the coolest bathroom in the world...

Wow. 

Is summer break really over already? 

Where did it go?

How did it happen so fast?

Did I accomplish anything in the past three months?

What was I doing all summer long?

Oh yeah.

Now I remember...

Teamed up with my trusty, handy, super-hot, husband,

We turned this...

Into this...

Okay, seriously...scroll back up and look at that disgusting-ness again.

Dis.freaking.usting.

And it's not like we just didn't clean it. We did! A lot! It wouldn't get clean!

The floors were damaged from water and the super-cute-blue-checkered-linoleum was curling at the edges. We could only go two days after a good, deep clean before mildewy grossness started creeping up in all the corners because there was no air flow whatsoever. Unless you count the exhaust fan that, when you flipped the switch, would do nothing, not even turn on, for at least a good ten minutes. When you went to turn it off however, it kept running for maybe an hour. 

And our toilet seat...uffda! 

What an embarrassingly noisy cushioned disaster that was...

*Sit*...Poof! fsssssssssshhh!

But this...ahhhhhh...

Can't you just smell the lavender from the bath salts you know I'm gonna toss in there tonight??

So, anyway, before I make you too jealous...

That was our summer. 

We literally tore out our bathroom. Top to bottom.

Floors, walls, ceilings, plumbing, electrical, all completely redone, and all by ourselves with help from family. It was so much work, and I was so not expecting it to be that hard. In retrospect, I have no idea why I didn't think it would be that hard. But when the insulation and plaster were falling down into our eyes, and I was dodging hundred year old nails because I haven't had a tetanus in twenty years, I wanted to cry and wish it all away. I wanted to just close off the unfinished room, forget that we even started it and live with the fact that we would have to continue using this as our restroom...

(This is a toilet that is located in our freaky, creepy basement. We had to use this for almost three weeks.)

It really was miserable.

But, now it's over, and I'm happy.

Stay tuned for pictures of our temporary "shower" and a few embarrassing moments starring yours truly.

How the heck was your summer?

my favorite day...

Two years ago I had the best day of my life. 

My wedding.

My sister helped me dress, held my hand, and whispered sweet blessings.

A bed of petals were scattered to soften our steps...

My dreamy husband-to-be waited patiently...

Someone told me to stop crying, the music had started, and I needed to pull myself together and take my long awaited walk down the grassy aisle...

I felt like a princess in the veil my mom hand made for me.

Both my parents supported me as I took each slow step towards my future...

But then I saw him, his bottom lip quivering as much as my shaking legs. 

I fell in love with this man, my man, over and over and over again.

The women I love stood next to me, crying with me, and loving me.

Friends sung for us, and celebrated us.

And then, after vowing to each other the rest of our lives and the depth of our hearts, we walked away to "Bittersweet Symphonies"...

My new mom in law (who promised she wouldn't) cried with me out of joy.

We cuddled each other...

And I was so, so happy...

I surprised my new husband by recording myself singing "our song" and playing it as our first dance...

I laughed.

And then he held me.

And then my sister, my heart, spoke a stream of love and made me cry, again.

Then came my baby brother, my hero, and I had to stop my new husband from choking on his laughter...

Then, my brave husband tried to speak, but got choked up. 

It made it better.

Then we cut our cake! A funky Lithuanian cake, 'cause, we're like that...

We laughed...

And grooved...

And then my dad held me.

And I'll never forget it.

For a moment, I let it all soak in...

I'm a wife. I have a husband. We have a life together.

Forever.

And then it was over...

But we still danced.

And loved.

Now, two years later. 

Nothing has changed. 

His lip still quivers and I still get wobbly knees.

I don't feel like I have a husband.

I just feel like I have the coolest roommate ever.

All photos taken by the amazing David E. Jackson.

and then something dumb happens...

...and I get attacked by a bird.

Literally. No exaggerating.
Dive-bomb, direct target, brutal attack.

