I can't even handle it.

Ed and I get in the same fight every morning, and it looks like the above. Basically, he wants his doggy bone, and I want him to bark for it. I see nothing wrong with this.

Thankfulness

This past week, I celebrated my 29th bday. I am filled with so much hope and peace for this next year. I can't explain when it happened, or even how it happened, but I have finally come to a place of peace in my life. With so much upheaval over the past couple of years, it is so wonderful to just sit and rest in God's presence without the cloud of doom hanging over my head. I've had to make some pretty tough decisions, all in an effort to arrive at the place I am today.

I am so, so thankful for where I am at now. I live in a location that is good for my heart. The sand and the ocean are equally calming and inspiring, my friends are encouraging and challenging, my job is secure and uses my talents, my church is a place of rest. I know the rough years were there to change me into the woman God wants me to be, but it sure wasn't easy to deal with. I don't understand it, but I'm trying to learn from it.

I got a tattoo back in July, and am constantly reminded (at times surprised) by it. (side note... it was the most ridiculous kind of elective pain to go through. I don't understand how/ why people would get more than one tat. ever.) It signifies, to me, hope and the promises of God to his people. The reference, Deuteronomy 31:8, is so applicable to me: "The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you or forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged."

To quote Hope Floats: "... when you find yourself at a new beginning. Just give hope a chance to float up. And it will... "

More of the tender, mushy heart.

To my dismay, the tenderheartedness is still in existence. I cried at a wedding this weekend. If you put me at a good friend's wedding, in the midst of a military homecoming, or around Ed and his cuteness, I will cry.

I attended a good friend's wedding this past weekend, and it was so lovely. She turned 30 this year, and spent her birthday solo in wine country- just because she felt like it. In many ways, she's an inspiration to me. She lives a happy, fulfilled life... still one with hurts and pain and grief and even despair, at times. And yet, after all her years of singleness, she remained joyful. Joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Actually, let me quote a couple verses from Romans 12: ¹⁰ Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves. ¹¹ Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. ¹² Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. ¹³ Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality.

She embodies all of these charges. She delights herself in the Lord, and she was rewarded with the best gift. Her love and gratitude for the man God provided for her is and was so evident on her wedding day. I've never seen such a happy, excited, hopeful bride than her. She literally bounced along the entire night, so blissful, so... explosive. Explosive in the idea that maybe your heart is so big and full and happy that you might just... burst. And yet, it wasn't one of those loves that makes you painfully aware of your own self and makes you want to vomit; it delights to envelop you into their love, their hope, their joy.

With Jesus as the entire center of their world and being(s), it seems appalling to even think they had anything to do with their love story. Their love story was crafted, managed, and molded by Jesus and Jesus alone.

It was such a delight to share in their joy.

Oh- they had a balloon animal-maker at the cocktail hour.

And I got to create the centerpieces.

HURRICANE MADNESSSSSS

So I figured with Hurricane Irene making her way up the East Coast, I'd do what any other Norfolkian would do and stay home to challenge the storm. That is, until I got a text Friday morning from my brother offering his house up as a safe haven. Knowing full well of his ulterior motives of wanting to see Ed, I quickly jumped on the chance to go visit- the offer does not come along every day. I rushed home after putting plastic tarps over my computer keyboard to stave off the UTTER DESTRUCTION that would inevitably ensue, packed up the puppy and headed North(ish). Northwest. Whatever. The usual 3.5 hour drive took about 6 hours. No problem. I've got my dog (who looked like this most of the trip), and a book on tape (Decision Points by George W. Bush, which is super-interesting so far, btw).

