hi. It's snowing outside, I'm listening to Ben Harper and sipping on Earl Grey tea. My husband is out of town for awhile which has left me with much more silence than normal. To my surprise; I'm enjoying it. (Keep in mind today is only the second day he is gone.) My house is clean, the fridge is loaded with veggies and fruit, and my favorite 'chill' mix is playing while I write.
I figured I'd get on blogger and say something profound about life, but it turns out that I don't have much to say today. The superbowl is tonight, but I think I may go for a swim at the gym, come home and snuggle up in bed and watch Mona Lisa Smile...its a Mona Lisa Smile kind-of-day.
Here is to the days when there is not much to say. They aren't bad days. The are just simply quiet.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Friday, January 29, 2010
I turned into an onion in 2010
Can't believe I haven't written since December. As usual, lots has happened. So hello again to you. The title of my new post is true: I've turned into an onion this year.
Explanation: I've decided that every month I will give up something for 20 days straight. I'm not sure what the rest of the year will hold, but this month was alcohol. Not that I drink often, but I did want to give up something that I enjoy doing to see what things take effect in my life....
I realized that truly giving something up has taught me more about OTHER things to enjoy. Instead of wine with dinner, a glass of water would usually inspire me to go to the gym and get a GREAT workout in...something I've neglected for far too long. Instead of going out with friends, I drove everyone and still laughed just as hard, (and danced just as hard) but woke up the next morning feeling like a champ.
But setting aside all of the physical changes and things I did differently, I noticed that by giving up something I was able to continually look deeper into who I am as a person. I know this sounds very emotional and feely (not sure if that is a word or not), but it truly was a sweet time for me to unwrap things in my life that I often don't take the time to examine.
I feel like pieces of my walls, pieces of my callousness are shedding...thus the onion analogy. I had more time to consider my life and the things that I have burried to deep inside that I've truly never taken the time to hash out and de-clutter. I learned to love my work and to appreciate what I do there. I've taken time to just sit and dream with my husband about the "Maybe someday..." dreams we have. I've experienced the physical sweat and blood from beginning a rigorous running schedule again, something that has taken a back seat for too long.
I've peeled back several layers this month....all just from giving up alcohol. Odd.
I think next month I may be giving up coffee...I know right?! Not sure if that's the final decision yet or not....but I do have to say that I'm curious to see what else begins to shed when other things leave my everyday life. Of course...I will keep you posted (literally).
Explanation: I've decided that every month I will give up something for 20 days straight. I'm not sure what the rest of the year will hold, but this month was alcohol. Not that I drink often, but I did want to give up something that I enjoy doing to see what things take effect in my life....
I realized that truly giving something up has taught me more about OTHER things to enjoy. Instead of wine with dinner, a glass of water would usually inspire me to go to the gym and get a GREAT workout in...something I've neglected for far too long. Instead of going out with friends, I drove everyone and still laughed just as hard, (and danced just as hard) but woke up the next morning feeling like a champ.
But setting aside all of the physical changes and things I did differently, I noticed that by giving up something I was able to continually look deeper into who I am as a person. I know this sounds very emotional and feely (not sure if that is a word or not), but it truly was a sweet time for me to unwrap things in my life that I often don't take the time to examine.
I feel like pieces of my walls, pieces of my callousness are shedding...thus the onion analogy. I had more time to consider my life and the things that I have burried to deep inside that I've truly never taken the time to hash out and de-clutter. I learned to love my work and to appreciate what I do there. I've taken time to just sit and dream with my husband about the "Maybe someday..." dreams we have. I've experienced the physical sweat and blood from beginning a rigorous running schedule again, something that has taken a back seat for too long.
I've peeled back several layers this month....all just from giving up alcohol. Odd.
I think next month I may be giving up coffee...I know right?! Not sure if that's the final decision yet or not....but I do have to say that I'm curious to see what else begins to shed when other things leave my everyday life. Of course...I will keep you posted (literally).
Monday, December 21, 2009
Who knew Leprosy could be beautiful?
Let's begin by saying that this blog post may not be my proudest moment, but it certainly was an important moment in my life recently; tonight to be exact.
