It's not you (blog)...

...It's me.

For four years, Will and I have loved having a place to share what triumphs, struggles, and hilarities life has thrown our way, but our new normal (with sweet baby Hudson) leaves little time for book reports on life. I'd love to post more. I'd love to say I'll try, but the truth is, it's time to say goodbye to our little blog. Time to close this book and add it to the shelf.

In time, we'd love to start another blog-- this time with a focus. And we might just do that soon. (Very soon even!) But this one will remain frozen in time; a brief moment captured- with only the three of us (Will, Grace and I) in the masthead. So long dear readers, whoever you are (dad).

Onto new adventures as a family of four.

Thanks for coming along with us.

This is not a sprint, folks...it's a Marathon

Here we go folks... rounding the corner into what will be the completion of my 30th week among the card carrying members of the preggo tribe. This leaves only single-digit weeks remaining, which somehow feels like our little guy may as well be wiggling his way to the exit any minute now.

As Will and I sat at a little candle-lit counter in Napolese last night, gabbing over the most delicious pizza in SoBro, we marveled at how fast this has all gone. Was it really March when we found out that we'd be parents? I remember driving Grace down to Bloomington the morning after I cleared CVS out of pregnancy tests (while Will was in Miami)(hey, I couldn't wait) to soak up the first few days of spring. I was still snuggled in a fleece. Now, as we round the bend into Autumn, I'm reminded how quickly time really does pass us by. In fact, I dug the same fleece out of the closet this morning for the first chilly walk of the season before realizing it didn't even begin to close around my bulging belly.

And even though I know I have at least 9 more weeks ahead of me, I can't help but remember the feeling I had running the end of the Chicago Marathon in '01. I had breezed through the first 18 miles, strode into Chinatown past my cheering section with pep in my step, and even strode into the 23rd mile feeling strong. Then, there were the last 3.2. 30 measly minuets of running after 3.7 hours, and each minute felt like a mile. Each step, up hill, alone, under the McCormick's Place tunnel, and into the sun pressed against every fiber in my being. The finish felt so close (and it was), but I knew how much harder I'd need to work just to make it that short distance. With the iconic Marathon approaching next Sunday (no, I will not be lining my big pregnant butt up at that starting line), it seems only fitting that I am entering the toughest, "shortest," but most trying part of this journey. More now than ever before, I'm so grateful to have an amazing cheering section on my course, and so happy to be feeling strong.

In other news, the nursery is nearly complete (pics soon), and we are excitedly working through details that will lead us up to and through "the most wonderful time of the year." We are soaking up any bits of quiet time, tackling all of our work trips, and burning the midnight oil to veil ourselves in the happy illusion that we might be PREPARED for him to enter our world. Which is funny b/c we have no idea what we're doing. :)

Thanks for joining us on this exciting ride.

Hipstamatic

Will spent last week in sunny Orlando attending and running the Phi Psi Grand Arch Council, while G and I hung out near home-- left to our own devices for fighting off the raging heat. After the busy work week came to an end, we spent two long luxurious days sharing popsicles, shopping for baby goodies, napping, cleaning out closets and drawers, taking just-before-dark walks and cooking.

And come Sunday night, not a single item was left unchecked on my to-do list, which may have never ever happened before. (I typically start my Mondays digging through the dryer and wondering how I got mayonnaise in my hair post-shower).

With my new super-fun hipstamatic photo app, I snapped all sorts of goodies. Among them, my sweet fuzzy Grace, pie filling post hand-pitting cherries for an hour, a growing belly shot, and then (after Will arrived back home to enjoy a much deserved week of sleeping in), he and G snoozing as I bounced off to work green with envy.

Another busy week awaits before heading off to Watervale for some much needed R&R, Michigan cherries, cool mornings and swings with books on the Watervale Inn porch. I am refining my reading stack today, which is much more exciting than the prospect of wearing my newly acquired maternity swim gear. :)

Mr. Sandman, bring me a (what was I looking for agin?)

2:00am and I have paced every non-squeaky floorboard of our 80-yr-old house, fighting the urge to somehow quietly repaint the basement walls, wash my car and start emptying all the drawers in the baby's dresser while Will sleeps. If it's your body that starts really changing at 16 weeks, 20 weeks must be all about the mind.

