bootyandbrains.

the year that was: part two

2012-01-30T13:38:00.002-05:00

part one

the silence lasted for a moment, and then all at once the world erupted. what do we do next? where are we going? where is jenna? who is ordering food? the phones were non-stop, the door bell never stopped ringing, jenna was now living at her mother's and no one could exist without each other for the next month. family flew in, friends from afar, when i wasn't at work, i was stopping by my apartment to feed my cats for a moment, and then i was at jenna's. sometimes talking, sometimes pretending her father hadn't just died. the weight upon her, the 10,000 different directions she was pulled, the heavy burden of her mother's inability to be alone for more than a couple hours, it was crushing. and

i
didn't
see
it.

i didn't see what was going on with my best friend. i didn't understand it, and it made me feel awkward. i am so embarrassed to write that. i tried to relate to what i might feel if one of my parents died. that didn't work, for obvious reasons. and under the skin of all this, after some time had passed and life had begun to calm, my resentment bricks from before started showing through the plaster i haphazardly covered them with. i felt it at weird, inappropriate times-- the funeral being one of them. this was an intense time of ambivalence for me, as i felt overly protective of her and angry and bitter at the same time. i felt selfish, yet justified in my hurt, although paling in comparison to hers, and bit my tongue every night so that i could get through the day with my mouth shut until much, much later when it was appropriate to discuss.

much, much later was not a luxury that was afforded to us, and we were shoved very much into the present-- all of us with our triggers painfully raw, and death, pain and unbearable sorrow still lying at our doorsteps.

a situation arose, and i found out about some things happening behind my back which stunned me. and just like that, all the plaster came crumbling down in a giant heap. i had reached my limit, could no longer hold my tongue, and i released it. the wind had come. i felt betrayal by people i loved more than my own family, and it crushed every single part of me. when i wasn't crying, i was screaming. everything had exploded, and one by one, people were forced to pick a side. intentionally, i barely spoke with hannah, thinking that maybe, maybe i could keep her out of this. so, i kept my venting to others, which came back to ruin me.

during this time, the only thing that got me through was that golden nugget. that piece of advice extended down from God himself it seemed, into my therapist, and out of her mouth. it came on a normal wednesday evening. i was railing on about something, complaining, whining about how i am just different. no one really understands me. I AM TOO MUCH. AND I WILL ALWAYS BE TOO MUCH FOR EVERYONE IN MY LIFE. now, until this point, my soft southern belle had never broken her therapist-y composure. not aloof coldness, but by this i mean, every question is infuriatingly pointed back to you in the form of another question that explodes your brain, turns it into mush, makes you cry for days, and takes you months to analyze. at the end of which, you feel proudly, oddly, mentally accomplished that you have tackled the depths of this one particular battle, and thus counteracts the hundreds of dollars you have spent for it. ANYWAY. she set her papers in her lap, folded her hands, leaned into me, and in a frank like-we're-havin-drinks-and-nachos sorta way says, "honey, wouldn't you rather be too much than (pauses, winces) too little?? come on. you have an incredible light in you. USE IT." i sat with my mouth agape and suddenly realized my therapist was a real person. a real person who had just shut down my greatest insecurity in two sentences. this may not be earth shattering for you, but it was for me. freedom. incredible freedom.

and then one night in may, i, a single woman who lives alone, who in good fortune adopted a boxer-pit mix from a local dog rescue group just a week prior, had an incredibly frightening disturbance at my apartment in the middle of the night. in a sleep haze, i watched my 6 month old puppy, sweet as can be, morph into the protector of the house, and praise the Lord for that dog, i was grateful. but i was scared, the police were no help, my emotions were a wreck from the drama going on in my personal life, i wasn't thinking clearly, and decided to leave town for a week. it took months to feel completely safe in my home again, but i got there.

and then, because the timing couldn't be more perfect, i felt i had nothing and no one, and now i felt unsafe where i lived, hannah, whom i attempted to keep away from everything, had become convinced that the reason i was speaking to the only person close to both parties i felt i could trust, was out of a sick manipulation due to a shared history of abuse. that i was literally manipulating this person because her abuse, which was extreme, made her an easy target for me. it is still hard to think of those words, but to write them, is excruciating. words, which you wouldn't say to your worst enemy, were said by a trusted friend. who knows me. who knows my life. one of the few people who knows intimate details of my childhood abuse. and she used it. the other girl, my confidant, in torn shame, cut ties with me immediately.

i'm not ashamed to tell you that with all of these things compounded, i completely lost my shit. there's no other way to put it. even by my standards, i went off the deep end into a complete meltdown. my poor aunt, who may be the only person on earth who has seen me through worse, literally had a crazy person living in her house for a week while i talked and cried and screamed my way through it until i literally had no tears or voice left. i wish i could have just soaked in those early days of january in a little more. i was so blissfully, ignorantly happy. i haven't truly been quite that way since. in the last real conversation i had with jenna, she said something i will never forget. i sat on my couch on the other end of the line with my eyes closed, and she said to me in a quick blow, exasperated, "too much. this is just too much. you are too much". it was a blow i couldn't have handled weeks before. i sat there, smiling in God's providence, for what seemed like hours after we hung up repeating repeating repeating the mantra. wouldn't you rather...? there is a light in you... use it. i remember feeling broken, but safe.

and then, the ex came.

the year that was: part one

2012-01-11T11:06:00.000-05:00

so finally, here it is. my twenty eleven. this is long, maybe the longest thing i've ever written. thus, i'm separating it into 3 parts. this was a tearful, freeing journey writing this for you.. for me. i hope this gives you a glimpse into my heart, and can only hope my words help someone find community. i like to be funny and i like to post recipes, i like to show you what pretty pictures inspire me and what great music influences me. but this-- this is my heart. i wrote it for you.

* * *

for my jenna. i will love you always. love, renee.

it was the afternoon of december 26th, 2010-- my mother and i agreed to meet for lunch the day after Christmas, both of us having made other plans for the big day. we decided that we would meet at a mexican restaurant half way between our two locations and near the interstate. i was nervous, as it was not a great year for us, nor for our already rocky relationship. in my nervousness and dire need to cling to making the holidays perfect on the outside as they were far from perfect on the inside, i spent an insane amount of money on gifts. for everyone really, but especially for her. something told me that if i tried hard enough, if i wrapped them beautifully enough, if i bought the most premium gift wrap, and the highest quality silk scarf, and the perfect Chanel perfume, and best crystal wine glasses, that everything-- everything would eventually work itself out. i walked in to the restaurant hopeful, i'm sure she did too.

she left me, and the gifts on the table. this was the distinct moment in time that i gave up. i gave up on us ever having a hope of healing our relationship. done spending, done trying, done attempting to wrap everything in to a perfect package to disguise the ugliness that waits at the bottom of the box. my searing contempt for her blindly handing over her only daughter to an abusive father was reaching it's highest peak. and it showed. i refused to let her off the hook, and she had grown tired of the guilt that perhaps internally consumed her, but outwardly lives in denial from.

we argued enough to make everyone around us at the restaurant uncomfortable, and she walked out. my gift wrap i'd spent an hour meticulously presenting lined the terra cotta floors, everything i'd selected carefully for her a week before sat in front of me. this was over. in a wave of calm, i gathered everything of mine, leaving hers, and started towards my car. but we, we are an argumentative pair. i couldn't tell you where it comes from, i'm not sure-- something wild exists in our blood. she flew at me to continue the melodrama in the parking lot, but i had already had my moment-- my moment of giving up. sitting tearfully at a shitty restaurant alone and embarrassed. i slammed the car door, and my eyes glazed over. hers still raging. as i drove away, she went back in to the restaurant and collected her gifts.

before ever meeting her for lunch that day, i already had my backup in place. my go to. my best girlfriends of many years, jenna* and hannah*, and it was to their house i drove, for venting and decompression, and later that evening we had plans to have dinner with jenna's family, my second christmas with them. we left, and jenna's family included me in their family dinner, yet again, for an evening full of our usual laughter and banter. and food. oh, the food. the fight with my mother it seemed, at least momentarily, never happened. this, this is where i belong, i remember thinking during a quiet chewing moment looking around the room and across the table at each and every person. i can't put in to words what this evening or these people meant to me, but this is the moment i go back to when i think about us. i close my eyes and transport myself back to that chair next to her in her mother's dining room-- all of us together-- when we were happy, jenna's father was alive, and before everything fell so drastically apart after 6 years of the closest friendship i've ever had.

new year's eve came and went and i met someone that would be the catalyst to change the rest of my year, and my friendship with jenna and her entire family, that for years i'd always felt securely a part of. jenna's brother in law, whom in retrospect i must admit, my feelings for were sensationalized due to my own issues of family, my feelings of the loss of mine, and all that a potential union in that arena could represent for me down the road. (ultimately, those feelings and union were short lived, although no less intense at the time. i felt them genuinely, yes, but now recognize their skewed source.) somewhere in between new years eve and flouncing around on new-potential-relationship-cloud-9, it became clear that jenna was none too pleased with this budding relationship. cruel words were said in very typical blunt jenna fashion. what was not typical, what bottomed me out, what left me clawing to pull myself up from under, was the intent-- the meanspiritedness-- of the words. it probably doesn't surprise you that words mean something to me, perhaps more than what they mean to an average person. and it threw me. threw me right in to reaction mode-- a wonderfully insane intemperate trait i get from my mother. i had reverted, and i was lashing out right back. her eyes glazed over, mine still raging.

if you've spent any amount of time with a hispanic family, you know that they stick together, and the moment one family member knows something, the rest do as well in about 0.5 seconds. i don't actually mind this all that much, except of course when it has to do with me and when "knowing something" turns in to gossip, which turns into a snowball of onesidedness, which turns into something akin to jen is a crazy bitch, keep her away from my brother. that warm fuzzy moment of togetherness i felt was less than a month before the bad blood started. irony.

more things were said, more friends by default were dragged in, more reactionary defensive behavior from me, and the budding relationship that had created such a stink for so many, had to the surprise of no one, burned out in record time. in very typical jen fashion, i was over this in about 5 seconds, and expected everyone else to be as well. i held no ill will or bad feelings towards him, but mostly, i just wanted to erase and sweep under the rug. however, i shared those feelings with no one, as it was later relayed to me that my presence was no longer requested at any family gatherings for a time frame yet to be determined... but it would be a while. wouldn't want to cause any awkward disruptions for anyone with the sight of my face. this of course was devastating, and left me feeling out of control and alone.

it was around this time that i started seeing a therapist, unrelated to this & albeit briefly, she did me a world of good. an older, soft-spoken southern belle type of christian counselor. kitten heels and blazers. peachy georgia drawl. blonde, soft bangs. i thought with all my fuck-shit-goddamn, litany of sordid tales, and anger at God, Jesus, i am going to break this woman. send her running for the hills when i let out the real, ugly, brutal me. but i didn't, and ultimately, she surprised me. and after every session, she prayed with me. every person who has been to a therapist (this was not my first, nor will by my last go 'round) knows of those little golden nuggets, those pieces of wisdom that you hold on to and repeat to yourself in times of trouble months, years, decades later. they become no less than the mantras of your life, repeated and whispered softly like prayers. she helped me zero in on my issue, my forever struggle: you are too much. you are too much for anyone to handle. while up until this point no one had ever actually verbalized this to me, it is a force that blusters strongly inside of me. maybe it always will. and it turned out that i would need her mantra soon, although i didn't know it yet. the day it came, in a freed, preachin' the gospel of the therapist's good news & shiny new penny sort of way, the first person i told, was jenna. she nodded, but this was gold to me.