So I've been dealing with a slur of emotions lately ranging from extreme excitment to sheer disapointment, but the overall feeling my heart has been coping with is 'missing the mark.' It seems like every time I turn around I've missed the mark somehow. One day I felt fat and ugly, the next day I was not the greatest friend to a friend who needed me, the next day I snapped at my husband about something so unimportant and miniscule that I'm not even going to write it on here. I've just kept messing it up for myself and those around me, and with that came a deepend sense of my ugly side. It was the same kind of ugly that I can spot in others so easily. And now here I was, pointing that finger at myself.
I began journalling about these details of ugliness in myself. It was like I was looking in the mirror at a leper-girl. I had open sores everywhere and knew that I could not heal them myself. Every day that is passing they are getting worse and uglier. That's when it hit me.
Now I don't know where your stance on God is, but I can tell you this much, Mister God is always coming in to meet me right where I am; leprosy and all. So it was at this point when I said, "God it's like I'm this leper just standing there in front of you and I can't do anything to make these ugly sores look any better, so here I am, an ugly leper girl." And that's when God replied. He said, "But Erica, you are still beautiful. I see past them."
How could I have forgotten that Jesus healed the lepers which means he HAD to have touched them...maybe he didn't even see the leprosy at all when he went to touch the infected. Maybe God knows I have areas in my life that I need some serious work on, but he DID take my hand and tell me I was beautiful. Why should I be hiding from the only person who can see past my ugliness? Why would a leper run from the only person who could see their beautiful soul?
One by one he can heal me. That doesn't mean I don't have to work on things, but nonetheless, one by one, little by little we will overcome this....but I can rest safe in his arms knowing he still thinks I'm beautiful...open wounds and all.
So I've been dealing with a slur of emotions lately ranging from extreme excitment to sheer disapointment, but the overall feeling my heart has been coping with is 'missing the mark.' It seems like every time I turn around I've missed the mark somehow. One day I felt fat and ugly, the next day I was not the greatest friend to a friend who needed me, the next day I snapped at my husband about something so unimportant and miniscule that I'm not even going to write it on here. I've just kept messing it up for myself and those around me, and with that came a deepend sense of my ugly side. It was the same kind of ugly that I can spot in others so easily. And now here I was, pointing that finger at myself.
I began journalling about these details of ugliness in myself. It was like I was looking in the mirror at a leper-girl. I had open sores everywhere and knew that I could not heal them myself. Every day that is passing they are getting worse and uglier. That's when it hit me.
Now I don't know where your stance on God is, but I can tell you this much, Mister God is always coming in to meet me right where I am; leprosy and all. So it was at this point when I said, "God it's like I'm this leper just standing there in front of you and I can't do anything to make these ugly sores look any better, so here I am, an ugly leper girl." And that's when God replied. He said, "But Erica, you are still beautiful. I see past them."
How could I have forgotten that Jesus healed the lepers which means he HAD to have touched them...maybe he didn't even see the leprosy at all when he went to touch the infected. Maybe God knows I have areas in my life that I need some serious work on, but he DID take my hand and tell me I was beautiful. Why should I be hiding from the only person who can see past my ugliness? Why would a leper run from the only person who could see their beautiful soul?
One by one he can heal me. That doesn't mean I don't have to work on things, but nonetheless, one by one, little by little we will overcome this....but I can rest safe in his arms knowing he still thinks I'm beautiful...open wounds and all.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
I was just missing the salt
So...I like to cook, as does my husband. I realized something in these last few weeks that may sound too simple, but I assure you, it is a novel idea to me. I've been missing salt in my life for the last few months.
I use salt in everything I cook. I love salt, but not too much...but EVERYTHING I make could always use a lil salt. So as I've been living my life day in and day out, I took no time to notice the bland taste I've had sitting in my mouth.
Our trip to Guatemala, and my new job as a PR and Marketing Director, added the long lost flavor I'd forgotten I'd been missing. I was living each day for that, just that day. I woke up to accomplish the tasks for the day, and go to bed knowing the next day would hold just the same list.
But when you travel across the world to touch the hearts of those who can't make a list, because all they are concerned about is LIVING to tomorrow...you realize you maybe forgot to take notice of the little things in your own life.
And my new job. I love my job. I am working with happy people, who love working with me, and we enjoy our work. SALT!