Riding my bike by the river today, I felt something hit my head.
I thought it was just someone throwing something at me again...
Yes, that happens to me...and more often than I care to admit.


But then I reached up and felt a feathery mass of body.

And I freaked out.

I tried to pedal faster, but my poor bike doesn't do faster.
I think there's only like, one gear. If that.
So my feet did that funny thing, you know, like when you're walking up the stairs in the dark, and you think there's just one more step than there actually is, so you step down too hard and you get that weird sinking feeling in your tummy...yeah, that.

Stupid bird kept diving down, pecking and scratching at my head!

Finally, after about a block, it stopped.
Maybe I hit it. I don't know.

It wasn't until later, when I went to go tell my sister what happened, that I noticed my hair was wet.
BLOOD!
B.L.O.O.D!!
I got freaking owned by a bird!

In hopes that this never happens to me again, I am hear-by offering a public apology to the birds of America...

I'm sorry.
I wasn't making fun of you when I wore this two Halloween's ago...

Please don't attack me again.

As always. The joke is on me.

pen and ink...

click to enlarge.

Ps. sorry for the crappy penmanship and spelling/grammatical errors.
Pps. I love you all.

how "being green" can sometimes lead to "bloody massacre"...

I have a strange relationship with lint. I just can't justify tossing it out when it could be saved and used for cool things like this. Seriously, how awesome is that?!


So, every time I empty the lint trap out, I just set it on top of the dryer until I can think of something to do with it. But, like almost everything else I set out to do, I never get around to using it and the pile gets bigger and bigger. Eventually, my husband will inform me that our basement lint population is out of control and threatens to throw it all away if I don't create a fiber masterpiece of my own. Then he gives me 'the look'...you know, the same one that debuted here...the "you're in big trouble" look.


With a defeated sigh, I will mumble something about not being free to be myself and how my efforts of creativity are stifled by his need for cleanliness, and then trek out to the backyard with two armfuls of dusty lint. I hang it in tufts on the branches of our crabapple tree and wait for the birds to come find it to use for their nests.


Turns out, a mama rabbit found our offering and dug a little nook in the tall grasses (read: weeds) next to the fence. Tucked inside were six tiny baby bunnies all snuggled together on a bed of soft, multicolored fuzz. The would-have-been discarded fibers of our socks, shirts, and unmentionables (why do I write about underwear so much??) had provided a soft, safe haven for those little babies.


But really, only a soft haven, because it was far from safe. Even though the nest was on the other side of the fence, even though we worked so hard building and designing it to keep rabbits out and that nasty, vile dog we call ours in, it wasn't safe enough.


While we were inside cooking up a fine spaghetti dinner, Lena was outside pacing the boundary line, salivating, and formulating a plan in that pea sized brain of hers. Escape was necessary and by any means possible. She violently tore the chicken wire off the trellis and gnawed her way through the crosshatch. Squeezing her whole body through an impossibly small hole, she landed directly on top of the sleeping babies.


I can't write the rest. I am honestly still shaken, and I think it would just be cruel to put into words the horror of what came next. You know what happens. You can imagine the rest.


And that's why this post will have no picture. If that disappoints you, you are sick. Sick!


Somewhere out there is a mother rabbit who has lost her family.
I hope she didn't see it all go down.
That would suck.


Lena and I are not on speaking terms.
She has totally spoiled the joy I used to get from saving lint.

once upon a time...

I was sixteen and had a disposable camera...

(Left to Right: K, Me, Kimberly, El.)

...and I was a bridesmaid in El's wedding.

These are my friends from years ago.

We met through a community theatre when I was only thirteen, and have stayed friends since.

Through my teenage years, I looked up to these women. 

We shared crushes, makeup, tears, secrets, clothes, bobby pins, shoes, hairspray, jokes, and break ups. 

And we shared gallons of glitter.

Then, I grew up some more, got a nice new film camera, and took this picture at Kimberly's wedding...