sweep i did, and needing her friendship and place in my life, jenna and i attempted to go on as normally as possible for the next couple of months. but nothing was the same, nor ever would be. i prayed for the tension to cease, and selfishly for them to see the err of their ways and apologize for how i was treated. surely they would eventually see it. surely they remembered last december around the table. surely they remembered the goodness of past 6 years. surely she remembered everything we had been through- men, heartbreak, church separation, betrayal. the apology never came, and the resentment built up like bricks, one more, it felt like, added each day.

and then i got a call around midnight in the middle of the week. it was odd that i was even awake, and i was... blogging.

jenna's father had suffered a massive stroke, the severity unknown to us at the time, and was rushed to the emergency room. it was hannah who made the call, and per her usual calm during a storm manner, explained the situation and that they were on their way. and i needed to get dressed. per my usual, i panicked, and drove as such. when i got to the hospital, i saw her mother and brother upset, but in that quiet, eerie wait and see calm that only exists those few moments before the truth is delivered to you. we all sat in a circle on the cold hospital floor and took turns praying. in this circle, there was lots of praying for "God's will". when people of much stronger faith than i pray for this, i get nervous. i stuttered and stumbled around a few words, and although i hated saying it-- all i could come up with was a regurgitation of what everyone else was already saying-- "God's will". jenna, a nurse in this hospital, was in with the doctors diligently working to save her father's life. i remember hannah and i saying to each other, he has to be ok, im worried about jenna if he is not ok. this cannot happen now, not with everything else. then a doctor came out, jenna following behind her, to all of us eagerly waiting to hear that this man who had run marathons, who had battled multiple sclerosis for years with an indominable spirit, who had come from nothing yet flourished and helped so many in the community as a clinical psychologist, who had raised a beautiful family, who was irreverently and infectiously hilarious, who loved his only daughter and two sons so sweetly, would be ok.

this was not the news we heard.

the next 5 minutes i froze and all the chaos around me went quiet. i stood still, not knowing what to do or say, or what really was even happening. i called another dear friend at 3am screaming crying into the phone. next we were ushered into his hospital room where it was decided that he be taken off life support, and this was the last time. these were the last moments. it was there in that room that i saw unrelenting grief to a level i had yet seen, and i had no idea what to do with it. i felt scared and embarrassed at myself for my fear and unknowing of how to properly deal with what was going on, or how to help. i tried to focus on my breathing and to somehow stay out of the way, yet comfort jenna, her mother, and brother at the same time. i will never forget her mother's eyes looking deeply and mournfully at her sweetheart of 40 years with a love many will never know, as he lay lifeless on a table hooked up to monitors and breathing machines. his CAT scan hanging opposite, the hemorrhage so hugely visible. nurse after nurse came by, all friends of jenna's, offering their condolences and support. the look in their eyes was the same as mine-- fuck. why?

jerry died the next day.

he was surrounded by the intense love of his family and his wife and caretaker of so many years. there was barely enough space to stand in the room. everything was quiet for a moment.

and then the flood came.

dead man.. err.. single girl walking

2012-01-10T12:36:00.001-05:00

last night:

i drank wine.
and then i ran out of wine.
then i found some vodka in my freezer and mixed it with lemonade.
which was delicious but...
then i was kinda drunk.
then i decided i needed to eat a TON of guacamole for dinner. with a spoon. fine fine after the vodka, with my fingers.
then i decided that i needed to listen to music very loudly and bake brown sugar-caramel-coconut-almond cookies. they are the ugliest, drunkest cookies ever, but are pretty delicious. i will attempt to recreate them sober for y'all, and perhaps try to remember to add baking powder. whoops.
if there's anything i've learned from my mother, it's that drunk baking is the best baking. ok, i learned other things.. like fried chicken.
i wanted to update my fb status with my creation, but remembered that for the time being, i am boycotting facebook for some reasons. i give it a week, RELAX.
but then i realized, i have a TWITTER MACHINE.
then i realized that i am now addicted to twitter.
im sorry for this rant. this is the real me. and i have no facebook to take it out on.

i blame sara bareilles and her live version of sittin on the dock of the bay for last night's antics. it's fucking inspiring.

today

2012-01-07T11:20:00.001-05:00

I heard his voice today
I didn’t know a single word he said
Not one resemblance to the man I met
Just a vacant broken boy instead.

royal albert hall on repeat
bacon & eggs (check!)
run.
attempt research on blogger to wordpress migration without head explosion. God, someone please help.
wine.
my avocados are finally ripe, so i'll be making the guac salad i promised you.
take down christmas tree. (what? i love it. and it sucks dragging it down three flights of stairs and out to the woods behind your apartment in the dead of night so no one sees you)
tanqueray.

y tu?

what im eating: spicy chipotle chicken

2012-01-05T23:10:00.001-05:00

so, i like to cook. however, i do not have recipes. none. i get an idea, or "follow a recipe" from a cookbook or one of the 17,000 cooking blogs i follow, doctor it with a handful of this, a pinch of that, add a bunch of other things i didn't measure and... bam! done! this often frustrates the people around me when they ask for the recipe. how much is a smidge, jen? that is not a correct unit of measurement, goddammit. what do you mean, "just poke it"?

this year, i resolve to combine my love of food (LOVE. OF. FOOD), love of blogging, and love of saving money by cooking more and eating out less. some things will be healthy, some... not. all will be fresh, simple, full of garlic, and probably spicy if i can find a way. so to all you recipe likers out there, fine! you win. (i'll do my best)

caution: i apologize in advance as there's likely going to be a good bit of alcohol in the background of all cooking pics henceforth. i am of the opinion that one's culinary genius increases exponentially with the amount of alcohol consumed. actually, it's probably more like a bell curve, but God, yougetwhatimsayingok.

so let's get started: chrissy teigen's spicy chipotle chicken.

funny story-- one of the gazillion celebrity engagements of late was my dear john legend whom i adore and want to make love to his voice on a constant repetitive daily basis. naturally, i gotta see this chick. my reliable news source, omg.com, says her name is chrissy teigen. sports illustrated model. 'course.

tap tap tap..
googles chrissy teigen
oh! she has a blog!
oh wow she is pretty
jackpot! sarcastic and hilarious and makes fun of everyone + recipes + booze + shirtless pics of john legend in the kitchen. winner winner.
holyhell she CAN COOK.
..then i read every post she has ever written, starring recipes to try later. scribbles grocery list. go read her blog. and then make this chicken with me.

THIS IS HOT. NO IM SERIOUS, REALLY HOT.

(but this recipe is all to taste, and if you like it more mild, add more ketchup & brown sugar) this makes enough to marinate the chicken in half of it, and save half in baggies in the freezer.

3-4 cans chipotle chiles in adobo
1/2 cup tequila or vodka
juice of 1 lime
5-6 tablespoons ketchup
5-6 cloves garlic, chopped
1/4 cup packed brown sugar
1 tablespoon kosher salt
1/4 cup oil

throw all of that in a blender & pulse until smooth, bold, and sexual looking.

yes, it makes a whole lotta

add the marinade to your meat of choice, and marinate for at least 5 hours. kudos if you go for 24. and please, for the love of all things holy, DO NOT USE plain boring boneless skinless chicken breasts. use the tastier (and cheaper) bone-in, skin-on thighs. the vodka and adobo soak into the yummy fatty bits of the thighs and make this todiefor. this is america. be american.

chrissy says to use some of the baggied leftover marinade on some sauteed shrimp atop a salad for a light lunch. i concur.
note: the vodka in the recipe keeps it slushy in the freezer and easy to scoop, no thawing necessary. yay science!

wrap it up & refrigerate. see you later, lovelies.

oh look wine in the afternoon. oh well, it's 4 o clock somewhere.

in a roasting pan, bake at 400 for 45 minutes to an hour. (these took 1 hour)

pair with a steamed veg, and voila! healthy, easy dinner. if your life is better than mine and you're not limiting your processed carbs, skip the veg and go for some scalloped potatoes. mmmmm cheese would be so good right now. or shred the leftovers and put it in a soft taco with red onion and cilantro. god i want carbs. fuck.

mmmmm.

and at the end of it, you'll look like ms. teigen.

no wine was abused during the making of this post.

NYE, yard fights, fuzzy socks and guacamole. i welcome you, 2012

2012-01-01T11:34:00.005-05:00

so i've decided once and for all that i need to stop fighting my natural homebody urge by putting on way too much 'smoky eye' makeup and paying exorbitant amounts for accessories you thought were on sale, then driving 35 minutes away to the middle of nowhere because there's supposed to be this really fun party your friends brother's friends are having, only to accidentally spill a cookie on the floor and then whaaat the wife of the homeowner is coming after your friend in their front yard like a white trash wild beast and you then yell obscenities, friend is crying, people are apologizing to you and you are now sobering up down the block and goddamn your eye makeup is not even slightly smudged yet at all and ... whatafuckingwaste. oh alcohol, why do you do this to us?

when honestly, my idea of a GREAT new years eve is wearing yoga pants surrounded by people you love, watching your dog being silly, eating something delicious wrapped in bacon, drinking champagne, and talking about how in all seriousness, fergie is actually in her mid 70's (i mean, look at her, people) with some really interesting plastic surgery work, while jamming out to john legend pandora in your living room wearing your best socks. maybe some fresh biscuits n' honey thrown in there somewhere too.

anywho, there's always next year. and i'll focus less on the 2 hours of my life i'll never get back (and start baking so i can mail her some cookies i lovingly piped the C word on to), and more on that 2011 is over. and that there really is nothing more that i love than the start of a new year, and the hope and opportunities and possibilities it brings with it.

blessings to you in the new year. i'm praying, for us, that it's a great one where we pursue what we love, live abundantly, eat well, stress less, treat ourselves and others with kindness, open our hearts and minds, and get our shit together.

it's back to the writing for me on this gorgeous new years day. also, got a great recipe i poignantly call 'guac salad' coming your way. because there are other things in it but who cares, it's all about the guac.

it's all going to be alright.

love,

jen

the list: twenty twelve

2011-12-27T16:10:00.002-05:00

well im back, world. and how sweet it is. after surviving one absolutely shit-tastic year, successfully maneuvering myself through an argument-free holiday with my mother, and taking out the man-trash in my life, i'm back. no, i have not forgotten my promise of the possibly internet-breaking life update-- i'm here, i'm queer, i'm workin on it. but i thought i'd give you a little piece of my mind.

today i jotted down (on.. paper?? whaaat) my plan/pep talk for 2012. 2011 was (intended to be) the year of self-care. cue eye rolling and yawns. but seriously, it was.. just not in the way i was expecting. less fluffy "care", more school of hard knocks "care for yourself". ever see hope floats? don't act like you're not a sandra bullock fan because i will flat out call you a liar and kick you out of my blog space. anyway, so now that its just us SB fans here, let me get to the point. my year has gone something like the 1st part of hope floats-- she goes on national television to learn that her bastard of a husband is cheating with her whore of a best friend. humiliated, our sandra trods home with her tail between her legs, and her mama has the good sense to ask her why. "why did you go on tv, dummy?"

i wanted a free makeover.
"well, you got one."

well, i got one. minus the television spotlight, the husband, and the texas accent. fine, a lot more things are different too, but for God's sake, you get the point i'm making.

this brings me to the state i'm in now. ok, so let me just go out on a limb and say that maybe a lot of you haven't had the greatest year of your lives. i know im not alone. but for once, i'm not pouting about it and by some strange and miraculous beam of light from heaven, i'm not sitting around on the couch with an XL bag of cheetos in one hand and a box of tissues and ben & jerry's in the other (wait, how can you hold tissues AND ice cream? oh, trust me, you can), peddling my melodrama to anyone within earshot who will listen. so let's not do that anymore, k? (unless you're sandra bullock post jesse james 2 years ago.. in which case, feel free to sob away in to your artificially orange-tinged hands). if not, get your ass up, outside, and actually doing something good for yourself, your body, and for someone else.