Because I think I might be insane.

I drove ALL the way to Anthropolgie today to return an adorable hair clip that made me look like a resident of Whoville, only to arrive and realize I had left it on the dining room table (naturally). I thought it was Sunday until 10am (it's not), and I arrived home after a lovely dinner with friends tonight feeling, well, "unsettled." Why, you ask? I HAVE NO IDEA. But the feeling is so nagging, in fact, that I'm awake. Wide awake. And irrationally angry at Will for sleeping while I'm awake... at 2:00 (I typically lose most major motor skills and the ability to speak past 9:15pm. Ask anybody).

*Sigh*

When Will and I started dating, at the tender age of 17, I remember loving that he always smelled like fabric softener and soap, and thinking that he had the softest, warmest hands I'd ever held. Sometime in the first year of our relationship, I remember thinking that I wanted those hands to hold my babies someday. In fact, I told my friend, Catherine... who may have dumped ice on me. (Did I mention I was 17?)

It was a just a crazy thought then, but I think my head might actually spin around and explode when that small vision becomes a giant reality this December. Could all this craziness be attributed to my mind's conscious or unconscious way of sorting out the events of our lives and the astounding ways they are coming full circle? Could my "insanity" just be a heightened state of realization? Is it too late to eat a wedge of cheese and mull this over? *spend 8 minutes debating cheese*

*head to fridge. forget about blog.*

*remember blog*

*try to remember where I put MacBook*

*found MacBook*

See what I mean? :) Sweet dreams, friends. May tomorrow bring a clear(er) head.

Oh, Baby, that's ugly.

In keeping with my recent theme of highlighting beloved design spaces, I thought I’d take a second to talk about the serious lack of style in baby nurseries.

Why baby nurseries, you ask? Well, because Will and I are proud to say that we are preparing for the arrival of our first little one- a boy. Boy oh boy. :)

At 19 weeks (and 2 days)(but who’s counting?), we are in full planning mode. I have been so excited to design a new room, that I never anticipated baby bedding, gliders, mobiles, and rugs would all be so….YUCK!

I want to design a room that I could easily move into if I were very short and 8 er so pounds. The bedding should match the tone of bedding I’d buy for myself-- today. I want this little guy to wake up and feel inspired by the light and the beauty that surrounds him. Although since I'm fairly certain he'd be content in a manger, I at least need to feel inspired during my late night feedings. Isn't the nursery just as much for the baby as it is for the mom and dad? ;) If I am handed one more patchwork brown bear quilt, I am going to kick the Babies R Us lady squarely in the kneecaps.

So I’m on the hunt. The hunt for great modern bedding, deliciously designed accessories, and sweet, soft organics that don’t make me want to throw things. We’ve landed on several items (all adult BTW) for the renovation that include rich golds, dark navy blues, bright whites, and clean lines. I found amazing bedding (for, ahem, $400) at laylagrace, but also a cute and way less expensive alternative (dwell studio for target) that may work just as well for something that will ultimately be thoroughly pooped and vomited on. I would like to think that $400 baby bedding has some sort of self cleaning function... like good ovens do.

On second thought, a couple bags of critter cage wood chips might be just as effective (and cuter). Hear that Babies R Us? These are the cries of a desperate woman.

Here are a couple elements we've settled on thus far. Have ideas? Send em my way!

Work it, love it

After graduating from Indiana (ahem... 7 er so years ago), I realized how much I had taken the deep beauty of Her campus for granted. Wandering through flowering arboretums and into gorgeously sculpted architecture each spring was added nourishment to each of our blossoming minds.

Such a sad surprise to arrive at your first little job and see short grey carpet-covered walls, a grey desk, a brown cabinet and overhead florescents (shudder). How could this help anyone excel? I feel depressed just imagining it! Sure, I'd tote in a couple green plants, a rug, and my own lamp in hopes of making it my own, but the cube farms and sealed 37th floor windows always seemed more like sterile cells than places where new ideas were born.

I have been fortunate, though, since entering the ad industry, to work with folks that appreciate great design and beautiful open workspaces. Any why shouldn't they? We do spend the majority of our lives under these roofs. Still, I sometimes dream of working from home, and creating a space that's all mine-- where all of my books can live together in harmony- like all books should. Plus, I hear Golden Retrievers are the perfect accessory to any room.

