.  I used up a generic brand pie crust that had been in my freezer since I swore off of premade piecrusts years ago! (WARNING:  Do not take this as an endorsement of using premade pie crusts for anything else…ever…unless you are really sure about it.  (My favorite recipe for pie crust: 2 cups flour, 1 cup chopped up butter, 4 T cold water, 3 T sugar, tsp salt) (leave out the sugar if using it for something savory!)

As I dug into my half of the chicken pot pie, I thought (after thinking, "mmm, this is so good!"), “Why on earth am I feeling like, by failing to write, photo, or post, I am effectively cutting class or neglecting my responsibility?"  How delusional and egotistical, and, how plain crazy of me to fall into the same trap I too often set for myself.  See, I took up this whole "blog" thing with the deliberate objective of doing it without regard to the fact that anyone may or may not read what I write.  It was basically a personal convenience.  A way to collect photos and words in an easy to find place, and, enable family and friends to keep up with me a bit.  And yet, just a few months into it, it seems that something that I made such an intentional, concerted effort to do solely for myself and for my own benefit, so quickly turned into yet another endeavor in which I am seeking or motivated by, success or public approval.  I found myself feeling that I should blog, rather than that I wanted to blog.  Sometimes "should" things are good things that need doing, but other times, "should" things are things that are based on doing for the wrong reasons. 

This whole blogging thing was intended to be something I was doing for myself, for my own enjoyment. It was my big chance to show myself that I could pour time into something that I was doing just for me, and without a care about what anyone thought of the way I think, the way I write, the product I produce, the photos I take, who I am.

Suffice it to say, I have been second guessing my foray into blogging.  Making things worse, in the days that followed, I fortuitously landed on a the most lovely, perfect little blog of Flower Patch Farmgirl.  I’d heard of "blogs" and "blogging" before I started, but never really knew much about blogging, and only called my blog a blog because I was using the free template and storage space from blogger.com.   I never realized there were blogs like mine, but far prettier, more interesting, and more sophisticated (ah, such is the story of  life!), that people actually follow by the masses, and that I would actually find myself envying.  I'd checked in on the The Pioneer Woman from time to time, and taken quite a liking to her and her recipes.  But, I've never really thought of her as a "blog," but rather a a professional businesswoman with an amazing and fun website.  

Flower Patch Farmgirl showed me a whole world of blogging that is just lovely.  Flower Patch’s blog is beeeeutiful.  I love this farmgirl and I am inspired and awed by her blog and the stories she tells.  It's everything I would want my blog to be!

The poppies have gone wild.  I think Flower Patch Farm Girl would like this pic.  I do!

She had some links on her site to blogs that she apparently follows.  In a very short period of time, I discovered a handful of blogs with words and photos and ideas that I wished I had strung together.

Reading these other blogs—links to which I have now posted on my website—brought out the competitive tendencies that have both served me well and harmed me greatly over the years.  I jumped from one blog to another, and for a moment, found myself determined to figure out how to add "buttons" and “badges” to my site, to buy Photoshop and spend time editing my photos, to tag and organize my photos into neat little categories wrapped up in adorable little photo buttons (visit Flower Patch Farm Girl  or Enjoying the Small Things and you'll see what I mean), to get my name in the “Best Mom Bloggers” (albeit I'm not a mom). 

The honey bees were also going wild in the few hours of warmth the other day.

After the two hours spent figuring out how to make buttons and favicons, I escaped from the grip of the blog world and realized that, my competitive and ambitious spirit aside, focusing the sort of time and energy on my blog that earns followers, accolades, sponsors, just isn't going to happen.  For starters, I don’t have the passion or desire to make the time for blog beautification and to give what it takes to compete in the blog world!  (Key phrase, "make the time", meaning prioritize and move blogging to the top.  I don't believe in or like the "don't have time" lingo. If we're honest, it's about where we want to spend our time, not how much we have or how busy we are.) 