so here it is. my note to myself for 2012. THE LIST/YOU'RE ON NOTICE, JEN BLAUVELT:

cook more
eat out less (like, almost never)
write more (see also: GET OVER YOURSELF and PEOPLE APPRECIATE RAW HONESTY)
blog of cooking and life more. remember, you're supposed to be a blogger.. not an annoyingly unreliable teenage tumblr-er
save money. you're not rich, bitch!!
lean protein, eggs, avocado, and bacon are your friends. cookies, pasta and bread are your friends you only visit sometimes because they talk shit about you behind your back(side).
CROSSFIT. oh yeah, you're walkin' the dog nearly naked this summer.
HALF-MARATHON. if at first you over-train and injure yourself like an idiot a week before the race, try try again.
shopping for clothing is ONLY permitted after some serious crossfit results. like you have to hold your pants up with rope and your boobs are getting so fucking small they are bouncing freely in your VS dream angels D cup. those babies are 50 bucks a pop! (side note: victoria's secret, you're an asshole)
write down budget (check) ..and stick to it for the love of GOD. you're getting closer to 30. try to be fucking responsible, ok?
stay away from men who have a party rock pandora station saved on their iphone and listen to it while showering. cough cough! (see also: lame skrillex raves in LA, and military balls with dates who appear bought and paid for. if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it's probably a prostitute)
run swiftly in the opposite direction of men who carry white leather wallets. cough cough cough!! (see also: billabong surf shops and poly-blend panda embossed accessories.) God, i wish i were kidding.
get your shit together
pay your bills on time
don't be the friend absolutely NO ONE can rely on to be on time, or return their things in a timely manner.
go to the god dammed dentist when you're supposed to, jennifer. no one likes it, you're not special.
maybe wait less than 6 months in between oil changes...
be HEALTHIER. physically, nutritionally, financially, emotionally.
start seriously cleaning up messes/mistakes you made in your early 20's. debt isn't cute. neither is that dress you bought 3 seasons ago, and pheebs chewed your sam edelman's anyway.
remember your worth, that you kick ass, and that you don't need anyone--anyone--who makes you feel as if you're anything less than amazing. it doesn't matter that they were your best friend and sister for years, or that you've loved the man much of your adult life. if they treat you poorly, betray you, or can't handle you during rough times, they don't deserve you during your best times.

i think that's a nice preview. next up: life update.
what's on your list?

see you soon.

2011-12-01T16:07:00.001-05:00

the FL keys

so long blog world. i won't be so much as checking my google reader (gasp!) for the next two weeks. starting tomorrow, i am beginning a long planned and longer awaited 2 week vacation. no blog. no work. no very little facebook. for two whole weeks. friends, i am elated. the company i'm keeping during this jaunt will be interesting.. stay tuned. and, i have something for you-- after much processing, im ready, finally, to take the kid gloves off this year's largely silent tone of personal life happenings on this blog. a year end wrap up to break the internet forthcoming. until then, i'll be here, hopefully at this very table. recharging, talking, soaking, smiling. writing it all in my head.

see you soon.

monday.

2011-11-28T17:10:00.002-05:00

today i laughed like a silly girl most of the day. after a stressful few weeks, a thanksgiving meal happily but exhaustively prepared, and a sickness that took me down in a matter of hours, it was nice to laugh wholeheartedly, like i hadn't in quite some time. i laughed so much people told me to be quiet. at silly things, at stories of people pooping their pants, at running out during my lunch hour to randomly purchase a nut cracker for a fellow employee at his request. i laughed at a 12 year old's level. i laughed long enough to for a moment, forget about my jealousy, my anxiety, my insecurity, my insecure feelings about my thighs or my arms or this or that. i laughed enough to remember how good life is. so much that i realized how much i take in this life too seriously sometimes. but things are serious, times are tough, people are hurting, you are hurting. yes, yes they are and yes i am. and you know what? today, im laughing. and i feel good about that.

geo.graphy

2011-11-10T12:31:00.001-05:00

lately i've been really into decorating with maps. now, i don't own any, can barely follow one, and rarely listen to my gps, but... maps. i'm into them. pinterest and etsy are wonderful things, and have been the source of much inspiration for me. map obsession included. this anatomy of the south print i pinned a while back and featured here on the blog, i fell in love with. im not really sure what it was about it, but i kept coming back to it over and over. and the joy of pinterest combined with the magic of the interweb allowed me to quickly track down the graphic designer who created it for garden & gun magazine. (a great publication, by the way. subscribe). a few short emails later, and care of charlston's braxton crim, this 13x19 print is on its way to my house. next stop, framing.

before anatomy, i'd been trying to perhaps get my hands on some antique style maps of seattle and gig harbor, WA with not much luck finding anything that quite fit my taste enough to hang on a wall. enter etsy and and its modern cut city maps. out with the old, and in with the new. i'm considering grouping a few cities together above my writing desk, and this wood block art print has also found a home with me.

where is your heart headed, geo.graphically speaking?

current.covet

2011-11-01T14:04:00.000-04:00

i am seriously jones'n for some mirrored end tables. i'm in the market for new end tables to house the fab new lamps i recently procured, which will tie together nicely my white bedroom of zen (a nice win for the single and kid-less). while on the hunt for the perfect white tables that don't cost an arm and a leg (its like 5 pieces of wood people, come on), something shiny and fabulous and decidedly far more than i ever would want to spend on tables caught my attention. naturally. behold. i couldn't... could i?

shhh.. come to my house and live with me
park mirrored bedside table, pottery barn

sweet november

2011-10-29T20:14:00.000-04:00

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

ceremonials

2011-10-28T13:15:00.000-04:00

stream it now, get your pre-order on here.

oh, karouac

2011-10-28T12:25:00.000-04:00

right?

never let me go

2011-10-24T18:04:00.000-04:00

it's a good thing to not need someone. it's a good thing to taste, touch, and feel strength physically, tangibly somehow, welled up inside of your body. the gift to know deeply that you are loved, special, worthy, and without codependency.. that you, regardless of someone elses choice or outcome of some situation, will be ok. not needing of another's vote to make you whole. undoubtedly, no one goes through life completely void of the need for human approval and desire, and on the contrary, many of life's most beautiful moments are found in relationship, hand-held and in union. indeed we are beautifully and fearfully made. to disregard this makes one's heart hard, and ultimately, broken. but to base one's fulfillment on these variables leads to a person in ruin. it leads to addiction and to the unhappiness attention seeking brings. i say this not abstractly, but as an addict, in recovery, a couple years clean (depending on how you define that). but like any addict, you're always aware of the possibilities your propensities bring. battling always to know your truth and keep the heart from treading down certain paths. in this, there need not be shame, but only acceptance and awareness.

some people are better at this. some seem to be born with this spirit of worthiness indwelling, and have managed, luckily and miraculously, to hang on to it. others, on the other hand, find it hard won and lost quickly. if we are indeed born with this indwelling spirit of whole worthiness, then for some, it is stolen violently or insidiously throughout the course of life. still others find it stolen early in their heart's development. their blueprint it seems, was lost and is now burning somewhere in some far off trash heap. for all, we find it damaged and tried at points throughout life to be sure. but for those from whom it is simply robbed, along with their face-- their very identity, humanality, and sexuality, as it was always meant to be, feel utterly un-whole in a fundamental and unique way. those brave and (fortunate) ones who battle through identity theft of the highest magnitude, wandering lost, hiding themselves, or simply jumping off their own cliffs willingly into self-destruction as a means to say in essence, fuck you, and fuck it, are indeed fortunate as they are held tightly, close to the chest, and forever loved in a special way. their hearts carried throughout their journey by a God most high who leads them on their path to integrity and balance with a special patience and care yet unknown to those who walk with it intact. once they have labored for it, they feel their worth in their hands and care for the precious build up of it in others. these are the listeners, the counselors, the artists, the crusaders, the caretakers. these are your neighbors, these are your spouses.

for the moment you sit staring up at a black sky, in your own space you have made, and on your own two feet, proud, but yet a million questions spinning in your mind and heart.. what will i do? what will he do? can they be trusted? what will happen? what will be the outcome? can i handle it? and you allow the swirl, but it's not long until you feel care step in, and you just.. breathe. you have chosen not to suffer, you have chosen not to live in anxiety or in a false sense of control. the love and worth and emotional ownership mountains you have spent your life climbing, crying, and bleeding for, you have earned them. you have done the hard work and continue the path some venture not. you don't blame them, but for you, brave you, there is no turning back. for this, you are allowed to say in comfort and assurance, you have done well for yourself, and feel no discomfort or conceit. because your worth comes not from outside choices or circumstance or someone else, but an internal strength and a knowing that you will never be let go.

thank you to emily. you inspired this. and me. often.

the very definition of self care

2011-10-11T22:36:00.000-04:00

listening to justin vernon's soul clearing rendition of i can't make you love me for about the 100th time (thanks for the reminder ej), while eating my favorite homemade soup which was accidentally(?) made too spicy for nearly anyone else to eat and enjoy but me, dipping crusty fresh sour dough, sipping my favorite sweetly intoxicating red wine, legs burning, tingling, feeling alive from spin class, amazoning the dawson's creek complete series dvd set. ohsweetlord yes. life can be amazing if you slow down and let it.

on heavy rotation

2011-10-06T16:50:00.000-04:00

it's a robin thicke kinda day..

there's something electric about the changing seasons that spark your interest, heighten your senses, enhance your mood, soften your skin, tousle your hair, and moisten your lips.

fall back

2011-09-27T21:53:00.000-04:00

via:

what's for dinner, dear?

2011-09-21T10:36:00.000-04:00

Cajun Chicken Pasta!

images: the pioneer woman

i'll admit i was a pioneer woman holdout for a long time. too long. why? because i'm a food snob. you know this already, stop shaking your head at me. (something about the commercialism and flowery blog header, perhaps) however! i've let go of my ridiculous tomfoolery and fully embraced the delicious down home-ness that is the wonderful and talented Ree Drummond. i am fully converted to the church of pioneers. (and the irony is, she's even more commercial now thanks to the food network). but!

she is a lover of butter.
she keeps a bottle of whiskey in her bedside table.
she can COOK.
she has great hair.

in my head, we're friends.

anyway, people, you need her recipes. no, you really really need them. i've made everything from her spicy pulled pork (oh. my. sweet. lord) to roasted portobello wine & bourbon penne to her summer stir fry. tonight, it's the deliciousness you see above. im thinking of adding some andouille. what do you think?

shit, that means i have to do the dishes ive been ignoring. i can't cook with dishes my sink. so i dirty more and fill it up. maid, where are you?

want to know what im doing/saying/reading/eating/thinking/looking at when i'm not blogging? of course i think you do. like the b&b on facebook. i'll be your interweb bff.

current.covet

2011-09-16T13:50:00.001-04:00

Marchesa silk-crepe strapless gown

click. zoom. there's even video. ohthankyou net-a-porter

also coveting: the $6,000 it costs to procure such sartorial glory.

(and an occasion to wear it)

a perfect storm

2011-09-15T19:24:00.000-04:00

and then i go insane and fly, fly far off the edge of rational thought. a darkness literally swirls in me, welling into a cacophonous symphony of passionate rage. when i was younger, the outbursts, the swirling hum was more-- often, less-- intense. tempered by frequency and immaturity. now, the hurricane and wind are trapped in clever sails, only to be released in a single gale force.

i want to blame my mother.
i want to blame the triggers.
but maybe-

it is something else. the spirit of some unbreakable, wild force dwelling inside. enter therapist. enter Jesus. enter responsibility. enter banality. enter exorcist. no matter.

is it possible for passion and intuition and fire to be passed almost genetically, as if through the blood, from generation to generation. is there some spiritual connection to be tapped into surpassing our own humanality, some intangible wind blustering & breezing through the trees of life, that have marked you from your very making?

you can't see it. you can't touch it. do you want to fix it? could you even? or could you only board up, batten down and prepare for the storm. and who doesn't love

a perfect

storm.

on heavy rotation

2011-09-15T01:20:00.000-04:00

it's highly embarrassing how many times i've listened to the latest from ms. machine on repeat. over. and over. i'm practically salivating for this new album. c'mon october!

also, im not really one to post song lyrics. im not the lyric poster girl. (watch, the next 17 blogs will now contain lyrics of some kind from some song you don't care about) it's far to reminiscent of a time when i doodled boys II men lyrics in my spiral notebook about my middle school crush not sitting next to me at the lunch table. who, by the way, was a complete tool. but! i digress. get out of my head, flo. just get out.