Daily inspiration- the workspace:

Green Peace

What makes me warm, tingly and giddy with delight? Great design. Beautiful living spaces, intense green spaces and mossy gardens that last for days. With spring on the loom, my gorgeous daffodils and hyacinths are holding their beautiful bold heads up in spite of the morning frost, and what a treat. I love them more each year, I think.

Since green is my very favorite color, inspiration like this makes me want to paint all the walls, all the doors and breathe deeply....

(shown: Chloe Sevigny home, Miles Redd home (House Beautiful), Steven Gambrel house in Long Island, Leger Wanaselja Architecture, Pascal/Richie house (Dwell))

Wonder Wayne

Wayne is my homeboy.

That’s right, Dr. Dyer, your worlds have been beating in my brain this week, and I am pretty pumped about it. It’s SO exciting to be seeing my own true Power of Intention come alive in my life! (hurky!)

Now, it’s true… for 13 er so months, I’ve been caught somewhere in the balance of new-age thinking. But my friend and co-worker, upon hearing me mention my own law of attraction leading to some sort of undesirable outcome, arrived at work the following morning with a fist full of discs- 7 to be exact, labeling for me Dr. Wayne Dyer’s secrets. “You need this,” she said poking my shoulder with her finger.

His messages rang true for me almost instantaneously, like an old book I forgot I read. I remembered his teachings somehow, but the familiarity didn’t reveal to me a way to come to terms with my own deep peace in an hour long CD so I began to change my nightly prayer. I pray that I might be an instrument of peace… you know, Saint Francis style. I thought…if I can be peaceful toward others (especially the ones I want to stab), the peace will come to me.

Live in the moment, and the stress of what’s past or the fear of what’s to come fades away. Freeing right? Easier said than done.

But this week, something cliqued, and it all went viral. Not only did I have the opportunity to share Dr Dyer with some good friends who needed it, his teachings came to me in a moment when I had the opportunity to give crucial advice, loving praise for a piece of new music, and detailed attention to strained relationship.

I am seeing DAILY events come to fruition by virtue of my thoughts alone. Will, too, has experienced doors flung open before him that he didn’t realize were closed or even locked to unveil a sequence of perfect events leading him to his ultimate goal. Too cool.

To check out “my homie, Wayne” click here and try not to hurl at the cheesy book covers. The stuff on the inside really is super. I will also send these 7 CDs to you too wherever you are! Let me know who you are, and consider it done. J

Yes, Yep, You got it, Sure, Okay, I'm in.

I caught the Jim Carey movie 'Yes Man' last weekend (such funny stuff), and while it's obviously setup in an extreme way to make its point, it's makin’ me think….

What if we really did say YES to every opportunity that knocked, every stranger who asked us for a favor, every new friend who extended an invitation, every piece of junk mail…? What would that look like?

Last night, I had dinner with some of my best girlfriends, one of whom is in a new city making new friends, and enjoyed listening to her talk about the power of Yes in her life these days. “Want to come to church with me?” Yes. “Want to join a book club?” Yes. “Want to trade ideas on graphic design?” Yes. Three “Yes’s,” to one new person, she says, and you’re on their radar.

Now, I live in the same ol’ city where I was born and raised. I know dozens, maybe hundreds, of folks and have lots of friends, a husband, a doggie and a busy career. Even with different circumstances, opening myself up to saying YES to a few new challenges (or old ones tossed by the wayside) every week might just totally change my life.

Join the neighborhood association? Yes. Become involved with my favorite Design Blogs? Yes. Order Fiat-Luxe soap from Daily Candy? Yes. Support a local Artisan? Yes. Volunteer for course directions at a race benefitting Riley? Yes. Brunch on Sunday with someone I’d love to get to know better? Yes.

Try it with me, won't you?

*Photo above is 'Yes' by Natalie Dee

"Oh yes it's Ladies Night..."

..and the feelin's right. I bet Kool & The Gang never guessed that I'd be humming this tune every Friday evening while Will is out on the windy, winter road for the spring season, but it's true....

Friday nights are Ladies Night for Grace-the-dog and I. We walk, we file our nails, we watch Animal Planet, eat peanut butter by the spoonful, and lounge about in our matching Snuggies. (See last week's Ladies Night grilled cheese) It sounds so silly, but it's seriously awesome.