For a few moments, I tried to make excuses for myself not entering "the race" so I would feel less inadequate.  I speculated that these awesome bloggers (turns out most of the really good ones are by moms) hired someone to design their websites or help them out, they had money or people that helped them, they didn’t have professional jobs and had a lot more free time on their hands (then I acknowledged they were in fact moms), they had backgrounds in writing, photography, or webdesign. 

Then, I buttoned up, was honest with myself, and acknowledged that these gals who weave together these fabulous photos, and words, and useful bits of information quite likely have no greater time, money, or benefits than do I.  They do, however, have a passion, purpose, and commitment to it that I don't have. (From the looks of it, they also have inclinations towards crafts and scrapbooking, the antithesis of yours truly).

If I were entirely practical, rational and selfless, then, in light of the far superior blogs out there that effectively say things I would like to say far better than I would say them, I would conclude it is an irresponsible use of bandwith and time to continue my blog.  But, I actually do like "blogging" (or as I think of it, keeping some thoughts and photos in one place for organizational purposes) even though, I am not going to win any awards, be able to put a "Best Mom Blogger" or a syndicated "BlogHer" logo on my page, much less paid advertisements of trendy, hip little businesses.  Some might say I’m a bit of a Type A, so it is hard to just carry on with my blog, resigned to be mediocre and unknown, after this newfound knowledge of the blog world; but, I am determined to do so.  So, all of this is to say that I am retaking my pledge to blog only when I want to, to take pictures because the subject inspires me, and to string together words, photos, and music on this blog as if (or, perhaps more accurately, "even though”) no one is watching, reading, or caring.  Posts may be infrequent, photos will continue to be amateur, but hopefully show improvement.  Most importantly, given my personal goals at this period in my life, my heart will be in it.

Now, then.  I am SO excited to share with you some of the links to super fun, usually inspiring, and often informative, little blogs from women with whom I am greatly impressed and enamored.   Enjoy!  And, I won’t for one moment blame you or be disappointed if you abandon my blog to follow one of these.  I feel comfortable letting these lovely ladies speak for me!

Ever Feel Like a Plastic Bag?

Do you ever feel like a plastic bag, drifting through the wind, wanting to start again?

Me too.  (And if you don't recognize the preceding line, along with those to follow, let me remind you of their orignal author, Katy Perry).

Sometimes, I even feel like a plastic bag that is being chased by a dog.

Do you ever feel, feel so paper thin, like a house of cards, one blow from caving in?


But, so the song goes, "there's a spark in you.  You just gotta ignite the light and let it shine. 
Just own the night like the Fourth of July." As you shoot across the sky, let your colors burst.

You don't have to feel like a waste of space.  You're original. You cannot be replaced.
If you only knew what the future holds. 
After a hurricane...

Comes a rainbow.

Maybe the reason why all the doors are closed is so you could open one that leads you to a perfect road.  

It's always been inside of you.  Come on; show 'em what you're worth.

Familiar words?  They're from Katy Perry's song Firework.  I suspect that this song, in its unedited version, will get a lot of play as July 4 approaches.  So much so that we’ll probably all be sick of it.  Yet, some of the lyrics in this song really resonate with me, and I suspect they probably resonate with many.  So, before that time comes when this is the most overplayed song of the summer season, I thought I'd capitalize on it.  I’ve added the song to my playlist for Life Half Full.  You can also find the song/video (which is great), along with full lyrics here. 

Now, please, go fly, boom, and ignite, all you fellow plastic bags out there!

Today's addition to the playlist, of course, is Katy Perry's "Firework."

Hot Magenta.

Ever colored with a kid who wants to use hot magenta for the lawn, robin's egg blue for the little boy's flesh, and the puppy gets colored anything but brown, black, white, or golden?  As the grown-up, my tendency would be to suggest they pull a "more appropriate" color out of that box of 64.

Headed out to jump rope in thongs? Child, what are you thinking?



Last weekend when playing with my wholesome, innocent, and honest niece and nephew, I realized my sometimes unfortunate and out-of-place grown up "sensibilities," and was reminded of the beauty, pleasure, and good sense of simply living life with a child's heart.  I saw the genius of hot magenta grass and a little boy whose skin was colored robin's egg blue.  I witnessed the joy of jumping rope in flip flops.