And every demon wants his pound of flesh
But I like to keep some things to myself
I like to keep my issues strong
It’s always darkest before the dawn

And I’ve been a fool and I’ve been blind
I can never leave the past behind
I can see no way, I can see no way
I’m always dragging that horse around

And our love is pastured such a mournful sound
Tonight I’m gonna bury that horse in the ground
So I like to keep my issues strong
But it’s always darkest before the dawn

Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out

I am done with my graceless heart
So tonight I’m gonna cut it out and then restart
Cause I like to keep my issues strong
It’s always darkest before the dawn

Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out

And I’m damned if I do and I’m damned if I don’t
So here’s to drinks in the dark at the end of my road
And I’m ready to suffer and I’m ready to hope
It’s a shot in the dark and right at my throat
Cause looking for heaven, for the devil in me
Looking for heaven, for the devil in me
Well what the hell I’m gonna let it happen to me

unpack

2011-09-13T22:51:00.001-04:00

and what would you do?

would you go on living? or would you empty your soul and hurts into a box and pack it neatly, sealing it carefully. guarding your heart, your life, your words, your love. for the sake of.. unbroken and assured security?

are our only choices recklessness or seclusion? or should the middle be a quest of great adventure and doing. loving. risking. breathing. unknowing. (why do we have to know everything).

my wise friend whom ive written about before told me today to look at both sides of my brain-- my argument-- and chose the middle. let it be, let it unfold. let life take you. but don't be a fucking idiot, ok?

in this middle, mistakes will happen. you will be unguarded. you will give, receive, serve, accept, love, make the first move, extend your hand, offer the first apology. but how beautiful will it be after you take those first treacherous steps, because you will walk and put aside your box, and maybe hold the hand of a friend while you do. somewhere, in the middle.

and the glory is that

regardless

you will walk

in love.

the b&b recommend

2011-09-09T09:47:00.000-04:00

g love.

avett produced alterna/blues/hip hop

31

2011-09-08T16:03:00.000-04:00

dating.

i can’t help but wonder, am i doing something wrong? is it me?

don’t answer that.

sometimes i feel like it would be easier if i had a “schtick”. let me explain.. in high school, i didn’t have a group, i was friends with a little bit of everyone. jocks, nerds, goth, stoners, good girls in lilly pullitzer, bad girls in studs. i liked them all, and found something interesting and me in all of them. ive dated the hyper-christian, the uber-conservative, the balls out liberal, the atheist, the political activist, the military guy(s), the financier, the cop(s), the tattoo guy, the crossfit guy, the photog, the latin lover, the blonde, the ginger, the beard, the no beard, the guy with nicer shoes than me, the guy who doesn’t own a couch. i like something about all of them, and see a little me there in each person. but none of them

Truly.

Fit.

i've pushed, i've grown, i've taken a break, i've put myself out there, i've stopped, i've started, i've given up hope, i've compromised, i've put my foot down, i've let go, i've given in, i've given up.

i'm tired. but i'm more than that. i'm confused. do we all have a schtick? or am i back in high school, proverbially sampling the baskin robbins 31 flavors of men, schtick-less? actually that’s not a great analogy, because i go straight for the chocolate peanut butter. Every. Single. Time. i bypass all the other flavors for the one i know fits me best and satisfies each and every part of me.

so where are you mr. chocolate peanut butter?

shit. you’re 9,000 miles away fighting for something, anything, other than me right now aren’t you?

somehow, i've gotta start liking vanilla.

hot off the presses

2011-08-24T10:53:00.001-04:00

new f+tm. yes! flo is one of my favs, and she doesn't disappoint with her latest. no sir. listen obsessively on repeat with me.

"What the Water Gave Me," the first video from Florence and the Machine's still-untitled second album, finds singer Florence Welch and her band pushing their secular gospel sound to an explosive extreme. The song, which was produced by Adele and Cee Lo Green collaborator Paul Epworth, is overwhelming in its bombast, yet delicate in its sonic detail.

-Rolling Stone

by the way friends, have you discovered Spotify yet? i do believe this kicks grooveshark's ass all the way down the street and back. synch your itunes library, stream anything free (like GS), make playlists, computer & phone. all in one place. SOLD!

back to school

2011-08-24T10:21:00.000-04:00

via:

brown dress with white dots

my taste in women

adventures through a new world

RTB

when the going gets tough, the tough get cookin'

2011-08-12T15:08:00.000-04:00

and that is exactly what's happening.

this weekend i am channeling the inner strength and southern culinary stylings of my mother and gettin' to it. what can i say? the woman knows how to get up n' over. right now i'm imagining her beaming with pride as i pay my bills on time, make my bed with all the pillows in their appropriate place, budget and chart out my grocery list for the week, and-- prepare one amazing SoCo sunday meal.

behold, the inspiration for my proper southern comfort feastly weekend: joy the baker. you had me at goat cheese & corn grits. (go here. you need this woman's recipes in your life, ok?) also, camp wandawega. wanda what? it's what happens when two insanely creative (and handy, oh my!) people come together and renovate an old lakefront resort in elkhorn, wisconsin with the greatest of ease. serious talent, seriously.. wanna go! i'm inspired and ready to kick some ass with a John Daly in hand. (don't know what that is? we have a saying in the south-- bless your heart.)

-the menu-

1st up: fresh corn & goat cheese grits. (yes, you are reading that right). unfortunately, very few people do grits proud. i generally hold to the standard that if i myself or my mother aint makin' em, i aint eaten' em. if you're from the north, im sorry, but you have never eaten good grits. never. so venture on down to the land of jim dandy and dixie lily and see what all the fuss is about. naturally, when i found this recipe, i about jumped out of my chair. grits. corn. goat cheese. WHAT. (feverishly scribbles ingredients on grocery list)

images: joy the baker

next on the docket: bourbon orange coriander bbq chicken. i knew i'd be glad i kept that bottle of makers mark in the cabinet.. remember kids, never throw good booze away.

images: joy the baker

and for dessert: (duh, have we met?) peach cobbler. but not just any old cobbler. le whole peach-- cobbler. im pretty sure that's how they say it in france. behold this amazingly sophisticated dish requiring much technical skill. you even have to get your hands dirty to make the coconut almond topping. joy calls this "fake out pie on the quick". i concur. and be encouraged, because it is perfectly acceptable to scoop out a little peach to make room for more streusel. priorities, people.

images: joy the baker

in case that's not enough eye candy for you, allow me to share my most precious find on the interweb this week: camp wandawega. maybe it's all the dawson's creek i was brainwashed with as a teen, or just my inner herb smoker emerging, but how delightful does it sound to run off with your new husband and renovate an old run down camp into a full fledged adult hippie playground? complete with TREE FORT? yes friends, yes. the work they have done (themselves!) is so great i can't stand it. props to the lettered cottage for featuring them this week. (who's down to go to wisconsin?!)

images: the lettered cottage

what's on your inspiration board-- and menu this weekend?

some unholy war

2011-07-26T17:15:00.000-04:00

a. winehouse/some unholy war

via:
jb pinterest
TKOW

line in the sand

2011-07-21T19:18:00.001-04:00

for the past couple of months i have been struggling with the task of writing honestly about what is going on in my life. my real one. i have erred on the side of caution and given both time and space away from my keyboard. mostly because what floats in my head in the pre-writing stages sounds jumbled at best and clinically depressed at worst. and no one likes a sad blogger. also, for a person of many words, i honestly don't know where to begin.

this week i found my starting point. the following is a comment exchange (yes, that long..) on the blog of a pastor whom i (actually) like and respect very much. interestingly, he hails from the denomination of whence i came kicking and screaming, and was introduced to him through the blog of a mutual friend of the pastor who, shall we say, "let me go" from the church. basically, it's funny how life is.

even if the jesus thing isn't your thing, i'd encourage you to read on and be so. i am honestly struggling. i am honestly angry. i am honestly hurting. i am honestly blaming, cursing, maligning-- God. i don't share this to gain sympathy or even prayer, but as a window. as a start. as some sort of line in my ever shifting sand.

the original post is here. add him to your google reader, he's good people. the context of his post, colossians 1: 21-23:

"Once you were alienated from God and were enemies in your minds because of your evil behavior. But now he has reconciled you by Christ’s physical body through death to present you holy in his sight, without blemish and free from accusation– if you continue in your faith, established and firm, and do not move from the hope held out in the gospel. This the gospel that you heard and that has been proclaimed to every creature under heaven, and of which I, Paul, have become a servant." [colossians 1: 21-23]

jen rants:
this is a great post, rex. as always.

here is where im having a problem– “if you continue in your faith, established and firm, and do not move from the hope held out in the gospel. ”

the “IF”. you are only reconciled if?

who does this if all the time? maybe there are people that are continually “established and firm” in their faith, but i don’t know any of them, and i know for a fact i myself am not one of them. this is where i run into a lot of doubt in my own walk. i am not an unwavering stalwart for Christ. and i don’t think i will ever be one, if im honest.

there are times when my love for Him is so deep and profound that words do not express my gratitude, peace and complete awe of His glory and unyielding love, and i am moved to tears. there are also times (like now) where i refuse to even pray. i don’t just forget or get consumed with busyness, i refuse. i don’t even trust Him with my words, and definitely not my heart. and worship? i would feel like a hypocrite even singing words of praises in His name. at best, i utter a single “mercy”. or a “why?”. and that is literally all i have. that certainly doesn’t sound like an “established and firm” believer who “doesn’t move from the hope held out in the gospel” to me.

yet i am a believer. a baptized one. one who even went to a church for 5 years that didn’t believe in the use of musical instruments. (i add this because surely i get an extra check mark in the “you made yourself unnecessarily miserable for christ” column). beyond this (and more importantly), i believe in the goodness and love of God and His sacrifice for us. i even believe that trial and hardship purify and direct your heart and course toward Him and are for your ultimate good.. i’ve experienced this.

but what about the times where you are so ANGRY with God because of the trials and pain you yourself endure and also for ones you love? when you see the person you loved destroyed by the effects of war? when you see their heart, mind and spirit blacken, and their eyes deaden because of their sight and deed, and their self-condemnation for it. the literal destruction of a person– God sanctioned. or the aftermath of death or an abusive childhood/relationship/fill in the blank?–God sanctioned. the lies and shame and gossip spread that turns friends into enemies and separates brothers/sisters in Christ.– God sanctioned. genocide and rape.– God sanctioned. i could go on…

what then? it makes for a torn heart at best. at least in my case. my point in all of this: what about our salvation then? what if i were to die today feeling all of this on my heart? it sure isn’t love for God’s word or mercy or sovereignty that i feel… it’s more anger and confusion. a questioning of His intentions. i identify with the colossions, as i was not brought up in a christian home and was once “alienated” from God. well, what happens after you find him (or rather He finds you), you taste the gift that only the cross brings and then life happens and your road aint so paved? Does that make your salvation an “if” ?

rex replies:
First off, when I read your comment my first thought was that you have a stronger faith in God than you realize. There are certainly times in life when we experience grief and disappointments that leave us angry with God…and even at times unable to pray. I know what this is like because I went through it after my oldest son passed away.