The last few weeks have added a vibrant taste to a long-lasting absence of the simplest additive; salt. I can't believe I'd gone so long without it.
I encourage you today. Add salt back into your life. Stop living everyday so that you forget what it even tastes like to be moved for one second, to experience joy, to laugh out loud, or sing aloud in your car....add some salt...and feel those tastebuds come alive. (and by tastebuds, I'm talking about your heart...)
I use salt in everything I cook. I love salt, but not too much...but EVERYTHING I make could always use a lil salt. So as I've been living my life day in and day out, I took no time to notice the bland taste I've had sitting in my mouth.
Our trip to Guatemala, and my new job as a PR and Marketing Director, added the long lost flavor I'd forgotten I'd been missing. I was living each day for that, just that day. I woke up to accomplish the tasks for the day, and go to bed knowing the next day would hold just the same list.
But when you travel across the world to touch the hearts of those who can't make a list, because all they are concerned about is LIVING to tomorrow...you realize you maybe forgot to take notice of the little things in your own life.
And my new job. I love my job. I am working with happy people, who love working with me, and we enjoy our work. SALT!
The last few weeks have added a vibrant taste to a long-lasting absence of the simplest additive; salt. I can't believe I'd gone so long without it.
I encourage you today. Add salt back into your life. Stop living everyday so that you forget what it even tastes like to be moved for one second, to experience joy, to laugh out loud, or sing aloud in your car....add some salt...and feel those tastebuds come alive. (and by tastebuds, I'm talking about your heart...)
Thursday, November 12, 2009
For those who have no voice
My husband and I are leaving for a misisons trip on Sunday. I find it peculiar that my year can go by with a few thoughts lent to those in Guatemala, but for the most part, I am concerned about getting the laundry done, getting my workout in, and getting dinner on the table every day. My mind rarely shifts to the immense pain and suffering that people I love are experiencing.
So today's post is for them. It is for those who have no voice to be heard, and for those who live such desolate and expendible lives. But not to me. They are interesting and funny people who live every day concerned about getting laundry done and having dinner on the table. But they walk 4 miles to work, usually with no shoes. They feed a family of 7 because their elderly parents live with them, and dinner is cooked over a smal flame in their bedroom, or bathroom; whichever room lends the most space.
So I write for you today. You inspire me, you have inspired me since I met you eight years ago. You live your life simply, not asking for more than you can afford, not even asking for anything luxurious. And you never ask for anything in return. You are the woman, the man, that I aspire to be like. I think about throwing away my black strapy sandals because my friends tell me they are out-of-date, but you made your clothes and have worn them for 10+ years. And you wear them with a smile and no concern if your neighbor will be dissatisfied. You wear them with gratefulness that you have clothes. I wish I was more like you.
You share a cement block and cement floor two bedroom with your family of seven, and you never complain about having to share a bedroom with your mother and father and you spouse and your two children. You just live.
I am leaving on Sunday for nine days, only nine, to live your life, and already I'm packing lysol and sanitary wipes, and shower shoes....but you wash your body in the river, and hope to have clean enough hands to prepare your dinner on the bathroom floor. You are survivors.
So today is about you. I love you, I admire you, and I cannot wait to see you all again. You change my life daily, no matter how small. But you change me into a more grateful and compasisonate person. You bring reality to my selfish and vein world.
Thank you. I think I'll keep my black strapy sandals today, and maybe even wear them out tonight.
To you. The most inspiring people in my life, whose voices will never be heard.
So today's post is for them. It is for those who have no voice to be heard, and for those who live such desolate and expendible lives. But not to me. They are interesting and funny people who live every day concerned about getting laundry done and having dinner on the table. But they walk 4 miles to work, usually with no shoes. They feed a family of 7 because their elderly parents live with them, and dinner is cooked over a smal flame in their bedroom, or bathroom; whichever room lends the most space.
So I write for you today. You inspire me, you have inspired me since I met you eight years ago. You live your life simply, not asking for more than you can afford, not even asking for anything luxurious. And you never ask for anything in return. You are the woman, the man, that I aspire to be like. I think about throwing away my black strapy sandals because my friends tell me they are out-of-date, but you made your clothes and have worn them for 10+ years. And you wear them with a smile and no concern if your neighbor will be dissatisfied. You wear them with gratefulness that you have clothes. I wish I was more like you.