Something about quality time with a sweet, warm, furry pup melts away all the stress of the week, and Grace has a VERY stressful week. ;)

Happy New Year

The crazy overwhelming feeling of coming back to your long forgotten blog after it's been... well... forgotten is so intimidating. I feel like I should be making excuses. Like Will and I went on sabbatical. We spent the past 6 weeks rowing a tiny wooden boat across the dead sea...wwiiith a leak in it...and the boat sank. Sooo we swam, and then we wanted to come home but had to learn the language on the island first, and there were lemurs, and coconut sized mosquitos, and no electricity and....

The truth is, that's not the truth.

To borrow a line from one of my favorite blogs, dooce, "...the holidays seemed to have picked me up by my feet, swung me around its head, and flung me into a dumpster. The one behind Sizzler."

Super glad to be outta there (the dumpster), and back to navigating our figurative little wooden boat into a brand new year. So many exciting things are happening in our lives, and for the first time in a long time, I feel certain that I'm right where I need to be. Every day making progress on my ever-lengthening, ever-ascending path.

And the cardio feels good.

Getting Old

(Disclaimer: Apologies for lack of blogging recently. It's not that we are too busy, it's that we just aren't happy with our creative expressions :-)... 2010 promises to be a fun year with new ideas, new posts and possibly even a new blog for the sports animal in me [Will])

On to the topic at hand: Getting Old. No, this isn't one of of those posts where I complain about being older. Outside of the pain in my back (seriously, that has to stop), aging has been a wonderful experience. Granted, we're only 28 (maybe the back pain gets worse!!!), but the end of 2009 has really led me to reflect on a past decade more than I ever have. Age has given me the gift of reflection, patience and (thankfully) gratefulness. Life was a half empty cup for me up until an unknown period of time when I suddenly realized that the same cup was half full.

Back to the decades thing. I am wrapping up (almost) my third decade here. New Years Eve 1990 was nothing to me. Y2K? I remember where I was and what I was doing, but at 18-years-old, I didn't reflect on the 90's and grasp the immense changes in life.

So, here we are. On the doorstep of 2010. I think about my mindset and life in general since cheering on the ball in the wee hours of 1999 and hoping the computers wouldn't melt and eat me when the clock struck 2000 (remember that fear? It made conficker worms seem like chia pets)

In the past decade, I have been with my girlfriend/fiancee/wife for every moment. Okay, not every moment, but our lives are shared in all of it. It still feels like we are dating in moments. Not in a bad way, but in a "is this for real" type of way. I am still learning about her and interested in getting more connected.

In the past decade, I graduated from college, got my first apartment, bought my first house, got married, got a dog and climbed Mt. Everest. (All but one of those is true, but all seem as magnificent)

In the past decade, I have had three full-time employers. (Mandy is winning with 4 in that span!)

In the past decade, I have become aware of my place in the world and how my own values shape my beliefs. Yeah, I know, heavy stuff. But think about it. In 2000, I could vote, but I didn't know for who and why. Now, I know what I believe in and I am comfortable in my ability to rationally understand the news and how it affects me. I think, in many ways, September 11th shaped that for most in my generation. We instantly grew up and understood that there was a big, harsh world out there we live in.

Most importantly, the past decade all is "important" in my memory. Friends became true friends. Experiences all had lessons. And the fun was REALLY fun. The recent reflections by most media outlets on this topic really got me thinking about this whole arrangement and I am excited to move forward. I never felt like I was striving for acceptance or "my place" in life, but now I feel like my speck in the universe has a history, and that is really cool.

So, see you later 2000's! Let's build a big spread, make some festive drinks and celebrate the dawn of a new tomorrow. Happy New Year from the Haskett family, and here's hoping your next decade is the best one yet!

Thoughts for a Wednesday

Oh hey there, Blog! Will and I are in the process of re-thinking this whole blog thingy, and we've got some fresh ideas. So stay tuned- we're gonna shake it up a little. In the meantime, I stumbled on this through another blog and thought it was a nice reminder of the way I'd like to live my life. Some are more true than others. Today... really thinking about #18, #13, #21, #26 and #28 multiple times everyday.