From a biblical standpoint, books like Job and the various lament Psalms (e.g., Ps 22, 42 & 43, 77, 88, 142, 143…to name a few) not only give us permission to be angry with God but also give us language that expresses that “complaint” (the meaning of lament) in very candid terms. I don’t think that having such anger and disappointment is a lack of faithfulness or in any way means that our salvation is in jeopardy. In fact, your comment reflects a profound faith in God because your anger and disappointment with God is actually an acknowledgement that God could do something about it…which is why we become angry and disappointed. God, in his sovereign providence, could do something about suffering but for some unknown reason, he has, at the very least, allowed it.

In regards to the conditional statement of Colossians 1.23, the condition is about not turning to other sources to try achieve salvation. For example, the condition is about living our life in Christ (2.6) with the faith that God has reconciled you to himself in Christ rather than living in submission to some other philosophy (2.8) that dictates what can and cannot be tasted and touched (2.20-22) as though your salvation/reconciliation with God depends on that philosophy in addition to Christ. In my next post, I’ll point out ways in which I believe this is done in our contemporary culture.

I hope that helps you understand the point of Colossians 1.21-23 more and helps you in your own faith. More importantly, I hope you know that you are a beloved child of God. I am sorry for the struggles you are experiencing. I wish it were different but with you, I hope in Christ for the day when he comes again and suffering will be no more. Thank you for your faith…it is inspiring.

2011-07-21T16:11:00.000-04:00

[g love/avett brothers- fixin' to die]

via:

jb pinterest

TKOW

bonnie tsang

adventures through a new world

2011-07-19T13:40:00.000-04:00

i'm not ready to write yet.. but here are a couple of my latest happy distractions for our mutual enjoyment.

lissie & AE.

great song, epic food fight.

courage & control

2011-07-15T11:28:00.000-04:00

deep pangs

2011-07-07T18:29:00.001-04:00

photo courtesy: john cullen

is there any life better than this one? for me, the answer is so definitively-- no. the dock, the water, the poles, the fir, the slippery rock, the windows. oh, the windows. this photo pulls something out of me that is deep and longing and life giving. outside it is cold and wet, inside the glowing light of warmth and smiles and silence and joyful noise corral in harmony.

what kind of life exists here? i sip tea in fuzzy socks and gaze and write and wonder out upon a grey early evening sky. a scruffy faced man fishes and smokes and builds and tinkers in a detached garage out back-- both of us, waiting. those flowers, i put them there this morning, and he nods a silent approval i see from my window. friends wind up our tree-shaded damp gravel driveway and pile out, pile in. warm water floods across dishes then across my hands, as i scrunch up the sleeves on my sweater and the scruffy man brushes my long, dark hair to one side and just.. breathes. i smell soap and hickory and pie, and hear boots and coat hanging and familiar voices. joyful tones.

soon i see smiles and covered dishes and taste the pure glory of-- it all. the floors are wood and worn with sounds built in, with a rug placed precariously over that spot i keep tripping over and goddammit if i bump into that end table one. more. time... we sit close at the table; but him leaned back and arm outstretched, me opposingly leaned in, hand rested on a half-smiling chin peering up slightly, engrossed completely. red wine, pears, curry, cheese, crusty bread are all a close arms reach, and i can smell the rain, as always, on each of us.

i stay dry and reach one hand in to feel the warm softness of skin across my chest and shoulder. scruffy shifts-- and now sits at attention. a muddled grumble, barely audible escapes. i gather plates and glasses and haul them over the cold grey slate to a deep, white sink. where they sit. couches and overstuffed chairs call, fire crackles, coffee brews, and glances exchange above a glowing conversation until the light of the lake reflected moon is all that lights our hallways. i stand quietly at my window, rain dancing across it. the heavy lock of the door, he latches. i feel the weight of steps toward. the wait, the wait is over.

if there were ever a place that i longed for with intensity, it is you, it is you. wait for me, im waiting too.

a window into my neurosis

2011-07-04T20:59:00.000-04:00

[note: this post previously had an entirely different title... but then i read it. thus the more appropriate title you see now]

i am a highly goal driven person. perhaps more so than what is considered normal, but i have come to accept this as part of my personality. i will do literally whatever it takes to reach a goal once i set it, and my nature is to lean towards the competitive side. (this is perhaps why i'm in sales). conversely, i am guilty of doing absolutely nothing if i don't have a goal set. in life, at work, and at the gym....

ahh, the gym.

this is not going to be one of those posts where i keep you updated on what my current dress size is or how many pounds i've lost, or post before (or after) pics, or any of that useless crap. rest assured. i actually wasn't going to blog about this at all, but figured, since this has become my main goal, it might warrant a share. come october 1st, i am running a half marathon with one of my good girlfriends. im scared and ecstatic and not entirely sure how it is going to be done, but we are gonna do it. i am looking forward to crossing that finish line after 13.1 miles with a great friend. i am looking forward to that feeling of shared accomplishment, knowing that we trained hard and did this together, both for ourselves and as a team... i also know that i live in the extremes and need something like this to slap me out of bed in the morning and whip my ass into crazy shape. sorry elliptical, you just don't cut it anymore. we are breaking up.

this. is. my. goal.
this is also the goal of a terrible runner. terrible.

when i was in high school, i rowed crew. what you may have gathered from the movie the social network is that this is an extremely physically demanding sport (comprised mainly of ivy league snobs with too much money, wearing an abundance of lacoste and ralph lauren, who row with their twin). it is all of that. times 10. twin not included. practice was 6 days a week, hours upon hours each day, early mornings, late nights. i was a size 2 and in the best shape of my life... and even then i incessantly complained and moaned about running even 3 miles. i often cheated, and was known to fake sick on running days.

all of this to say-- i'm not the world's biggest fan of running.

for about 3 weeks now, i've gotten serious about what i call "wogging" (walk/run intervals) and have gotten up to 6 miles. that's less than 1/2 of the total race, and i must confess i am no where near the pace i'd like to keep. i'm also weaving in spin classes throughout the week which are something that i actually enjoy, so that i won't want to kill myself or innocent bystanders/coworkers/fellow gym goers/eaters of ice cream. all run and no play makes jen a very dull girl. i have 3 months to improve. the clock is ticking, and i am feeling the heat.

you may have gleaned that i tend to put a bit of pressure on myself.. this is simply how i operate to achieve results-- goal. pressure. stress. and somehow i always pull through. this is also how i graduated college taking 18 credit hours a semester of nearly all bio/anatomy/microbiology courses. (thank you, adderall and starbucks). it may not be the healthiest way, but it's the only way i know how. at least im not ingesting upwards of 1500mg of caffeine a day anymore, people. i have gotten a bit healthier in that regard, and any day now im expecting my blood pressure to return to normal human levels.

[side note: i just had a flash forward moment to when i have children and to the horrible lessons i will be inadvertently teaching them with my insanity. i wonder if kids notice when you roll your eyes and check your watch during tortoise and the hare type lessons? or mutter quietly, fuck slow & steady under your breath? ... end note.]

on top of this ridiculous marathon, i need another added level of incentive. enter visual stimulation which appeals to my vanity, and images that one may print out and plaster across one's fridge as a means to curtail what one puts in one's mouth. yes, this is happening world. say what you want about kk, but she is healthy, toned and bangin'. she's also on my fridge.

images via: celebuzz

new goal: run a half marathon and skinny it down as to further accentuate small waist/ample booty ratio a' la kim kardashian. i have 87 more days as of.. right.. now.

to all those concerned for my booty's well being, you have nothing to fear. even in my crew days, the booty miraculously stayed. there just ain't no gettin' rid of it, y'all.

july one.

2011-07-01T00:04:00.000-04:00

via:

jb pinterest
street etiquette

TKOW

RTB

hello, long weekend

2011-06-30T16:23:00.000-04:00

Pear, Walnut, and Ricotta Crostini

Spoon these flavorful toppings over Simple Crostini or toast from a country-style loaf. Each recipe makes enough for 16 small or 8 large crostini.

Ingredients

1 1/4 cups ricotta cheese
Pear slices
Walnut pieces
Coarse salt and ground pepper
Honey

Directions

Divide ricotta cheese among crostini. Top each piece with several ripe pear slices and some walnut pieces. Season with salt and pepper and drizzle each with honey. Serve immediately.

via: MS. who else?

2011-06-27T11:11:00.000-04:00

It’s not the men in your life that matters, it’s the life in your men.

Mae West

Words to live by.

[via: TKOW]

a season of truth

2011-06-25T19:11:00.000-04:00

there are seasons in your life where you feel like you have lost everything. look closer, you haven't. these are the times where your strength is shown, your character solidifies, and your iron sharpened. look at the people around you during these times.. REALLY look. those are the people you truly call, friend. you will most definitely be able to count them on one hand. ignore the rest, rise above. leave behind the chatter and gossip. it is cheap, and only drags you to a place you don't belong. above all, it hurts others. set an example, even if you feel it is too late. it isn't. keep your head high and know deeply who you are and

where.
you.
come.
from.

say this to yourself until you are strong enough. say this on your knees in prayer. say this until you can be thankful to God for this season. say this humbly in faith. say this because it's true. say this-- until you can forgive.

[good] grief

2011-06-14T16:13:00.001-04:00

over the weekend i watched Rabbit Hole. not the happiest movie i've ever seen, but possibly one of the most honest. honest in that when tragedy hits your life in some way, you typically respond in an understandably ugly manner. those responses are varied, obviously, and most times ungracious. a death, a betrayal, an ending of a relationship or friendship. you respond, it sinks, you deal, you carry, you breath, you live, but parts of you-- die. everyone expects and gives you a period of grieving in whatever way you need, but what happens after? what happens after you have been changed in such a fundamental manner that the very way you relate to certain people, places, and seemingly insignificant things are forever changed? what then?

this movie is about the what then. it is about the fumbling, varied, and tragic ways we move on and self-mend our wounds (or don't).

im a sinker. i'll admit it. i will sink and feel every inch of tragedy until i can't stand it anymore and have analyzed it ad nauseum. (my own self-contempt for this reaction comes later, along with my inability to really forgive, but that is an entirely different discussion). Ive known others in my life who seem to take their grief to the city dump, drop it off, and plan never to return (why would you?). Basically, what's next? The church reinforces this-- 1st, whatever it is, it's "god's plan", and there aint no arguin' with that. 2nd, it happened for a reason. so take your mysterious "reason", and hang on to the fact that you at least for the moment, and maybe forever, have no idea what that is. nice of God, right? more "planning" you aren't a part of. 3rd, make peace and forgive. what i have found is that when God speaks of forgiveness it is a gift and a freedom for you if chosen. what i have found is that often when the church speaks of forgiveness it is more of a duty, a 1 step formula, and what we are "called" to do. all at once thoughtless, rote, devoid of meaning, and therefore stripped of its powerful gift.

sorry, that was a lot. (sinker, remember?). let me put the wind back in your sails.

yesterday i pulled out my bible (sliiight layer of dust) and just opened it without a passage in mind. sometimes i like to do this and just see what happens. like hey god, what's the soup of the day? sometimes it works, sometimes, no soup for you, and im reading some boring lineage in dueteronomy. thanks a lot. (sorry?). yesterday i was dealing with a problem, with no plan of action, and the soup of the day was isaiah 45. good soup.

it's long, so i won't copy & paste it (and it would probably be confusing to those just passing thru to see a bible verse next to nudity next to an outfit i like that kim kardashian wore). but essentially here it is-- im God. relax. i do what i want and sometimes you won't understand. i bring amazing goodness into your life even when you don't even acknowledge my presence. i also create darkness. yes, darkness. it's also for your good. why? because i created the earth and am sovereign. over everything. over everything. whatever it is, lean here. i can handle it.