Brotherbear lives adjacent to the Marine Barracks in the Capitol Hill area of DC, and a distant memory of mine includes going to the Marine Barracks on Friday nights to watch the dapper marines march. I used to get escorted in on the arm of a delightful young soldier; now I awkwardly walk by the (still delightful) young soldiers, but feel much more intimidated by their presence (say awkwardly, slightly funny things, and then walk quickly away). (One day, I hope to woo my husband with my awkwardness. Jury's still out on that one.) All that to say- parking was nonexistent. And in this case, you MOST DEFINITELY do not want to park on the other side of the bridge. No, for reals. Not even a joke this time. I parked the car on the other side, got out for 15 seconds, got back in, and proceeded to drive around for another 15 minutes looking for a place to stop my car.

I woke up the next morning, and completed something that has been on my to-do list for the past 15 or so years (that's three times in two sentences I've used the number "15". I recognize that.); I went running on the Mall. No, not in the mall. On the mall. The national grassy-lawned mall. Mission accomplished with a 3.5ish mile run. I celebrated by having a cupcake. (See below.) And because I'm so cool (nerd.), I named the picture file "hurricupcakes". I'm so stinkin clever I can't even stand myself sometimes.

And then the hurrycane was nonexistent after that. Rather, I shouldn't say nonexistent- I should say... uneventful. This is Sunday morning on the streets:

EXCEPT FOR THIS UTTER DEVASTATION!!! I arrived back home to this sad, sad scene. This patio set is certainly causing some grief in my life. Ideas of what to replace the glass with, or how to go about replacing it?  AHHHHH.

That's all.

Done!!

It's always good to listen to my Mother's advice. She's so smart. Her idea to fixing this blasted chair problem was to "go wander around Home Depot." So I did. I had some ideas in mind of how to fix the chair-bottom-falling-out-and-making-people-fall problem I had last weekend. One friend suggested some type of tubing regularly used in screen doors, another (new blogfriend- woot woot!) suggested against wooden dowels, and doubling up on the cording, and Dad suggested superglue. Now that I think about it, I'm surprised he didn't suggest duct tape. Dad fixes a lot of things with duct tape, namely windshield wipers.

Anyway, I wandered around the HD for a bit, all the while trying to look like I knew what I was looking for. I shy away from talking to store associates, especially when at Home Improvement stores. It generally takes me some name dropping to get them to realize I'm not an idiot girl that's never been in there before. And by name dropping, I mean saying words like "crescent wrench", "double-threaded screw", and a phrase like "well, when I was using my power sander the other day..." or "the jigsaw didn't have quite the cut depth I needed..." Anyway. I found myself in the trusty rope and tie-down aisle, and saw the nylon ropes. Hesitant of the ropes, since I had such issues with them the last three times, I spent some time debating, but finally decided on this big, bad mamma jamma.

I sewed only one at first, to make sure it would work. I played this game before, where I sewed multiple pieces, only to realize my efforts were in vain. Lo and behold, Winner, Winner, Chicken Dinner!! Like a charm. Only problemo this time? I wasn't getting a good stitch next to the cording. I quit for the night, partially defeated, partially jubilant.

A quick internet search the next day made me realize I was just using the wrong tools. It's amazing how easy something can be when using the right tools!! Duh, I needed to use the Zipper foot. See pictures below, and how that allows me to get right up next to the cord for a good, successful stitch.

I busted three out after I figured the correct technique, and BOOM goes the dynamite. I'm done. Ish. (I need to fix the first attempt, and do some touch-up painting to the pink chair.) This project made me want to punch myself in the face. But I'm done. And it will be so nice once the temp drops below 100, and these crazy beetle-things disappear. I can't wait to use my new/old patio set.

Ed put in some hard work, too. Ok, not really. I just really love taking pictures of him. And you should love looking at pictures of him. :)

*k

Workywork

This is from a project that my company just completed. So good.

The Neverending Project

I started this redo project a few weeks ago (okay, maybe a couple of months is more accurate), and it seems to want to continue for the rest of eternity. Some friends of mine were paring down their crowded backyard, and offered up a patio set. Not one to turn down a project (or free fun things), I accepted the gift(s). One patio table with a glass top, and four fabric-backed chairs.

