Humble Yet Self-Confident

Humility is what happens after looking at a picture of yourself from when you were twelve.
Self-confidence is having the stupidity courage to post it on your blog for a good laugh.

I'm happy to report I possess an equal measure of both. 
If you're eating, put down your sandwich as this may startle you a bit....

Proof that I have always been a beauty queen. You're welcome.

All I have to say is that I'm glad Facebook did not exist when I was twelve.

By the way, that adorable baby is my cousin Amy who is now the same age I was in that photo. Fortunately for her, she still looks as cute as she did then, although she has long since ditched the green goggles.

Two Hearts Under A Burlap Banner

 Bradly + Eva = Saturday, July 7, 2012

My sister and the love of her life tied the knot on a bright July morning in Spicewood, Texas in a grove of twisting madrone trees.  The sun was high and hot and the air was already swimming with humidity.  Bright sunshine glinted off the lake behind them as they took each other’s hands and promised their whole hearts for their whole lives.   Overhead, a jaunty burlap banner that spelled ‘Forever’ in red fluttered in the breeze.  The two families were clustered around them, some standing, others sitting on wooden benches and chairs. There were just twenty of us and we sang ‘O Teach Me How to Love’, our voices and faces mixed with tears.

I stood next to my brothers and we cried as we watched our sister step into a new chapter. We were happy and sad and overwhelmed at the change before us. Happy to see her smiling her heart out, sad that it would never quite be the same again and overwhelmed (in a good way) that our family circle just opened up and a whole new collection of sisters, brothers, cousins, aunts, and uncles piled in. I was even a little bit scared, because she was crossing a line that couldn’t be uncrossed, entering in to an experience all by herself.  She’s my oldest and best friend; as different from me as the night from day but part of the gravitational force that keeps me tethered.  She will always be my younger sister but it feels as though she passed me that day, suddenly more grown-up with a new last name and a new role to play.

As the heat increased, we were driven indoors to sit at a long wooden table and eat lunch together under the ceiling fans running on high.  We laughed and talked and it struck me how seamlessly the day was progressing. I was glad that our two families got on so well but I realized it’s because we share the thing that’s most important.  I look forward to spending more time getting to know them in the future.

And then as quickly as the day began, it was over.  In flurry of well wishes and car doors, the bride and groom were off to their Jamaican honeymoon. We washed the dishes and took down the decorations and ate the leftover cupcakes. When the work was done, we sat on the cliff overlooking the lake and watched the evening sun dissolve into the horizon.  It was perfect and beautiful and I feel so lucky to have been a part of it all.

I love you, dear Eva and I'm so excited and happy for you.

For those of you who haven't already seen all my photos, they are posted here .  They are my own snapshots from the day.  The first and last photos in this post are two of the professional shots that I snagged from the photographer's website; the rest are currently only available to people who are Facebook friends with my sister.

Food For Thought

"You can be the ripest, juiciest peach in the world, and there’s still going to be somebody who hates peaches."- Dita Von Teese

image via Modern Hepburn

Stuff Love: One Kings Lane

I don't know why I ever signed up for emails from One Kings Lane, but it needs to stop.

I don't have house. I don't even have an apartment. 

Never mind that, I don't have thousands of dollars lying around to be spent on nothing but home goods.

What I have is basically a guest room in my parents' house and a pocket full of lint.

But that doesn't stop me from drooling over this white settee that would look perfect in my imaginary entryway.

Or this early 1900s Chinese console that would be perfect as a sideboard in my pretend dining room.

Or this hand-screened wallpaper that would look amazing on an accent wall in my fake living room.

Ugh. I hate you Internet, and your pretty pictures of stuff that I can't have and don't need anyway.

all images via One Kings Lane

Ebb and Flow

The hardest thing I think I've learned about grief is that it's not a straight line.
It falls back and springs forward with no regard to the passing of time.

It's completely without form or reason.

Sometimes it's a soft breeze that blows when I come across an old photo. And sometimes it's a gale force wind that takes me by surprise, when I'm lying in bed at night and out of nowhere I remember my last phone conversation with her.  Crystal clear is her gravelly chuckle and the exhaustion in her voice. And suddenly I can't breathe for the pain that's in my throat.

I have to lie perfectly still and wait for the ebb.

I miss you so desperately today, Grammie.
I'm terrified I'm going to forget what it felt like to hug you, or the smell of your perfume.

I just wish the strength of memory outweighed the strength of grief.