regardless of how you deal-- sink or dump or rage or something in between, you will go on. you will taste good. you will weather more bad. you will perhaps walk with a limp or maybe run a beautiful, entirely different race than what you initially set out for. but you will go, and God will still-- Be.

in this way, your grief will be good. not goodness because you are broken and bleeding, but good because it has purpose, meaning, and will enable you to see light and truth with fresh, awakened eyes.

i have asked many times-- to myself, to friends, to God-- "when does it go away? when will i stop feeling it?" This is the best answer i have ever heard:

BECCA: Does it ever go away?
NAT: No. I don’t think it does. Not for me, it hasn’t. And that’s goin’ on 11 years. It changes, though.
BECCA: How?
NAT: I don’t know. The weight of it, I guess. At some point it becomes bearable. It turns into something you can crawl out from under, and carry around — like a brick in your pocket. And you forget it every once in a while, but then you reach in for whatever reason and there it is: “Oh, right. That.” Which can be awful. But not all the time. Sometimes it’s kinda ... not that you like it exactly, but it’s what you have instead of your son, so you don’t wanna let go of it either. So you carry it around. And it doesn’t go away, which is ...
BECCA: What.
NAT: Fine ... actually.

the past couple of days, i felt my brick. and it was... fine, actually.

self care: weekend edition

2011-06-10T13:46:00.001-04:00

im off... to do very little this weekend. all i really want to do is cook something new, drink tea, watch something's gotta give no less than four times, write, drink wine, walk for hours with my dog, listen to good music, sleep on fresh blankets, and maybe-- maaybe give myself a pedicure.

i'd also like it to rain.
can you take care of that for me, God?

vegetable & edamame pasta with basil/avocado cream sauce

wild shrimp & peas with curry leaves and & coconut rice

full stream: bon iver

2011-06-09T17:33:00.001-04:00

<p>&amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;someone&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;gt;</p>

someone else said it better, enjoy friends. album out june 21st.

"Bon Iver's Bon Iver is Justin Vernon returning to former haunts with a new spirit. The reprises are there – solitude, quietude, hope and desperation compressed – but always a rhythm arises, a pulse vivified by gratitude and grace notes. The winter, the legend, has faded to just that, and this is the new momentary present. The icicles have dropped, rising up again as grass."

who the fuck is bon iver? so glad you asked.

summer love

2011-06-08T12:54:00.003-04:00

compiled via:
jb pinterest
PTO
culinary porn
RTB

current.covet

2011-06-08T08:59:00.000-04:00

the staple of my s/s wardrobe and all around go-to outfit has been the cropped denim jacket and maxi dress. it's comfortable, easy, and chic. this jacket is the perfect length and the dress is nice because it hugs in all the right places, ladies. pair with aviators and a killer bag, and well... here you have it. all i'm missing is the ridiculous 20 carat diamond rock. ohh, kk...

kk's:

dress: bebe (conveniently out of stock)

jacket: current/elliot

sandals: sam edelman

aviators: chanel

bag: fendi

[more kim en maxi]

B&b

2011-06-06T18:21:00.002-04:00

per the title of this blog, i would be remiss not to share gem this with you--

tara lynn, candice huffine & robyn lawley, photographed by stephen meisel on the cover of this month's italian vogue. below are just my favs, but do yourself a favor and view the whole slideshow shebang. if you take issue with tasteful, artistic nudity, feel free to click away and not send me an email. if you're the jealous type, make sure your man is out of the room while you peruse. if not, enjoy, and feel good about the female form. props vogue.

more tara: elle france, march 2010

in motion

2011-06-03T11:43:00.000-04:00

Mindrelic - Manhattan in motion from Mindrelic on Vimeo.

pretty neat. full article courtesy The New Yorker

oh snap

2011-06-01T08:33:00.000-04:00

@whitegrlproblem White Girl Problems

I'm obsessed with how obsessed you are with me. #whitegirlproblems

on heavy rotation

2011-05-27T15:45:00.000-04:00

your summatime Rx for:

FSS (Frantic Spreadsheet Syndrome)
GUM (Generalized UnMotivation)
SARS (Stuck inA Rut Syncope)
KP (Katy Perry-itis)
General Malaise

press play, sip plenty of sweet tea & enjoy.

like hookers & peanut butter

2011-05-26T12:46:00.000-04:00

James Blunt - Same Mistake by Warner-Music

everywhere i go

2011-05-24T16:03:00.001-04:00

so, a life update. in list format:

new job
new puppy
half-marathon training. what's WRONG with me?

recalculation of

        friendships
        plans
        needs

listening to a lot of

        lamontagne
      raitt
        lissie

readying for

summer
sweet tea filled sun drenched weekends

consuming a lot of

sweet potato fries
avocado

thinking a lot on

        waiting.
        provision.
        restoration.

watching a TON of

        mad men
        mad men
        mad men
        dhani tackles the globe

coming soon to a bootyandbrains near you

early summer playlist
new recurring blog spotlights: man worth mention, [team work]

re fresh

2011-05-19T19:52:00.001-04:00

while scrolling through the food section on WSJ online, i came across a most delightful heading:

Buy Two Bottles, Make Six Drinks

With the flavorful liqueurs Aperol and St. Germain, sophisticated summer cocktails are dangerously easy

St. Germain, an all time jen fav, sucks me in. i peruse in delight and this one catches me:

Elderflower Iced Tea

1½ ounces Earl Grey–infused gin*
1 ounce St. Germain
½ ounce lemon juice
Lemon wheel

Shake with ice and strain into a highball glass over ice. Garnish with lemon.

*Infuse 750ml gin with 1 cup loose leaf Earl Grey tea at room temperature for seven days. Strain out tea before using.

shocking, because then i see who makes it...

from Dana Tough and Brian McCracken of Spur and Tavern Law in Seattle

sigh/giggle. Spur, a delightful & delicious place that just so happens to be the very first place i ever ate dinner in Seattle. if you find yourself in the city, GO. if you don't know who they are, educate yourself.

side note: what the hell am i still doing in FL? sideside note: weekend make: Elderflower Iced Tea.

for give ness

2011-05-19T09:32:00.002-04:00

Hello my name is jen and I am unforgiving. Meaning, I don’t forgive well—or completely—or mostly. I do say such things as, “it's a process”, which it is, but use that more as an excuse to lolly gag around forgiveness while talking about it abstractly and appearing slightly evolved and profound.

But- I have a new definition. This helps me because my sick & simplistic mind tells me that if I can define something, I can then turn it into a goal. Once “goaled”, I find it reachable. Once reached, it gets a check mark next to it on my moleskine of life.

$60 wrapped around a bottle of vitamins with a rubber band. That is my new definition of forgiveness.

That’s it.
Right there.

The other day, in the midst of busyness and putting out fires and taking deep breaths, something happened. And I reacted-

Immediately
Harshly
Insanely?
Per usual.

In a calling all cars move, I circled the wagons like most of us do during our time of need. I sought feedback, approval of my emotions, and a place to air my colorful frustrations. Venting.

In the middle of my rant to a beloved older and much wiser female coworker to whom I frequently discuss the little nothings and giant earth movers of my life & thought processes to, I was describing this scene [and read this drenched in sarcasm] of great offense. This heaping imposition and encroachment into my life. How dare he?! How pathetic! How passive aggressive! She listened patiently to my belligerent whining, and then with no other comment, further validation or warning slipped in, “I sent $60 wrapped around a bottle of vitamins with a rubber band to my ex”.

You should have seen my face.

Knowing the details and precise significance of why this shocked me so isn’t important. Just know it is a leap. A mountain of unexpected kindness and Christlikeness I simply do not posses an adequate understanding of. It was huge.

And I yelled at her for doing it.

In my mind this was not only insane, but weak, and her kindness would clearly be taken advantage of. I wince even typing that sentence. But oh, I continued..

Previously, she and I had some similar situations where we vented to each other and commiserated over our forlorn and trampled hearts, and this went on for some time. I grew to detest this person who hurt my friend, and at the mere mention of their name, I could feel my body tighten and pulse quicken. How could you do that? I can’t believe you, she doesn't deserve it! Accept her place in your heart, but that door is slammed forever. She calmly and coyly replied, “you were always more hard nosed than me. I would rant to you and then go behind your back and sometimes still talk to her”. Wink. We shared a good laugh, and then I probed, but the vitamins.. Why?

“she needed them. i don’t know. Forgiveness.”

I cried my entire commute home. Realizing that if I had forgiven, my speed bump of a tragedy would not have been the upheaval it was. Everything is an upheaval when your heart sits that way; off kilter, parts hardened, unforgiving. You hit a bump, and you go flying.

Originally I had intended this post to be a statement about how a self described ‘pagan’ lesbian taught me by example (and accident) more about forgiveness than anything I had ever learned from any “bible study”. But it matters little to further bludgeon and examine the line between what is “Christian” and what is of the rest of "the world”. I don’t care to try to delineate those smudged grey chalk lines. It doesn’t matter if she identifies as a Christian, which she does not, yet displays His characteristics more often that I do. Nor does it matter that she is homosexual, which I am not, so I am somehow “safe” in the Christian community. What does matter, is the heart.

She did teach me something, and it was something deeper than what I had anticipated. Forgiveness yes, but also a reminder that the spirit of the Lord and therefore the fruits of the spirit dwell irrevocably within all of us regardless of how we self-identify; our religion, our sexuality, our politics. And that the ability to touch, move, and shape life is a gift from our creator. It exists within the people you love, the people you hate, and the people to whom you should send a little cash and vitamins to.

current.covet

2011-05-18T07:55:00.000-04:00

this look:

all of it.

in keeping with my current 70's obsession, this falls within those bounds while still looking put together, modern & structured. i love any pant length this perfect and a lingerie inspired top it looks like you woke up in and threw a jacket over. go ellen. did i mention she is 41? i know...

kate who?

2011-05-13T17:38:00.001-04:00

ok. what's all the blah blah blah about kate upton? she does the dougie? great, so does michelle obama and sassy 10 (and 26) year old girls everywhere. she's crazy gorgeous & photographed by the great (and i do mean great) yu tsai? and? here for your viewing pleasure are some ladies who have some actual flava and know how to use it.

minka!

white oxford. glasses. loubs. yep.

rosie!

started my yu tsai craze

janet!

skin. smile. curves.

[real post soon, pipe down.]

locked.up

2011-04-25T22:02:00.000-04:00

some days, my heart aches and there is no fully understanding anything but that ache. Not why, not what caused. just a dull, empty wound. to fill to distract to work to cover.

i call out to you, but all i feel is your curse of loneliness weighing heavily, heavily on my whole body. of what it means to be a woman. one of demand and of free spirit. i'm tired. i look around and see all moving on feverishly; my feet move too, but somehow stationary, with a stale taste, and all the while still pouring out my soul to the same emptying well. i hold myself in contempt.

to be noticed, to be heard, to be cherished-- it’s what we all want. even if it is by one. i want him to see, who ive made myself to be.

and while i wait, i burn. for you to unlock the tower and bring me forth. to call me to being, maybe for the first time, without false start and stop. but i feel the resentment choking the free air inside this locked room. and i grasp at the nothingness you’ve left us with. for now there are no keys, only you and me.

70's style

2011-04-24T14:30:00.002-04:00

so, ive been bitten by the 70's bug. i cant tell you exactly the moment it happened, but it was somewhere between getting my nosed pierced (who does that at 26 on a whim anyway?) and all the spring vogue/HB/fashion tumblr-ing and stumbling upon a picture of my mom and her dark, waist length stick straight locks circa 1977. in a yellow vw bug. yes.

anyway, ive got it, and none too soon if you ask me. ta ta 80's yuck and jeggings and neon and tapered leg. HELLO maxi, long hair, easy peasy, sky high wedges, and pants you can breath in (well sorta).

behold, my 70's inspiration board

yes CG, this is a skinny jean. hush, i made one damn exception.

want to know what i'm doing when i'm wasting time and see where nearly all of these pictures came from? follow me on pinterest!

elie saab for the win

2011-04-21T17:47:00.000-04:00

via french frosting

current.covet

2011-04-19T14:02:00.000-04:00

my favorite from lanvin RTW s/s 2011

best seen in vogue, april 2011

to die for. no accessories or shoes needed.