It seemed easy enough: Repaint said furniture, purchase and sew new fabric backs and seats. The painting was the easy part. I just lightly sanded the surfaces, to make sure the paint would stick. And spray paint and I continued our love affair.

The sewing, however, is another story. I got super-lucky with the fabric. It was on the "remnant/ sale" table in the verrry back of the store, and found this outdoor fabric. Originally something like $26 a yard, I got it for $6 a yard.

I originally purchased cording that would be sewn into the edges of the back and bottom panels, then slid into channels that would be screwed on to the chairs and secured in place. After finishing all my sewing, I went outside to grab one of the channel pieces, and BUSSST. The cording was wayyy too small and immediately slipped out of place. Back to the store for round two.

Round two, with larger cording, was an immediate bust as well. Third time's the charm, right? I sewed in the largest cording Joann's had (1mm, I think?), and reassembled the chairs. VIOLA! I even tested them out. Perfecto!!

Cue the arrival of friends and dudes, who apparently weigh more than I do. (I am certainly not complaining about the fact that I weigh less than dudes.) Also cue the immediate bust of the chairs. AGAIN. But seriously. Look how cute this is? I grabbed the beach umbrella, planted some succulents in the mason jars, and instant party!

I'm at a loss as to how I should fix this?! Does anyone have ideas? I've thought of rubber tubing (the kind that is used for screen doors), or wooden dowels. Suggestions?

I need help.

Omg. Omgomgomg

Yesterday was BY FAR the worst eharmony day ever. EVER. But at the same time that all this was happening, I was able to find the humor in it.

So the day started out with Bossman Hambone being a silly old sillyface. Or, as the Bakers say, a stupid old stupidhead.

Move on to match #1- recent, fast-moving kind of guy. He replied very quickly, and soon requested to "chat". So he sent an eharmony email that asked if I would like to gchat or facebook chat. Immediately after that, he closed the match. Ergo, chatting was instantly not an option for him. Mmmkay.

Match #2. Also a fast-mover. In response to my question "Tell me 5 random things about yourself", he thought it was most important for me to know that he is a) very conscious about his weight and b) that he is slightly OCD and hates getting dirty. Perfect.
There were two other silly things that happened, but to protect the innocents, I will refrain from mentioning them.

Then early this morning, I received this match:

The most influential person in my life has been:

There are a few. This may sound kinda corny but Bob Ross was one. He inspired me to be an artist. I love painting and I love art in general and I owe most of that to him.

Really. Bob Ross is the most influential person in your life? How in the world could you leave out John Tesh? Or Richard Simmons? Or Sally Jesse Raphael?
Oh wow. And just in case you were wondering, today will be the last day of eharmony for me. I just can't take it anymore. We're breaking up.

On another note, I'm toying with the idea of writing a book detailing my life thus far, which would involve my stories (book on singleness, patience, waiting on God) that lead up to now. I'm looking for titles for said book and taking suggestions. Here are a few that I've thought of/ received so far:

1. Really? Really.
2. Eharmony and other sh*t.
3. This makes my stomach hurt.
4. Keep calm and have a cupcake

Any ideas?

The adventures of Bossman Hambone.

As long as you're familiar with the workings of Outlook and meeting requests, this will make sense.

So I sent out an update to a previous meeting request that people didn't reply to. As the manager of the "Events" calendar at work, I take these infractions very seriously. Punishable by the withholding of schwag.

Bossman Hambone replied to the event invitation with an email that said he couldn't go. (Along with a very detailed writeup as to why he couldn't go. None of which I am interested in.)

I replied, asking him to reply "no" to the calendar invitation.

He replied to the email with "NO" written in all caps.

What a guy.

Update...

Just got this response from EHarmony.

"I also understand that you would like to receive matches who are normal, socially well-adjusted, and attractive. Please note that we currently do not have a specific setting to send you matches who are normal, socially well-adjusted, and attractive."