I love the way children can be present, honest, stripped down, and in the moment.  The way they can make mud pies, build sand castles, or string together beads as if it were the last, best, and most important activity on earth.  Fully absorbed, and with confidence that they are making a masterpiece. The way that they find more joy in discovering a little bug or a green worm crawling on the sidewalk than they do in playing with a fifty-dollar art set or a new scooter.  They are as good at seeing everything in nothing as we adults are good at seeing nothing in everything.  Overly dramatic or poetic?  Perhaps.  But, in many ways true.  And, after all, what's wrong with a little poetry from time to time?

After accepting that my body--having been traced, not drawn freehand--looks like this, I had the good sense to hire the same artist for a pedicure.

Keeping my promise to get more pedicures!

And, in all seriousness, this pedicure was the best I've ever had.  I will do it again!

A girl of many talents and many loves.  A girl after my own heart...

It was a good weekend.

A weekend that reminded me to make dandelion wishes:

To take evening swims despite super chilly waters (or at least to take photos of Nana and the kids doing it)...

To dance on tables at sunset.  (Dance on tables like a child, that is.  Eeks, that could have come across terribly wrong!)


To do what I like to do, all by myself, for hours on end, simply because I want to.

To play, not simply practice.

To enjoy the perfect thumbnail moon that watches over it all.

And to never question the use (or wearing) of hot magenta.

While we try to teach our children all about life,
Our children teach us what life is all about.
~Angela Schwindt

What I Learned In the Closet.

The other day I was standing in my closet looking for something to wear when I realized that if my closet could speak, it might whisper "identity crisis."  Over the years, and to this day, I have liked the idea of having a style.  A defining sense of fashion.  Like Kate Middleton, she has a favorite designer, and a fairly consistent style (one that I love, by the way).  J.Lo, she does it up differently, but still, she has a fairly unmistakeable style.  Lady Gaga, check.  Jackie O, certainly. 

Every once in a while I get this idea that I need to, I should, figure out my style.  I want to be one of those people who has a style, who is sufficiently in-touch with herself and sense of style to be selective and decisive when it comes to fashion.  Having a style--indicative, I've thought, of self-awareness and confidence.  I want that.

So, one day, Inspired by a Ralph Lauren spread in a magazine, I'll brazenly decide that I will always and only dress like I could be in a Ralph Lauren ad (errrr, that the clothes I wear could be in such an ad).  Next thing you know, I'll see someone at a function who is all chic bohemian style, but clean and classy boheminan, and I make a mental note that I like her style and should adopt it as my own.  Then, I'll watch a sitcom or talk show and see some star in a pair of blue jeans and a crisp white tee shirt, with some great jewelry, and think, "Yep, THAT, is my look.  From here on out, every day, jeans and a white tee shirt."   


Later, I'll see a well-dressed businesswoman on a legal drama and think, "yes, she looks snappy, and that is just the way I want to dress"  (temporarily suspending the reality that I now live on a ranch, work out of my home, and during my lunch break I change irrigation lines).  No more jeans and tee shirts.  Jeans, button downs and heels--at minimum.  And then, I go to a friend's tee-ball game and see a cute mom dressed in stylish workout clothes and sneakers and think, "I like that look.  Sporty, but put together.  Perfect for my lifestyle.  Add some lipstick and it will work just right in the home office or in town." 

The result of such thinking... on one end of my closet rack are trench coats, business suits, and pencil skirts, and just across the aisle hang flirty sundresses, a jean jacket, gaudy blouses, striped smocks, and gingham prints.  Smattered in between you find a flowy navy and white polka dotted Ralph Lauren dress (a la Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman) next to a long bohemian wrinkly skirt, and some preppy shirts, all keeping company with mini skirts, flowy chiffon skirts, and a red bandana type skirt with which I just can't part.