2011-04-18T16:59:00.000-04:00

im here, my life has just exploded.

there are so many things going on 'round here, and not enough time to do them in, or even think about really. many interesting tidbits, articles, blog worthy ideas to share and a very necessary life update... im failing you. the 'to blog about' memo i keep a running tab of on my phone is getting long.. (yes i do this, shuttup.)

wait for me?

love,

bad blogger

you had me at

2011-04-16T20:46:00.000-04:00

california ease and french elegance.

while perusing this month's house beautiful magazine, i came across the most gorgeously designed and decorated home. this house is me, personified. i turned each page deliciously, taking each room in with delight. the white backdrop, the stacks of books, the exposed beams, the whimsical details, the kitchen, oh my.

the designer, myra hoefer, describes it as such: "it's an open, casual house to begin with, and my first take on it was that everything should be white. so we painted the whole place out, the color of bones, then we furnished it in a modern, monochromatic way, very soft and subtle, with lots of pieces we bought in france. we had plenty of things to give it soul and character, and i wanted the backdrop to be clean- a clean, chalky white that looks as if it could come off in your hands, like powdered sugar on a cake. it has layers of depth, which gives it a lot of movement and a little mystery."

i have a thing for decorative pears. true story.

and just when i needed a little more.. something. goat leg bar stools.

spooky sticks, witchy light fixture, unfinished wood. yes.

gloriously impractical mirrored drawers.

sigh.

a visual stream of conciousness

2011-04-06T17:56:00.002-04:00

tis the season for flowy dresses.

where can i buy these?

come and be my puppy please.

want.

!!!

sunday morning.

hmm, bangs?

good basics are key.

good dogs too.

lets go!

cant resist.

florida springtime, suckas.

wanted: carnivore with a beard.

always.

another ticket.

via:
brog
brown dress with white dots
my taste in women
that kind of woman
fashion gone rogue
fuck yeah frenchies
black.white.yellow

so what if im a little crazy

2011-04-06T16:01:00.000-04:00

a² + b²= sofuckingtrue²

^{via brog}

thought:

2011-04-05T14:02:00.000-04:00

i need to let my hair grow out again.

via sallynstuff

happy weekend

2011-03-26T15:22:00.002-04:00

go get 'em y'all.

[jake davis]

cheers

2011-03-25T16:27:00.003-04:00

..to these two.

So, this week heaven got a lot more interesting. My fascination with e. taylor has been one of fiery/curvy/loud mouthed hero worship (shocking right?), and grew after reading "furious love", the 500 page biography of her relationship with richard burton. (original post here)

The above interview in 1970 pretty much sums them up. cheers, liz.
and cheers, furious love. you never last. how could you?

[note: video better viewed here. it's not embedding right for some reason. grumble.]

shutthefuckup!

2011-03-25T12:22:00.001-04:00

damn. it hurts so good.

Ladies,

2011-03-23T23:37:00.001-04:00

[a satire piece by bootyandbrains.]

i am here to give you my completely unsolicited, yet ever so accurate advice on men. read on and take with a grain of salt. (but you know im right)

lovelies, there are many kinds of men in this world. good men, bad men, sweet men, small men, tall men. however, and more importantly, there are the further and more easily pegged categories of “ass”, “boob”, “face”, “leg”, “everything”, and “personality” men. no more, no less. that’s what we’re workin’ with. i know.

now, i’ve done my research and put in the time, and what id like to share with you are my (slightly less than) scientific findings about each of these men. i have a bachelors in biology with a minor in tomfoolery, and a PhD in people reading. i feel this gives me menial credibility, pomp & circumstance. through my tireless years of dating, knowing and relating to men, coupled with patiently listening to and mentally recording countless stories (data) from girlfriends, i have come up with the following conclusions.

ready? ok.

the boob man: accounts for most american men. the boob man is the white bread of the group. simple and easy to please, he likes boobs, big ones. he also likes baseball, dreamt of being a fireman as a kid, owns a yellow lab, and prefers draft beer. as the 2nd best man of the group, the boob man will walk you to your car and open doors for you, and perhaps even take you to meet his ma n’ pa, however his eyes and focus are generally.. adrift. if you would like a sincere conversation with depth and meaning, the boob man will need you to wear a turtleneck that day, and will hope that next time you’re not in the mood for deep philosophical probing. his thought: where are your boobs and when may I play with them next?

oh this isn't a prime example?

The face man: the nice guy, 3rd place. the guy you know you should like because he is sweet, laughs at your jokes, brings you flowers for no reason, and says “whatever you want sweetie”. he is the guy who, despite all your trying, you’re just not that into. face guy likes craft beers, knows a lot about wine, reads the wall street journal, has never ridden a motorcycle, and rarely gets a speeding ticket. he’s a lovely addition, but like that christmas sweater you only wear in front of your great aunt, he’s just not your taste. usually this is someone your friends talk you into giving a second chance, and then before you know it, you’re at fucking bed bath & beyond together picking out a new shower curtain. unlike the boob guy, the face guy likes to get lost in deep conversation because, well.. he likes your face. he buys you books and picks out music he thinks you will like, and 9 times out of 10, he’s spot on. i know, it hurts me too, but the face guy is just not for you.

sad but true.

the leg man: girlfriend, we are now venturing into unsavory territory. leg man is a borderline personality disorder narcissist. if you have ever seen that episode of Sex and the City, he is the "modelizer”. now, I am only 5’4”, but I assure you my conclusions have come from outside, more leggy sources and my own petite biases are not influencing my scientific analysis. all men love nice legs, but the leg man wants you between 5’9” and 5’11”, in a mini skirt, and carrying a martini at all times. he cares little about the size of your breasts or what your face looks like, as long as you keep up your stairmaster regime. leg man prefers blondes, takes business trips to cabo, and does ‘import/export’ for a living. he owns more shoes and Prada than you do. eat a salad with the leg man, don’t skip your 6am spin class, never miss a manicure, and you’re sure to have a nice trip to st. maarten in the works. but hear this: not the man you grow old with.

take off those aviators, you don't deserve them.

The everything man: deep breaths.. “everything” man can go both ways. he is either lazy and says, “oh, i just like everything”, or he is the leg man on perfectionist crack. i hope for your sake it is not the latter. a true everything man is intelligent, incredibly handsome, wears a suit to work, drinks hendricks, and forgets to call you on your birthday. he likes his women witty, with a harvard business degree, to look like giselle, and to fuck like sasha. everything man sees that chip in your nailpolish, the stray grey hair (not that i have any..), and reminds you of your waxing appointment with olga. hey, at least you’ll be hairless. think christian bale in American Psycho, minus the whole serial killer part. maybe.

'i can do 1000 now'

the personality man: let it go girl, he’s gay. but! you can still go shopping together.

tom ford cruelty.

you are probably thinking to yourself, “self, I don’t like any of these options. boob guy was just ok, face guy was sweet and boring, leg man was superficial, and everything man is a serial killer. what do I do jen, what?!” fear not, for i have saved the best for last. behold, the holy grail of men:

the ass man. [rays of light shine down, the heavens part, angels sing, and Jesus himself shakes his hand] let me be blunt. the ass man is where it’s at. it doesn’t even matter if you think your ass is that great, ass man does. ass man prefers to cook dinner with you and knows that the gym will always be there tomorrow. the ass man usually has class, good taste (he likes your ass doesn’t he?), is decent on the dance floor and has thousands of songs on his ipod. the ass man is a good kisser, saves children from burning buildings, wants you to wear something tight when you go out and to sometimes bring him a beer on the couch. oblige him. he cured cancer for Gods sake. ass man likes football and authentic mexican food. he also likes you to walk in front of him. i hear he also fosters orphaned dogs and can build a house from the ground up. yes, ass man is good with his hands. he will happily go shopping with you as long as he gets to see it on before you buy. ass man knows that what best accentuates a nice ass, is a perfect pair of shoes, and supports the procurement of such necessities. he is kind and considerate, loving and compassionate, and more often than not, well endowed. sorry leg man.

sanz

brando

smart man

good man

redford

kravitz. come on, you know he is.

gosling

2011-03-23T23:35:00.000-04:00

Campfire Ok at Oddfellows from Christian Sorensen Hansen

one day, something this cool will happen to me.

[reblog: rjc]

tonight, i am

2011-03-16T21:55:00.001-04:00

joyfully listening to this

with no guilt eating this and this

happily imbibing this

and after much ado, finally reading this

i don't often read books that have a video preview as it were, but this has indeed ruffled some feathers. the scope? far larger than i had anticipated and it may be a bunch of hooey, but nonetheless, it joins the bell happy family of books on my shelf. im excited, friends. side note: i have forbidden myself from reading any more right wing evangelical blog vomit about this book until i have finished it, and can properly and with intelligence, tell them to go fuck themselves. my blood pressure will thank me.. especially since i just ate my weight in cheese & wine for dinner.

oh.

2011-03-13T12:25:00.002-04:00

never will i ever tire of this man. ever.

one thing you should know about me

2011-03-10T01:06:00.000-05:00

nostalgia has hit hard over the past month or so. hard. in a good way that hard often brings.

im currently twenty six years of age. im single, live independently, pay my own bills (mostly on time), am an enjoyer of the little things in life, a good friend, stubborn, flighty, creative, classic, an entitled white(ish) american, food snob, shoe snob, booze snob, and coffee snob. i don't know how to change a tire but can design, create, bake and decorate a 4 tier wedding cake in two days. with the added help of xanax in the home stretch. i can't put together ikea furniture, but can row a 5k and explain to you the pharmacokinetics of penicillin. however, not at the same time.

as a woman, inherently built for relationship and to give life, i have devoted and given myself and body to many things- a degree, a dream, a church, a man, sex, status, appearance, Jesus. i put him last because my broken, human condition often does. i have had my heart broken and have broken others, because i could. i have run off many times, just to get swept away, and paid dearly for it.

i grew up with a father who was pleased with very little, and thus i learned, quite wrongly, that an overachieving lifestyle of keeping up with appearances was best. his hands are what i remember most about my childhood; either balled in a fist or all over me. in both cases, coming at me. my mother-- complicit, well-intended, loyal, quick tempered, and aching in desperation to make me just like her. instead of run, i preferred to collide. because fuck them that's why. i survived them both, yet carry their weight, on my back at times, like we all do with our parents. i lived to both please and defy them.

both the word and idea of pity, disgust me.

i ruffle easily but am seldom shaken to the core. i bruise quickly but can stomach extreme pain. im loud and often too much for some, and care for those that fall into the latter category very little. life is too short to laugh quietly, tenuously, or to speak meekly, in circles. breathe deeply and live passionately, but this, i have learned, will sometimes get you into trouble.

ah, trouble.

i always wanted to be the good girl. honest, i did, but never quite fell into that category. striving to be the joey not the jen, the sally not the jilly. not because they were 'good' by any societal norm, but because they seemed at an odd peace. one unattainable with the hurricane inside of my belly. i close my eyes, i see the wind.

collide i did with Jesus at 19, and discovered the peculiar construct we call church at 20. for the next four years i attempted to fit my square peg in a legalistic, righteous hole. it was here that i learned to hate-- what it means to be a woman, myself, my past, my story. i fell in the deepest love with a man who condemned mine and held contempt for his own. a perfect, charming man who was pleased with very little and who believed that an overachieving life of keeping up with appearances was best. a chaste, rote, sterile misuse of scripture coupled with disciplined, military status whore lifestyle bred deep disdain. it was here that i learned hidden rebellion and secret shame. i stepped out on both parties, yet managed to burn myself the most-- in secret.

here in this space i have written, mostly in anger, a lot about leaving that church. and written, mostly in self pity, a lot about this breakup. it pains me that what has not been told, is the evolution of a life i am quite fond of. nor have i given enough praise to the source of my fondness. i have not given you, reader, enough credit to handle any of the stories of my life i had thrown away or of the people i had thrown away along with it, in an attempt to 'eradicate sin and live the christian life'.

im currently mending, reconnecting, rediscovering, exploring. and damn, it has never been boring. stay tuned.

all i've got

2011-03-08T11:23:00.000-05:00

triggers
minefield
treading lightly
watch where you step
an engagement here
a memory there
scars everywhere
watch where you step.
lean into, but don’t push
to discomfort.
enter into, but do it gently
to your story.
you don’t have just one, however-
you have a minefield of uncovered stories.
they’re everywhere
all around you-
can’t avoid them
nor dismantle
you’ve tried that.
these are hard issues
hard memories
hard regrets
hard realizations
but
they make you
you.
lean. don’t run
nor pacify
the hard work of healing.