Well, that just sucks.

eharmony.

So I did it. I joined eharmony. Except I joined it about 2 months ago. So far, it's been pretty disappointing. Two months have resulted in two dates that failed miserably. The first one was okayish. But the guy asked me to meet him and his friends for brunch at his house for the second date. Um... no. The second date guy didn't even pay for my coffee. Not like I can't buy my own coffee, but I refused the second date offer, thinking I'd have to buy my own dinner. No thanks.

I've gotten matched with the likes of this guy:

(just in case you're wondering, I named that file "omg.jpg" on my computer. It's only fitting.)

And this one too:
The one thing I am most passionate about:
Philosophy paintball medieval fantasy programming theology

The one thing I wish MORE people would notice about me:
I can be arrogant

The things I can't live without are:
Jesus's grace
paintball
my family
close friends

Some additional information I want you to know:
I recognize the need to have an open mind but I also recognize that even atheists don't have the mental capacity to comprehend and consider everything and they end up putting there faith in someone or something. For instance they may read a book never going to great lengths to find the facts behind the book and then they don't even realize they too have blind faith in something. I just happened upon christian truth, believed, and am told to develop a relationship with Jesus.

I typically spend my leisure time:
surfing the internet sometimes paintball working on paintball guns
 
FAIL.
 
And so this morning, I took things into my own hands. I wrote them a letter. See below:
I have been very disappointed with the matches I've received; they've been outside my radius, and generally a bunch of weirdos. I'd like to either change my settings to ONLY receive local matches (who are preferrably normal, socially well-adjusted, and attractive men), or to discontinue my membership. Please advise if this is possible.

HouseLove

I moved back to VA just a short 10 months ago. (Seems like a lot less time than that.) When I was looking for a place to live, I had a lot of factors to consider.
1. I did not want a roommate. Ever again. (Except for one that I get to marry.) Therefore, the place had to be cheap enough for me to afford everything solo. Bills, Rent... all of it.
2. It had to be big enough to fit all of my stuff in it. This actually posed to be a challenge, seeing as how I inherited all of my "heirloom" furniture as a 26 year old, and have been schlepping it around since then. I love ALL of it, too. So putting it in a friend's house was a bit out of the question, especially since I didn't think the pieces would survive friend's houses.
3. I wanted a yard for Ed to wander around in. Which ultimately meant, in my heart, I wanted a house. I didn't want to share a wall/ ceiling with a neighbor. Especially one that liked to party with thumpin' thumpin music and/or other things. IfyouknowwhatImean.

Lo and behold, I found this little gem. Sure, it looked like it had been long forgotten and rough around the edges, but I saw something different.  Really, all it needed was some Love. (Don't we all?)

A few gallons of paint, lots of hours in sweat, lots of blisters, planting, planning, and frustrations, here's what the beach cottage looks like today. Well, really, it was yesterday. But it pretty much looks the same today as it did yesterday.

Now I have a cute little place to go home to. And a cute little dog to go home to. Most of the improvements were completed with the help of my cute little parents.

Ima go be cute and little now. (weird.)

*k

Obsession.

My mind/ time has been absolutely monopolized as of late. I really can't get enough. I spend LOTS of time on this website, and it makes me not to look at anything else ever again. You should get an account. And then be my friend. And then we can pin together.

http://pinterest.com/

Body by Ken

I know I promised this weeks ago, but I was too busy getting RIPPED and in shape for swimsuit season. You'll forgive, right? Right.

So. The first morning of Body by Ken, I woke myself up at 5:10am. Ed woke up also, so I had to take him outside to get his business worked out. For those of you who know me, you know that I am not the friendliest in the mornings. In fact, I'm just generally dissatisfied with the idea of not being asleep. I arrive in plenty of time for the start of my new life. Right.