My closet bears witness to the fact that I do not have a style. I will never "be" Kate Middleton, or J.Lo, much less a shorter, heavier, and less attractive model of Ralph Lauren clothes.  But, I'm okay with that.  Or, I'm becoming okay with that (moreso with the not being Kate Middleton or J.Lo than with the latter).  Just because I don't have a style doesn't mean I don't have style!   Alas, harken the words of fashion icon Oscar de la Renta, who said "Fashion is about dressing according to what's fashionable.  Style is more about being yourself."

Pencil skirts and pressed lacks that hang next to ruffly, lightweight sundresses and bohemian chic blouses, across way from the shelves of faded jeans, college tees, and stacks of random sale items?  That is me.  My closet says, "I have varied tastes," "I'm trying,"  "I'm evolving,"  "I'm fun," "I'm serious," "I'm practical."  My closet says, no screams, I have style.

Sometimes, I am farm girl chic, or more often just no-makeup, mussed up farm girl." (Admittedly, not my best, albeit a frequent, look!)  

Sometimes, I like to be, and have need to be, the pencil skirt with the starched button down. I can pull off the stylish trendsetter (well, for these parts), and just as easily do the soccer mom (sans the mom part).  I like high heels, but I also like galoshes, cowboy boots and tennis shoes.

And, just as my tastes in wardrobe vary, so do my tastes in just about everything else.   I've always struggled with and despised the "superlative" questions of what is your favorite color, your favorite song, your favorite movie or favorite artist?  I would feel inadequate when asked such questions and unable to rattle off an answer. 

Favorite color?  Well, I really like red, but I couldn't live with just red.  And, I really wouldn't like red if I didn't know that there was yellow out there.  Green, now that is a wonderful color.  Love green.  And, then there's blue.  Oh, how I love blue.  Couldn't live without blue. 

Favorite music?  I don't own hardly any CDs because, while I a like several songs by several artists, I rarely enjoy listening to a whole CD of the same artist. And picking just one song out of all the different types of music and songs?  And do you mean the words to a song, or the actual music?  There are some songs with fabulous words, but I don't care much for the music.  Ordinary Miracle by Sarah McLachlan?  You Were Always on My Mind by Willie Nelson?  Simon and Garfunkel, Chicago, Martina McBride, Clay Aiken? Journey, Ingrid Michaelson, Katy Perry or Kenny Chesney? Don't forget Abba and Elton John.

Books?  I wouldn't give up my copy of Charlotte's Web any sooner than I'd give up by copies of Social Ethics, Kierkegaard, the Blue Sweater, or Crime and Punishment.  I remember a road trip in college where everyone in the van was sharing his/her "favorite" Bible verse and I was nearly in a cold sweat waiting my turn because I didn't have a "favorite" and felt like such fact would suggest a lack of spiritual maturity, rather than an appreciation for different passages speaking to us at different times. 

Well, thanks to that time I spent in the closet, with not a bare hanger in sight and yet a feeling of "nothing to wear," I have concluded that what I have sometimes considered indecisiveness or lack of self-awareness, really is not.  I know who I am, and I am a great many things. 

I like the fact that I don't have one "type" of music.  I am a country girl, but I love the city.  Sailing on the Sound, followed by dinner at Ray's and a round of tennis in the a.m.  No problem.  A trailride and campfire.  Love it.  I  am a great many things and a liker of a great many things.  I have an abundance of "really likes" and "don't want to live withouts," and what may be a "favorite" today, will be replaced by something else tomorrow.  Today can be my favorite day, but tomorrow can be too. 

Don't get me wrong; there are times where decisions must be made, and times where we must live with the choices we've made, or find a way to do so (in the case of my closet, this translates to many items in the closet that still have tags soon finding their way to Goodwill).  But, also there is plenty enough time to simply enjoy the abundance of great many things of all different kinds.  I don't need to have the style of Jackie O or Kate Middleton, any more than I need to dress like Lady Gaga to make a statement.  That, my friends, is what I learned while in the closet.

Todays' Song, also inspired by my closet, is "Give it Away" by Quincy Coleman.