Wince.
Breathe.
Continue.

current.covet

2011-03-04T22:47:00.002-05:00

[Kim K in marc jacobs RTW S/S 2011]

if there is an article of clothing that describes me, it is the maxi dress. comfortable, airy, statement making. this one by marc jacobs is particularly lovely. you have to get the maxi just right-- the length, the fabric, the construction, the detailing. an imbalance in these key ingredients can make you look sloppy, or worse, pregnant. finding the right one for you is an art, and something says this one would fit yours truly brilliantly, effortlessly, in all the right places.

good story

2011-03-03T00:03:00.002-05:00

there's just something about a movie about a self destructive little girl and the people who try to save her that draws me in. says my inner self destructive little girl who watched this the day after a two day dan allender conference. kristen stewart was excellent by the way. i know, it bothers me too.

and then there was the delightful ewan mcgregor in Ghost Writer. this had me on the edge of my seat throughout and sucked me in. even after realizing it was midnight and i was sleeping alone and would need to do so in that very still & alert covers-up-to-your-eyeballs position akin to what you used to do when you were 6 years old staring at your closet doors convinced monsters would break free at any moment. my internal ambivalence at it's peak--

i dont do scary movies. ever.

oh but this is too good to stop. look, something exciting just happened!

but this is scary jen and no one told you it would be, its ok you can turn back.

no dammit i can't, ewan must get to the bottom of this!

stoppit you are insane and irresponsible for watching this so late.

but i just can't get over kim catrall's british accent and the fact that she is wearing a button down blouse!

pipe down, she's just classy slutty here.

you see. scary.

up next is robert duvall in Get Low. Haven't you ever wondered what people would say at your funeral? what stories would they tell, what memories of you would they share? and, who would come? duvall, the town nutjob/recluse gets it right-- have one while you're still alive, and then tell your story. the story of your life. scandal! genius! this has gotta be good right? im just imagining how it ends-- the death and burial of one story, a rebirth of new life and reconnection. i'll let this build a little longer. don't tell me or you're in deep trouble. and not coming to my im still alive, bitches funeral party.

somewhere only we know

2011-03-02T19:18:00.000-05:00

"if you have a minute why don't we go

talk about it somewhere only we know.."

-keane

current.covet

2011-02-22T20:58:00.000-05:00

perhaps i've been watching too many movies set in the hamptons. but i love this

open mouth, insert foot

2011-02-22T17:58:00.003-05:00

hipstercrite had a great post today about all the pretentious twenty something hipsters and their whiny angst ridden song lyric facebook statuses. (statusi?) (status'?). they're just so easy to make fun of with their beta-male tight leg wear & Toms (shudder).
*clarification: i have girlfriends that wear toms and look perfectly cute in them. in this isolated case i am in full support of the toms wearing. i can't wear them because i'm 5'4'' and have an ass like whoa, which is best showcased with a stiletto heel. however, if you're a dude and wear them, you should immediately eat a steak, punch yourself in the face, your girlfriend should break up with you, and your parents should kick you out of their basement.

anyway..

im giggling happily right along until i see THIS:

"Quoting anything Patti Smith instantly makes you cool, don't you know that? Especially since everyone is reading "Just Kids" right now. This is particularly excellent for the twenty-somethings who are going through an existential crisis and want to share it with the world on Facebook. Or for the angsty girl who likes to write poetry."

well, i don't write poetry, but i am in the throws of the patti smith literary orgasm, just kids, and i even blogged about it. aaand my facebook status today was a jay-z song lyric. fuck.

i need to eat a steak and punch myself in the face?

2011-02-21T20:33:00.000-05:00

so.. i stole this gem from a friend far far cooler than i.

and im glad.

because this is the perfect thing to pull me from my blah sicklyness.

the perfect clothing-optional dancing in the privacy of one's living room music.

..curtains drawn

monday afternoon

2011-02-21T14:17:00.001-05:00

cafe.j

2011-02-18T15:37:00.001-05:00

So i just got done eating the greatest sandwich in america and im here to tell you about it. about our love affair really. it’s still the early stages, so im always excited to see it and ever surprisingly delighted when I put it in my mo… at first bite, at first bite! it is satisfying, wholesome, but with a definitive edge, and oh so easy on the eyes.

people of the world, I give you.. the rebel rebel

smoked turkey

sliced avocado

jalapeno jack cheese

lettuce & red cabbage

tomato

homemade mayo

pressed, on real cuban bread

rebel rebel lives at my new favorite place in downtown tampa. admittedly, im hesitant to tell you about it because it seems like every fresh, new and exciting place i discover is my little secret for a time and then it explodes with annoying people and their even more annoying children. which makes it hard to go there in my yoga pants on a saturday with my macbook and sip my soy latte in peace. bastards. yes, im bitter. tampa’s urban, fresh, local spots are few and far between, so when I find one I shout with glee.. and then eat there every day. that is until it becomes overrun with soccer moms and the most heinous breed of ed hardy t-shirt wearing, D&G cologne drenched, waxed eyebrowed “men”.

its great- the coffee kicks starbucks in the pants, everything is fresh & seasonal, the people aren’t douche bags, and they have managed to stock a particular brand of jalapeno potato chips that are actually spicy enough for me. glory! it also happens to remind me a great deal of the wonderful Bedlam in downtown seattle. you had me at hello.

im a loyal girl, so i stay consistent with mr. rebel, only occaisionally dabbling in a harmless flirtation with the soup of the day when he isn’t looking. it’s just the way i am- obsess passionately about something, crave it daily, procure it almost daily, squelch every last bit of enjoyment out of it, and then.. move on. im sorry. im not good with food relationships. few things stick. but right now, rebel rebel and i are hot & heavy, and i can see us going the distance.

my place. ruin it for me and i will cut you.

Rachel Roy, Spring 2011

2011-02-17T18:03:00.000-05:00

love this.
and this.
oh lets not forget this.
i'd be remiss not to include this.
or this.

buckle up

2011-02-16T23:51:00.000-05:00

so for the past few weeks don miller has been posting this amazing 'creator' series on his blog. If you are a writer or really anyone who makes something- an artist, a chef, a designer, a doer- it's a must read. recently i have been waking up, checking my google reader (don't judge), reading his latest, and literally the first words i speak of the day are, "God, i love you don miller." not because it's overwhelmingly amazing, which it happens to be, but because it is exactly where i am and what i need to hear-- finding the balance of creativity and work ethic (i lean heavily on the former rather than the latter), maintaining openness & honesty in your work regardless of criticism, and how to just plain get out of your own way.

some highlights:

"When we are ourselves, we tend to find the people who understand us and there is a natural chemistry and so productivity."
"What you are doing, when you create something good rather than something bitter and reactionary, is displacing whatever it is that made you angry."
"Most of the things we worry about, as creators, never happen. We are not as rejected as we think we are, in fact, our creation has given us a greater community, even if we do have a few critics. And we did not fail as badly as we thought we would, and if we did fail, people hardly noticed.

this has hit home for many reasons, but mostly because i have recently taken some heat for what i say, what i write, and for who i am. now, i'm hardly a person to shy away from a fight or some good controversy, and it seems i am always being criticized for something-- on this blog and in real life. most of the time i could care less, can take the hit, and if im honest, love to stir the pot at times. however, when this criticism of your very nature, your very personality, your very style of relating comes from a person or group of people you care for; when those people don't get what you're saying and use what you love about yourself against you, that. hurts.

this space, my space, has always been an honest one. it reflects who i am and i am proud of that- good, bad, stupid, brilliant, vapid, deep, ugly, beautiful, pitiful, God's very creation. i am also proud of its and my evolution.. read back on my first entries and you might cringe. its ok. i do too.

but lately what i have been aching to write about, what lays heavy on my heart, are subjects that i have always felt are too much-- purging honestly about my childhood, things i have done, things done to me. i can tell you it's wild, and it will break me, perhaps in the very way i need to be, to do it. i have long been encouraged by a handful of people to write about these very things, but have shuddered at the thought of it on paper for only my eyes to see, much less yours. all the while knowing its impending surfacing. it's inevitable inescapability.

the problem: fear, criticism, misunderstanding, pity.

i have been asked, regarding this and many subjects, why do you even want to write about that? or, why not just keep that in a journal for yourself? my answer to that is story. i believe in it. you are here because you like what you are reading, or at least can't tear your eyes from the train wreck. i believe wholeheartedly that everyone, every single person has a story to tell and that they should. not only that, but they must in order to truly find themselves. i believe that we learn, heal, grow, connect and discover through other people and the stories they uniquely possess; and that God works deeply in those trenches. i believe in this process and the courage in vulnerability it tasks us with. i also recognize and accept that not everyone will agree or understand that.

but this 'creation' will take some heat. more than that, it would be open for commentary, opinion, and what im truly scared shitless of- revelation. it has taken me years to get to this point, but i am here. and ready. know that it is not my intention to depress or bore you to death, and this blog will still be sprinkled with fabulousness, irreverence, random inspiration, and most likely many pictures of my latest shoe craving. im still me for Christ's sake.

for the fellow creators out there- it's worth mentioning that for every one negative reaction, you get about ten positives. ironically, one of the biggest compliments i've ever received about my writing was by a person who hates me. it went something like this: ya know, i really can't stand you, but have you ever thought about getting published? you should. that, i will never forget.

i don't know exactly when it will come- the writing, or where i will even fucking begin. in time it will perfuse organically as it always does. but what i can tell you is that i will still be me, thoroughly authentic throughout the process, without apology. this blog will have the same tone of honesty it always has, and you may or may not be comfortable with it. But that is not my business as a creator. my business is to be myself, create, and let you worry about the rest.

booty wins the grammys!

2011-02-14T17:30:00.000-05:00

award shows are good for one thing and one thing only..

FASHION.

Now, those who follow this blog know that i have a slight crush on kim k, and one may think i am a bit biased upon deeming her best dressed at this year's grammys. So for the sticklers of fair out there, i have included my 2nd best ~~booty~~ pick, jlo, for good measure. the woman is over 40 and looks hotter than ever. last night was no exception..

slaying me with those shoes, jlo. comethefuckon.

his face says it all. yes mark anthony, i agree, i agree.

and now..

hair

dress

bracelet

shoes

perfect.

what's that saying? If ya got it...

SoCo

2011-02-13T15:54:00.000-05:00

reblog: ellemnop

2011-02-13T13:44:00.000-05:00

twas once said:

"yeah i read your blog. it's just about your thoughts and food? whatever."

-ex boyfriend