Basically, let's just imagine a yoga-type studio without air conditioner. That's where I spent a lot of time sweating from my face. I don't typically sweat in the facial area, but for these 4 weeks, I did. We spent some time outdoors, running around a Farm Fresh parking lot, running to the Post Office and back, or running to the beach. I got yelled at plenty of times to "catch Brandi! C'mon, Kelly! Catch Brandi!" Brandi is at least 7 inches taller than myself, all legs... and a sprinter. So I felt like punching Ken in the face a few times. He also yelled at me once because I wasn't punching hard enough/ correctly enough. He came up behind me and started yelling in my ear. I almost peed myself, but decided against it.

Anyway, after two weeks, Ken started letting another trainer in on the deal- David. David is an ex-marine, and he made us do exercises that made my ears sweat. I was driving to work this morning and saw David running. Totally thought about turning the car around to ask if he would train me solo. David talked much less than Ken, so with him, the entire hour was spent working out and getting buff. Ken likes to use a lot more motivational words and high-fives.

You might be wondering a bit of the actual schedule of the week. Mondays were legs, Tuesdays were arms, and Thursdays were boxing. And once a week, there would be a weigh-in. So I'm proud to say that after 12 workout sessions and changing my diet up a bit, I LOST POUNDAGE! 1.1, to be exact. Ugh. Not worth it. Ok, it really was worth it. I just don't want to admit it.

Now, I can't exactly give you away all of Ken's secrets. Let's just say it involves a LOT of crunching, pushing up, and running. Also imagine free weights, stretchy bands, and little orange cones.

But for your viewing pleasure, pictures of Ken and Temarcus. I don't know who Temarcus is, but I like saying his name.

When I was a kid...

I don't remember a TON from my childhood, but it is decidedly a whole heck of a lot more than my brother remembers. He will tell people that his memory has been erased from before the age of 12. I, however, think that is not the case. I'm pretty sure he's got at least these three stored up in his steel trap:

1. An "incident" involving me, his hamster, a bucket, a dead hamster, and tears. He maintains this was an actual occurrence, rather than something he made up. I do not remember this. And I maintain my innocence.

2. Pretty sure he may also remember a certain time when a neighbor kid and the two of us were playing basketball. Things got heated, I got mad, kid may or may not have ended up getting thrown into the bushes. Again, the details of this incident are a bit shady.

3. We used to go to the minor league baseball games in Albuquerque frequently. I remember getting a pack of sixlets from 7-11, and heading on our way to the games. We usually sat in the outfield on the grass, but there were a couple special times when we got real seats. This particular time, we went with Adam's Boyscout troop and sat in seats. Sometime after a few innings, a message posted on the scoreboard of... "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ADAM WARNER!" or something of the like. He was stoked out of his mind. Really excited.

All that to say... I remember well the Dukes. They were my #1 baseball team. They were the minor league team for the Dodgers when we attended, and superb players were marked by their blue shoes. The ragtags still had red. Anyway, Mom and Dad are in New Mexico these days. And they sent me this t-shirt. It made my day.

also, this.

A year later.

I've been thinking about this post for a while now. I know it's important to process through things and work through them and such, but it's been such a trying year that sometimes I just needed a break. From thinking, from feeling, from myself. I've been at the beach now for about 9 months, and have just started being me again. Weird to say, but I feel it. Things that are so close to my heart got pushed out and pushed away so far from myself, as I was trying to keep from falling apart. I never really understood it when people retreat, or when they say they "fell apart". I get it. I don't feel like I fell apart, necessarily, so much as my life did.

Getting laid off is hard stuff. I never understood how much of one's identity is wrapped up in being employed. I mean, whether or not you like your job is not the question. It's a matter of being able to provide for yourself that is so closely wrapped up in who you are. Especially for myself, being a 28 year old single woman. I have been taught to be strong, independent, hardworking, self-sufficient. I may take those to extremes at times, being hard-headed and unwilling to accept gifts from people. But when you lose the ability to be strong, independent, hardworking and self-sufficient, there's not a whole lot else to go on. People that have never lost jobs, in the back of their minds, think that it's that person's own fault for getting laid off. I know this from experience. It's easy to feel victimized, to feel inadequate, to feel small.