50 Life Lessons

1. Life isn’t fair, but it’s still good.

2. When in doubt, just take the next small step.

3. Life is too short to waste time hating anyone.

4. Don’t take yourself so seriously. No one else does.

5. Pay off your credit cards every month.

6. You don’t have to win every argument. Agree to disagree.

7. Cry with someone. It’s more healing than crying alone.

8. It’s OK to get angry with God. He can take it.

9. Save for retirement starting with your first paycheck.

10. When it comes to chocolate, resistance is futile.

11. Make peace with your past so it won’t screw up the present.

12. It’s OK to let your children see you cry.

13. Don’t compare your life to others’. You have no idea what their journey is all about.

14. If a relationship has to be a secret, you shouldn’t be in it.

15. Everything can change in the blink of an eye. But don’t worry; God never blinks.

16. Life is too short for long pity parties. Get busy living, or get busy dying.

17. You can get through anything if you stay put in today.

18. A writer writes. If you want to be a writer, write.

19. It’s never too late to have a happy childhood. But the second one is up to you and no one else.

20. When it comes to going after what you love in life, don’t take no for an answer.

21. Burn the candles, use the nice sheets, wear the fancy lingerie. Don’t save it for a special occasion. Today is special.

22. Overprepare, then go with the flow.

23. Be eccentric now. Don’t wait for old age to wear purple.

24. The most important sex organ is the brain.

25. No one is in charge of your happiness except you.

26. Frame every so-called disaster with these words: “In five years, will this matter?”

27. Always choose life.

28. Forgive everyone everything.

29. What other people think of you is none of your business.

30. Time heals almost everything. Give time time.

31. However good or bad a situation is, it will change.

32. Your job won’t take care of you when you are sick. Your friends will. Stay in touch.

33. Believe in miracles.

34. God loves you because of who God is, not because of anything you did or didn’t do.

35. Whatever doesn’t kill you really does make you stronger.

36. Growing old beats the alternative – dying young.

37. Your children get only one childhood. Make it memorable.

38. Read the Psalms. They cover every human emotion.

39. Get outside every day. Miracles are waiting everywhere.

40. If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else’s, we’d grab ours back.

41. Don’t audit life. Show up and make the most of it now.

42. Get rid of anything that isn’t useful, beautiful or joyful.

43. All that truly matters in the end is that you're loved.

44. Envy is a waste of time. You already have all you need.

45. The best is yet to come.

46. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up.

47. Take a deep breath. It calms the mind.

48. If you don’t ask, you don’t get.

49. Yield.

50. Life isn’t tied with a bow, but it’s still a gift.

The newest addition to the family

No, Mandy is not pregnant, and I should have titled this blog entry as the temporary addition to our family. This past Monday, I was participating (for the final time this year) in my church golf league at Sahm Golf Course on the city's NE side. When I got there, I noticed this little guy walking around the outside of the pro shop and welcoming golfers on the putting green:

He was a really friendly little guy, and unfortunately the person working behind the counter really didn't have much of a plan for how to deal with a stray (unmarked) dog that randomly showed up on the golf course. Being the tree-hugging, animal protecting, improving human being that I think I am, I immediately thought of a rescue. The little fella was still loitering on the property when my match ended, and followed happily to my car where he hopped in the back seat like a seasoned pro.

After a good scrub at home, he quickly welcomed himself into our home and showed off his adorable little charm. He couldn't be any cuter.

Mandy and her mom papered the neighborhood around Sahm with 'FOUND' posters and we set up every conceivable website bulletin we could find.

Meanwhile, 'Buddy' (as he has been named by us; okay, me) has really been the best houseguest with four legs we could have asked for. He walks with us, sleeps peacefully is Grace's puppy crate and has a healthy appetite for food, napping and tummy rubs.

As for the big member of our family, Grace took a day to get used to him, but she is still trying to bring the inner Golden Retriever out of him and hopes for a game of tug or a chase around the dining room table at any point.

Mandy and I have toyed with the idea of a 2nd dog for a while now. Grace could use a buddy, pardon the pun. But Buddy really isn't the answer. He is not the aggressive, playful type, and we believe he is a little older than Grace. We will eventually get another puppy, and our experience with Buddy has reminded us about what struggles we faced with a new dog, and shown us what the daily routine (walks, bathroom breaks, feeding) would be nice with another animal. But, in the end, it has been magical to watch these two coexist, and eventually share...