You share a cement block and cement floor two bedroom with your family of seven, and you never complain about having to share a bedroom with your mother and father and you spouse and your two children. You just live.
I am leaving on Sunday for nine days, only nine, to live your life, and already I'm packing lysol and sanitary wipes, and shower shoes....but you wash your body in the river, and hope to have clean enough hands to prepare your dinner on the bathroom floor. You are survivors.
So today is about you. I love you, I admire you, and I cannot wait to see you all again. You change my life daily, no matter how small. But you change me into a more grateful and compasisonate person. You bring reality to my selfish and vein world.
Thank you. I think I'll keep my black strapy sandals today, and maybe even wear them out tonight.
To you. The most inspiring people in my life, whose voices will never be heard.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Gin and Blind Dates
I am doing something tonight that I've never done, ha. I've invited over two close friends for a blind date. I assume they are nervous, but I feel like my heart is about to explode from my chest. Why is it that we are so full of butterflies for others in our lives to find bliss? Ha. I am sitting here drinking a gin and tonic to calm the nerves, but I can't imagine how they feel. Of course, I know it may not end up in marital bliss, but maybe, just maybe, they will find a new friend. Someone to share their dreams with, someone who can console them on heart-wrenching nights. A girl can hope, right?
The funniest part about tonight is this: He is an ex-boyfriend, and she is like my little sister. HA! I can't help but laugh, really. It's ironic that I've made this match. He's a dreamer, and an adventurous spirited and brilliant man, and she is a dancer, a GOOD dancer. They both live whimsical lives, how perfect right? They both speak Spanish, like me, and speaking a different language with someone is such an intimate feeling. (Maybe you know what I'm talking about). But yet again, it's whimsical, it's like no one else in the room exsist but the two of you. Sorry, that was a total tangent. Back on track: The blind date.
I have never been on a blind date. But it must be something spectacular. Knowing that someone you love has someone else that they love, and they want you to find eachother and fall in love. There will be, hopefully, lively conversation, drinks, dessert, and games (there always has to be games, in my opinion, it brings out the TRUE self). Also, hopefully, there will be an exchange of numbers and hugs (or handshakes, I don't know. Oh! I'm nervous!), and there will be the drive home for each of them. That is the beginning.
It could be the worst disaster of the year, it could be the biggest failure on my part to expect them to get along, but oh how beautiful is the hope of love. Everyone must feel it at some point or another. We all feel those butterflies that come when we meet someone who consumes our thoughts on the way home fromthe night, or the chance encounter. We may scrutinize them, we may analize their every move, but nonetheless, we are thinking about them. And isn't that the beginning of love? -Or, at least, of something worth holding onto? For indeed, they are captivating our thoughts.
So I raise my gin and tonic (sorry it isn't some fancy drink) to you two, we will see in two short hours what evolves. All I want is for you to find happiness. All I want is for my friends to find that happiness I've found in my husband. And that happiness is an entirely different blog post. For now, my hopes, my giddiness, and my exceitment lays in the hands of two strangers on a blind date.
Cheers~
The funniest part about tonight is this: He is an ex-boyfriend, and she is like my little sister. HA! I can't help but laugh, really. It's ironic that I've made this match. He's a dreamer, and an adventurous spirited and brilliant man, and she is a dancer, a GOOD dancer. They both live whimsical lives, how perfect right? They both speak Spanish, like me, and speaking a different language with someone is such an intimate feeling. (Maybe you know what I'm talking about). But yet again, it's whimsical, it's like no one else in the room exsist but the two of you. Sorry, that was a total tangent. Back on track: The blind date.
I have never been on a blind date. But it must be something spectacular. Knowing that someone you love has someone else that they love, and they want you to find eachother and fall in love. There will be, hopefully, lively conversation, drinks, dessert, and games (there always has to be games, in my opinion, it brings out the TRUE self). Also, hopefully, there will be an exchange of numbers and hugs (or handshakes, I don't know. Oh! I'm nervous!), and there will be the drive home for each of them. That is the beginning.