Even harder than getting laid off was learning that Meghan was sick again. When Adam told me, it felt like getting the wind knocked out of me. That's not just an expression. That's a feeling. I remember one night in particular where I woke up because my literal heart was in such pain. I wondered if I was having a heart attack. It took me a solid 30 minutes to calm down, breathe, and pray. I wasn't sure what was happening, but if the Devil came in to my body and was crushing my heart, I wouldn't be surprised. There were so many days where I'd be going about my routine and would just start crying. It blew my mind how many tears could be shed. And how the word "Jesus" was all I could say when praying. He knew what it meant, though.

Even harder still was Meghan passing away. I still have videos that play in my mind of that week. The plane trip, sitting between two strangers and crying. Border crossing and answering the Patrol's questions of why you were going to Canada. The song that played at her funeral- "It is well with my soul." It sure wasn't then. It might be now, but I'm still unsure if I can admit that.

Then, I bailed out of Texas to go to Canada for the summer. Texas was in the process of crushing me under it's weight. I got claustraphobic in the second largest state in the US. Thankfully, I got a job offer while I was up there.

Then the whirlwind started. I drove from Canada to Texas, moved out, Texas to Virginia, moved in- all in about 10 days. It took me about 3 months to unwind just from that and begin to feel settled. And then the work started. There were lots of days where being around my friends made me feel trapped. I'm a different girl than I used to be. I need to be alone- to sit, think, read, run... who knows why that change took place, but it did.

My first week back in Virginia was the first time I had communion in about 7 or so months. And it terrified me. Communion is this beautiful picture of you celebrating what Jesus did for you. How could I do that when I didn't trust His love anymore? I mean, all these things were "taken" from me and I just didn't get it. It didn't make sense. I've done what I'm supposed to do my entire life. Why, then, was I "rewarded" with this year? Coming to the understanding that faith isn't a system of actions and rewards, of checks and balances, of yes' and no's, was something that took a long time to come to grips with. It's not something that we, as humans, are taught by the world. We're used to actions and consequences. I've come to a deeper understanding of Christ's love after this.

I don't understand why Meghan was taken, or why I lost my job, or why last year went the way that it did. I never will. I can't rationalize it. But I do know that Christ is still Love. I know he doesn't cause these things to happen. I also know that when you feel like you can't go on any more, He will somehow give you the strength to wake up another day.

beach bag bum

So I made that purse! Bag! Whatever! And I've taken it to the beach with me every time I've gone. It's so great. It will hold books, snacks, sunscreen & a towel... and juice boxes! Sorry for the poor picture quality- I took it with my phone in haste. But ta-daaa!

How to give your dog a mohawk.

This is a very important and life-altering tutorial. Seriously. You never know when you'll need to shave your dog's hair. So, we'll get right to it.

1. Procure for yourself a dog. Ed here has been around for 12 years (Happy Birthday three days ago, Ed!), so I didn't have to do much looking. Also make sure the dog is a willing participant. Ed and I sat down a few times and discussed what was going to happen, so he was prepared for it.

2. Procure for yourself a set of hair clippers. Any will do, although, you might want to get a separate pair just for the dog. Dad once mistakenly used Ed's clippers, and he was not a happy camper knowing a dog got his hairs did with the same set.

3. Go outside. You never ever ever want to do this inside. Ever.

4. Start shaving. It's best to think of a plan. For example, if you want a mohawk, you need to decide on the width of this before starting. A lightning bolt, although more difficult, could produce equally as life changing results as the mohawk.

5. Be patient. This can take a couple hours, especially if you have a dog that likes to wander off so he can sit in the sunshine.