Don't worry, there is a happy ending. Here we are, 72 hours after Buddy hopped into my car and we haven't heard anything from the owners. Unfortunately, I expected this, and fear that Buddy may have been the victim of a family that could not afford to take care of him anymore. Thankfully, the outpouring of support from friends and acquiantences has been amazing, and I think Buddy will be heading to his new (permanent) home tomorrow with a co-worker of mine, who along with her husband were recently talking about getting a dog... a beagle at that.

So, tonight (as Mandy flys off to San Francisco to visit her sister) will be the last night for Buddy in the Haskett household. He's been a great guest and I feel honored to have given him another chance at a loving and safe life.

Selective Memory

Now that tweeting has become the norm and your life's thoughts are captured in 140 characters or less (we are trying to have joint twitter feeds down the right-hand column and failing), what has happened to the lengthy narrative of our lives? The blog has already been rendered out-of-touch, likely because it is too thorough, too all-encompassing and (gasp) too much work.

We said we would welcome an August vacation and we did just that. The marriage of dear friends followed by the annual affair with Watervale. Now that we've reflected and recharged, it's time to greet autumn with a vengeance.

And while Mandy's post about tracking the past 10 years of her life (below) was only a month ago, today marks the opportunity to stretch another year, to mark the celebration of 11 years together. Yes, September 11th. 9/11. Of the 365 days we could've chosen to embark on our own adventure, we choose (unbeknownst at the time, of course) the darkest date of American history in the 21st century. And while 9/11/01 is painfully etched in our memories, the Haskett household quietly celebrates the better year for this date: 9/11/98

There is nothing romantic about the start of our relationship. It was 6 days after a forgettable (100% my fault) kiss, I was grounded, we were on the phone and we were questioning what had become of our suddenly complicated friendship. We were inseperable without being an item. Best friends ignoring any attraction. And then we realilzed that we loved each other. I really don't remember much about the phone call (remember, I was grounded), but when it was over with, I had a girlfriend, a steady, a 'going out' partner, a lover and the best person I could ever want to spend time with.

Sure, there have been our share of rough patches over the past 11 years, and we haven't been "together" for 4,017 consecutive days, but that doesn't change the fact that we made a decision on this night 11 years ago that altered my life forever and will always be the best decision I ever made. We were 17-years-old, ignorant little high school children. But somehow we knew something was special, and we've grown every minute with the other along for the ride.

It's only fitting that we are celebrating our 10-year high school reunion this weekend, merging the past with the present for a few hours to relive what was. And when it is all over, I still will be able to take the best thing from high school home with me.

Ten years come and gone so fast, I might as well have been dreamin'

I have never been any good at answering the 'Where do you see yourself in 10 years' question.

In fact, as I write this, I draw an honest blank at the prospect of my future 10 years down the line. This isn't to say that I don't have goals for myself, aspirations, a stack of journals that are a written testament to the type of woman I'd like to be today and throughout my life.... But as a smart young woman with lots of prospects on the horizon, I can't seem to draw upon a visual of myself at 38. Just typing the number seems strange. So it got me thinking....

I am all for planning...I have a retirement plan (or at least my bank accounts thinks I do), I have a plan for a baby, a plan for puppy #2, a plan for my (nonexistent) children to one day attend college, a plan for the presentation Monday morning, and we're planning our trip to Watervale in two weeks. These ideas are not lost on me. But if life really is what happens when we're making plans (as John Lennon put it), are we really just tricking ourselves into a false sense of control by making plans for time that's not truly our own?

There's got to be some balance here.

As I reflect on the past 10 years, for example, I recall the young woman I was at 18. Just entering college with a shaky sense of independence, rudimentary interests and a fresh (albeit slightly naive) perspective on the world. In a way, not much has changed. I'm still hopeful. I still believe that people are inherently good. I believe in peace. At 18, however, I couldn't have predicted this moment.

Still so many people ask this question, and assuredly find merit in knowing my plans for the next decade of my life. Most recently, I have felt real pressure to create a true visualization of that time, to write down my goals for the next 10 years and make sure I've accomplished them to live up to my answer.