That's Kim on the left! She, in fact, has a blog herself. It's a crafty blog full of crafty things, recipes, and seriously adorable stories of her babies.

Once, I thought I killed her. 

I can't remember the details now, but it was my idea to get a late dinner at our favorite Perkins. 

We laughed a lot, as usual, and I remember being giddy with excitement to get to spend the next day with her at one of our theatre performances. 

On her way home, driving 70 miles an hour on the highway, she rear ended an SUV. 

Now, if my memory serves me right, there was construction, she was talking on the phone, and the SUV was parked as traffic was at a stand-still. 

If all of the above is indeed true, I'm not sure why I still blame myself for the accident. Even though it was my idea to get a late supper, the afore mentioned scenarios were much larger contributors to her collision, wouldn't you say?

The next day, I waited for her to show up to the performance. 

She was late. Really late.

Finally, someone came up to me and told me she had been in an accident the night before.

I was stunned. I cried and cried, I blamed it on myself.

If it weren't for me wanting to grab a late snack, if it weren't for me keeping her out late, she wouldn't have run into a parked vehicle on the highway!

They said her car was completely totaled, the brand new car she had just bought a few days before.

But, then they said, she only broke her nose, and she was safe.

Phew!

Anyway.

I went to the store to develop that picture, but I only had the negative...

Well, apparently, they don't know how to do that anymore. 

I handed them the negative and in return, I received the emptiest of blank stares I have ever laid eyes on.

And though they were all wearing name tags that stated, 

"19 years photo lab experience"

they clearly did not know how to handle this situation.

An hour or so later, after summoning several more photo technicians, I was given back an envelope filled with all of the pictures I did not want printed, and only one that I did.

Oh well.

More years passed by, and, even though I feel like the same. exact. person. in the first photo, I guess I must have grown up enough to get married myself...

That's ME! In the middle! At MY mostly-grown-up-adult-ish wedding!

This time, I erhm, actually, our parents had enough money to hire a photographer to take the picture!
 Luckily, I didn't have to sort through negatives to get a second print of this. I had it neatly stored on our trusty Mac. All I hubby had to do was zip it over to a USB and take it to the store to print.

That, they do know how to do.

I don't have much else to say about the USB.

Except that,

later that night, when I was dressing for bed, I found it nestled in my underwear.

No. I don't know how it got there.

I've retraced my steps, questioned my husband, and scratched my head.

No idea how it ended up there.

That brings us to the present, at "K's" wedding, where I completely forgot a camera of any sort.

So, I stole it from Kim's blog. Yup, I right-clicked that sucker. (but, ps. only I'm allowed to do so, so don't you dare try it yourself.)

You can read her side of K's wedding over on her blog, with a detailed, hilarious, and very, very accurate account of "the lake fly incident" .

Day to day, it never seems as if anything is changing. 

We feel the same, act the same, 

and looking back at our reflections, 

we think we look the same as yesterday.

But, for the four of us, most things have changed.

From disposable, to film, to digital cameras.

When once upon a time we giggled about boys and crushes while trying to adhere our false eyelashes.

Now we laugh and sigh contentedly about husbands, homes, and babies.

And it is good.

spring...

It's here.

The time of year for tulips, bike riding, and laundry drying in the breeze.

Muddy, sloppy paws that lull the mop out of it's corner for an almost daily debut.

Freckles peek out from pale hibernation to greet the sun.

Rings adorn my toes.

I cut through the soft grass in my sandals instead of staying on the sidewalk.

Lena snacks on butterflies and bumble bees.

Open windows sweep out the stale, wintered air.

Husband spends most evenings in the garage, creating, organizing, inventing.

I stretch out on the lawn chair with a good book.

Sip iced tea and lemonade.

Breathe. 

Deep.

We top off the bird feeder and I ask my husband, 

"How do the birds know where to find the food?"

He shrugs.

"I don't know, word of mouth?"