6. Make sure that you're telling your dog how handsome he is. They need positive reinforcement.

7. Do a look-over to make sure you haven't missed any spots. This is good to do with a friend present, as they may have a different angle (which they will, if they're taller. Duh.).

8. Give the dog a bath and brush him off. It helps with the shedding.

9. Let that dog go outside and show off his new 'do.

10. Pat yourself on the back for a job well done.

maniac

I don't know what's gotten in to me lately. I don't post for like 4 months and then BAM!!! I have a lot to say.

So I went to this work function Friday night- a wine/ seminar thing with architects. Architects, as a whole, are some of my favorite kinds of people. They can be crazy and egotistical and delightful and funny and just wonderful. They can drive you bananas with their ability to humanize a building and explain it using some of the most *insane* words you've ever heard in your entire life. Regardless, I was there. Enjoying myself.

This thing started at 6:30. Me, expecting some "heavy hors d'oeuvres", didn't eat anything before I arrived. Sadly disappointed in the food selections, I ended up munching on some too-garlicky hummus, celery and carrots. A dinner it was not. I start with one glass of wine- which is a good way to get me comfortable. Naturally, in those types of situations, I would clam up and sit in a corner. I'm solid with my one glass of wine. Sit at the table, and patiently wait for the lecture to start. About 15 minutes after the awards portion of the lecture starts, a new glass of wine magically appears before me. Ugh. Empty stomach + kelly + 2 glasses= done. That's enough for me to start dancing (on top of a piano... not like I've ever done that before or anything.). About 30 minutes after that, another glass of wine magically appears in front of me. Now, without a doubt, I am not good to drive. So I start devising plan B in my head of what I will do in the time it takes for me to sober up.

Coworker's wife gets tired of listening to the wonderful Architect talk, and the three of us leave. Walk across the street to a bar/restaurant, where they continue to imbibe. I, however, start chugging the water and order an app to get something to soak that nonsense in my stomach up. Coworker's wife, however, has lost any sense of boundaries/ appropriate way of speaking. She asks me where I live/ do I have a roommate. I answer... "no" in my -ahhhhhh i love it- tone of voice. She responds (a little too quickly) with the phrase: "You're going to be single for the rest of your life."

Here are some thoughts regarding this...

Coworker's wife, you did not ruin my night. You gave me something to blog about... and I'm going to think long and hard about whether or not to punch you in the mouth next time I see you.

Summertime.

With my newfound sense of employment and influx once a week with some cashmoney, it's hard not to dream about what I will do with all these ASTRONOMICAL amounts of money. (That was a joke. Whatever.) I've come to the understanding that I.LOVE.SUMMER. I love riding my bike with my hair down. I love wearing summer shoes. I love finding cover-ups for when I go to the beach. I actually love the fact that sand is in my car, in my carpet, in the bottom of my bags, and in my kitchen.

I'd ride this Electra around everywhere I go.

I'd change out the ribbon to make it feel not-so-Pollyanna. But I'd wear it.

*hats in the belfry

Yes, please. Cover up for a summer evening. I don't remember where it's from- anyone?

These cropped pants from Gap.

These stripey shoes from Target.

And a handmade bag like this. (This one is from Thimble.)

Curtain Call

Bff Megan asked me to post how to make curtains. It's actually quite simple, seeing as how I stay with a super-easy pattern that gets made up as I sew. Really, nothing too special or fancy to these.

The funny thing about this set of curtains is how quickly they were made. The Baker's were coming in town, and I had about 3 days to decide on some fabric and get them done. I tend to freak out a bit when people are coming over- last minute cleaning and a bit of redecorating. Then I sit on the couch, hoping to look calm, cool & collected. I wonder if my guests ever pick up on that?

So off I went to the fabric store, and I found this- problem was, it was the end of the bolt, with about 2 yards. I figured there wasn't going to be enough fabric for all three windows in the tiny kitchen, but it was worth a shot. Indeed, not even close to being enough fabric, so I had to choose another complimentary one.