I can't help but wonder...how much planning is too much? Am I doing enough of it? And how will I know?

The recent 2-3 years of my life have been far and away the most eye-opening. I feel like I have learned an incredible amount (mostly about me) and grown up. These days are some of the most precious. And I am positive that I couldn't have made it here on my own accord or with my silly little list of plans. But I see God working in my life daily, and I surrender my plans to Him. Ten years time is a great gift; one I don't take lightly, and to plan it away would fly in the face of all I know to be true.

Here's what I will plan for: to be faithful above all else. I plan to work hard. I plan to be good to people and to animals and to our earth, and I plan to live as simply as I am able, knowing that I am already rich beyond measure for having been given this time at all. By the Grace of God go we.

This is a heavy perspective to keep on this rocky world, but one I'm going to try.... As I write this, Paul Simon's "Ten Years" lyrics ring in my ears. Have a listen and think about your past/next decade, and your plans if you like.... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OEDc9cUKpo4

There's no place like home...

Hello, summer. Good to see you.

Ah July, and the Watervale Road has infiltrated my mind, spilling its delicious blues and greens into my dreams. Each day I awake hoping to find a bar of handmade soap on my vanity and blueberry buckle at my snap-dragon adorned breakfast table.... Nuts. It's still not time for vacation (our New Year.)

Let's reflect, then, on the year we've been given. All of us.

And while you're reflecting, however you may do so, peruse a few shots of our beloved old home. Here are a few of the inside. The garden is yet to come (two new zucchini today!)

Summer Rhythm

Summer is, obviously, the season that seems to go by the quickest, but Mandy, Grace and I are enjoying the middle of it right now about as well as you could. The yard is still green (thank you mild, wet weather) and the vegetables are taking off. Our first tomato will be ready for picking any day now with about a dozen more on the vine waiting their turn. We have the world's biggest zucchini plant with no zucchini. Same can be said for the watermelon, which has a vine that grows 3 inches a day in 4 different directions. And the little critters are devouring our first strawberries. While I don't enjoy digging in the dirt like the two ladies of the house, I certainly am fascinated by the daily watch of developing edibles.

I will go more than a month without travelling for any type of work, which is a first. My last trip was so enjoyable, I took some time off! Ah, Buffalo dorm life...

(Yep, that was my abode for a whole week with 3 roommates. I don't feel old, but I can not remember when I enjoyed sleeping in a place like that)

We finally got back to the little lake this summer (thank you, Laurent family!) and got a little R&R in the sun. More importantly, it gave us the opportunity to let the little fuzz practice her doggy-paddle stroke...

All in all, we've really had a chance to relax, which is great. Mandy continues to update the house as she channels the interior designer within. Friends are getting married, friends are having babies and we continue to realize that every day is an amazing gift. Grateful isn't a strong enough word for the life I have and the opportunities provided. The more people who can share that attitude, the better the country, in my opinion.

So, enjoy your summer, wherever you may be!

Broken, old, mossy stuff? Be still my heart.

I am an old soul. I love creepy old things—crooked old houses, creaky floorboards, old doors and closets, historic hotels, abandoned buildings, shacks on the side of the highway…anything with a past and a couple cobwebs. I am so fascinated with days gone by that I can’t help but daydream about the lives old objects led as they pass under my glance. The hands that must have held that bowl, the sink it was soaped up in, how it was used…. the picture unfurls in my mind.

When Will and I began shopping for our first home, I knew I wanted it to have some history. I dragged him through multiple dilapidated homes, all of which would have cost us a fortune in heat and repair, but swooned over the details: limestone fireplace crest, chipped French doors, stained glass basement door, and moss covered patios. A great sport, my husband is. After numerous “hard-hat tours” of potential homes, we fell in love with an oldie in SoBro that lets us live comfortably and without many dips into the “cookie jar.”

Still, I toddle on real estate sites scanning the homes for sale in historic parts of town, rummaging the Indiana Historical Society, and unraveling the history of our abode. Each year, one of the oldest neighborhoods in Indy, Woodruff Place, has a HUGE flea market, which lasts all weekend. We headed there for the festivities this month, and I snagged 5 pink crystal champagne glasses for $5, while Will picked up some good books and BU apparel. (That's my reflection in the picture above)

Check out the haunts I love so well.