voyeur's paradise

Airports have always intrigued me.

It's one of those few sacred places where unabashed sobbing is permitted without the turn of a disapproving eye, and intense, public displays of intimate emotion is exhibited for all to see. The single tear glistening on a pink-kissed cheek, the wailing of children waving bye-bye as Daddy leaves for a business trip, and the near-cliche lovers' embrace that swoops the female from her feet, elevating her for just that single moment. Immensely powerful, solitary acts that, for that one second, convince you that no one else is there; no one else is watching, sharing this private moment.

They are fleeting events, and yet their power is undeniable. Ever notice when one of these such events occurs and amidst the sea of travelers, a part forms, passengers flowing around these exhibitionists, revealing this quick glimpse into a fraction of their lives. I love to watch it happen, almost as though it is an intricately choreographed dance. It happens in a fluid movement; pedestrians do not break stride as they move aside for the two.

There is no judgment here.

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I Did Not Cry

I did not cry. For two weeks I did not cry. As I laid there staring at the ultrasound monitor while the doctor kept adjusting the angle of the ultrasound wand, searching, hunting for a heartbeat, I did not cry. When we sat and tried to determine if our dates were “right” or if they could possible be “off” and the doctor spun his pregnancy calculator wheel to see if the measurements had any possibility of being correct, I did not cry. When the financial coordinator started asking about making our hospital copayment and for the first time I had to say that there was a chance the pregnancy was “no good”, I did not cry. Standing in the parking lot, reminding myself how to take a normal breath while my husband carefully looked me over, assessing to see if I was ok to safely drive the 45 minutes home, I did not cry. We waited ten days to find out that no, there was not a heartbeat, and no, the baby is not growing anymore. Still, I did not cry. I matter-of-factly...

adding a little jingle to November

if you know me, you know i love projects. some are larger projects that take months. most are projects that happen as follows: my mom: so, what do you want to do this weekend? me: well, i have this project i've been wanting to do... then we are off to michael's/hobby lobby/joann's/etc for goodies. then madness ensues. saturday we had this exact conversation once i arrived at my parents' house. i then showed her this photo i found from pinterest - and we were off to the store! the link i found was not linked to an actual tutorial once i clicked the link i realized there was not an actual tutorial attached. i realized this was going to be one of those "fly by the seat of my pants" projects (read: MY MOST FAVORITE KIND). part one was finding ornaments and a frame. i started with michael's who had this adorable assortment of christmas/holiday/seasonal beaded word ornaments. i snagged one and my mom got a different word. then we were off to hob...

be a light...

I believe in right and wrong. There is no grey area for me… I have come to realize that for most others this is not the way they view things and my perception is often too strict. That is fine. I accept that I am judgmental. Not accept in a passive, complacent manner, but in an “I’m working on it” manner. My struggle lies with the fact that I believe my extraordinarily judgmental, critical, perfectionist tendencies are what have brought me to this amazing, rewarding stage of my life. For that, I am not the least bit apologetic. However, the strict standards I hold myself and others to do not cause me to berate, ridicule, or patronize individuals who fall short of achieving those expectations. I have realized that we are all on journeys. Some people are simply further along in their journey than others. That is what makes life so intriguing, stimulating, and frustrating all at the same time! It is an intricate web of interactions; every day we come in contact with people who are ...

by. the. way.

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