I wanted to get something that I could use on the other two windows, but wasn't as bold as the fabric with the flowers. Ta-daaa, my favorite color with some teeny polka dots. And I bought some pom pom trim to sew along the bottom edge. This time, I think I got 3 yards, so I wouldn't have to mess around with not having enough fabric.

Step one. I never really thought this was an important step, but it really is. It makes a HUGE difference in the finished product. IRON IT. The whole piece of fabric. After you cut your fabric to size (I eyeball, but measuring would probably help also.), iron the edges of where you're going to sew. I sew the left and right hems first- probably an 1/8" hem or so.

I promise I don't sew in the dark. This photo just looks like I do. But in order to get a straight hem, you first have to iron the fabric in a straight line. Then I follow the footplate to get the hem parallel to the edge of the fabric.

I generally sew the bottom first, but with the edge trim being sewn on the bottom, I wanted to work on the top ruffle first. So I made sure to have about 5" of fabric folded at the top, giving me about 2-2.5" of ruffle at the top. I sew the bottom hem of the pocket first.

Also, good tip here- fold the bottom edges in a bit when you sew. This will decrease the chance of showing the back fold when you hang the fabric. Trust me. It works.

After the bottom hem, I sew the top hem of the pocket. I give about 1.5-2" for the pocket, but this all depends on the curtain rod you are using.

I loooved the pom pom thing- a bit of whimsy. But if they had it, I would get trim with a larger ribbon. This ribbon was super-narrow, and hard for me to navigate the needle to sew in a straight line.

And ta-daaa! My little baby curtain in my little baby kitchen.

Tips:

It will probably help to measure. I rarely do that, and I just live with the result. :)

I also didn't pin anything- I figured the ironing would do the trick. Which it did, but if you're not super-comfortable with sewing, you might as well go ahead and pin where you want to sew. It sure doesn't hurt.

Also, plan ahead and don't sew curtains one day before the in-laws get in town. You won't have to feign relaxation and can actually make some fun things for their visit.

PUNCH.

So living at the beach is wonderful. My house is three blocks off the water, which means that when it's warm, Ed and I can take walks on the boardwalk. It also means that people are a bit more relaxed- neighbors sit on their porches and hang out. I may be the youngest person on the block by a good 30 years, but I like it. I got cupcakes from NeighborErika two weeks ago. A few weeks ago, St. Patrick's Day was celebrated by an entire day of partying and parade-ing outside my house. This is my neighbor Jimmy, who apparently gets really into the holiday.

Living near the beach does have it's drawbacks, though. I have mini-breakdown freakouts when I realize I haven't been taking care of my "temple" as I should have. Aka, my body is not beach-ready. (I may also have freak outs regarding my bathing suit selections, but that's beside the point.) Also adding to the mess of it all, I get bored when working out. Unless someone is there telling me (yelling) what to do, I probably will just sit down and think about Unicorns.

Luckily, one of my friends managed to procure a heavy bag for his garage gym. Woooooo! I have discovered, when punching and kicking this bag, whoever is holding the bag gets to ask any question they feel like asking, and I'll tell them the honest answer. The punching bag, for me, is like truth serum. (So if you ever need an honest opinion or answer from me.... to the punching bag!) And while I love punching and kicking, two times a week is still just not enough for my otherwise sedentary body.

Sedentary body, meet BODY BY KEN. No kidding, I signed up for this. Here are my thoughts regarding said activity:
1. I might die.
2. This guy is slightly... um... yeah...
3. Not only is he slightly... um... yeah..., but so are his other trainers.
4. No hurt, No mini-skirt!.... really?
5. I can't wait to share stories of this guy.
6. GRAPHIC DESIGN GENIUS!!!
7. It doesn't start for another few weeks. So I will enjoy my sleeping in and my body minus Ken.

And that is all. Enjoy.

*k