It could be the worst disaster of the year, it could be the biggest failure on my part to expect them to get along, but oh how beautiful is the hope of love. Everyone must feel it at some point or another. We all feel those butterflies that come when we meet someone who consumes our thoughts on the way home fromthe night, or the chance encounter. We may scrutinize them, we may analize their every move, but nonetheless, we are thinking about them. And isn't that the beginning of love? -Or, at least, of something worth holding onto? For indeed, they are captivating our thoughts.
So I raise my gin and tonic (sorry it isn't some fancy drink) to you two, we will see in two short hours what evolves. All I want is for you to find happiness. All I want is for my friends to find that happiness I've found in my husband. And that happiness is an entirely different blog post. For now, my hopes, my giddiness, and my exceitment lays in the hands of two strangers on a blind date.
Cheers~
Monday, November 9, 2009
Turns out
Good morning world.
Got back from a weekend vacation in California, and am coming to grips with something I've been viciously lying to myself about for years. Turns out, I have no fashion sense whatsoever. Seeing as I'm from Colorado, the occasional fancy-schmancy shirt or shoes make me WANT to feel like I've got the ins and outs down of a fashion diva...turns out I'm a fashion fauxpau from head to toe.
I show up in San Diego to be greeted by a 21 year-old in a mercedes SUV and a coach bag to match. As I scoot my sweatpants covered body into the car with my no-name Target purse, I feel less than qualified to even be IN this car. Seemed as though everyone had a mini dog to match their outifts. Boy was I in for a weekend!
We were getting ready to go out on the town on Friday night. As everyone put on their newly purchased frilly dresses and name brand pumps, I slipped on my simple, and favorite, black high-heeled sandals, only to get a reaction of pure disgust from every girl in the room. Dang, I missed the mark again.
The weekend came and went. It was full of fun and laughter and, of course, lots of dancing.... But now that I am sitting back at my Colorado dining room table, drinking my homemade coffee in my chipped mug, I realize that maybe missing the mark in fashion has nothing to do with my contenment as a woman. Was I embarrassed, of course. But it didn't knock me for a loop in thinking that maybe 'I' just wasn't enough.
So, to you woman who always dress to a tee in the perfect outfit, drive the perfect car, and have every surgery imaginable....I salute you. Way to keep up with the Jones'. But remember that just because my black strapy sandals cost the same as your Venti Starbucks non-fat, no sugar, no syrup latte, doesn't mean I'm less of a woman. Maybe we are both happy with our lives. Maybe I was meant to wear sweats and feel sexy.
So...turns out my fashion is exactly that; my own. And I love me.
Got back from a weekend vacation in California, and am coming to grips with something I've been viciously lying to myself about for years. Turns out, I have no fashion sense whatsoever. Seeing as I'm from Colorado, the occasional fancy-schmancy shirt or shoes make me WANT to feel like I've got the ins and outs down of a fashion diva...turns out I'm a fashion fauxpau from head to toe.
I show up in San Diego to be greeted by a 21 year-old in a mercedes SUV and a coach bag to match. As I scoot my sweatpants covered body into the car with my no-name Target purse, I feel less than qualified to even be IN this car. Seemed as though everyone had a mini dog to match their outifts. Boy was I in for a weekend!
We were getting ready to go out on the town on Friday night. As everyone put on their newly purchased frilly dresses and name brand pumps, I slipped on my simple, and favorite, black high-heeled sandals, only to get a reaction of pure disgust from every girl in the room. Dang, I missed the mark again.
The weekend came and went. It was full of fun and laughter and, of course, lots of dancing.... But now that I am sitting back at my Colorado dining room table, drinking my homemade coffee in my chipped mug, I realize that maybe missing the mark in fashion has nothing to do with my contenment as a woman. Was I embarrassed, of course. But it didn't knock me for a loop in thinking that maybe 'I' just wasn't enough.
So, to you woman who always dress to a tee in the perfect outfit, drive the perfect car, and have every surgery imaginable....I salute you. Way to keep up with the Jones'. But remember that just because my black strapy sandals cost the same as your Venti Starbucks non-fat, no sugar, no syrup latte, doesn't mean I'm less of a woman. Maybe we are both happy with our lives. Maybe I was meant to wear sweats and feel sexy.
So...turns out my fashion is exactly that; my own. And I love me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
