Archive for the ‘In Photos’ Category
Maybe I’ll clean the windows in the Spring.
Darlin’ don’t leave me out here in the cold
I’m begging you baby don’t leave me out here on my own
If you don’t hold me tight
I couldn’t make it outside
If I tried,
So please let me in lover,
Darlin’ don’t desert me in here it’s so dark
Don’t leave me here darlin’ don’t you know I can’t stand to part
Oh but I’ll stay,
If you promise to keep me safe,
I can’t make it alone,
Oh my angel just don’t go away
Please, don’t leave me out here in the cold
No, no please don’t leave me out here on my own
My sweet neighbor’s house.
Happy Hour at The Supper Club (the bar… so cozy!)
This guy… is really sweet! I came home from a trip to Goodwill this afternoon… parcels in hand and he says, “Hey, let’s go out for happy hour.” The upside of having a kid at college is dawning on me.
You really don’t have to ask me twice…
I still haven’t figured out how to take a selfie with this iPad. Where the heck is the camera lens? Why is this so hard? Why is my eye listing? Look at the blouse, look at the blouse.
Any reason to get dressed up, am I right? Or at least wear something pretty. Rumor has it we’re supposed to hit a balmy 80 on Wednesday and I had run to Goodwill in hopes of finding some shorts.
So, of course I came home with a silk blouse. (Hey, you would too. It’s brand new and $7. You really can’t look at the shorts rack and not peruse the rest of the store. ) I also scored a bag of vintage and 2 pairs of shorts = a pretty decent Goodwill run.
But his invitation completely validated my splurge purchase. It’s like the universe said, “Here, buy this… trust me, you’re going to need it soon.”
I popped off the tags on my new blouse and hit the lip gloss hard. Ready.
This is the upside of sitting in a dark dreamy bar. The lighting works in your favor. That’s totally my “romance tip” for the week. Probably not the best photography tip, though.
This is such a non-post. There really aren’t any other photos. I didn’t want to spend our date staring at a screen when this adorable guy was across the table from me. But if you get a chance to come to Astoria, we highly recommend T. Paul’s Supper Club. Their bar is so cozy and romantic. The staff is amazing. And you can’t go wrong with anything off of their menu!
The Goodwill, on the other hand, is top secret.
I have 5 of these boxes. They’ve been stacked up, tucked into the corner of a closet since I packed away my academic past 8 years ago.
It’s time to sort through them and decide what stays. The temptation to not even sort, but to load them into the car en masse and take them directly to Goodwill is overwhelming.
It’s not because I don’t want to look at it. I’ve reconciled my feelings about my past academic career. I guess you could say that my priorities have shifted. I’m less interested in theory these days and much more interested in practice.
I could read a book. Again. Yet another tome on whatever it is I’m working on (parenting, marriage, ministry…) Or I can get down to the business of doing it. It’s inside thinking vs outside thinking. And while I can’t tell you the specifics about the next chapter of my life, because I’m still figuring that out–I’m pretty sure I know what it doesn’t entail: hoarding books in boxes.
So, I will sort, if a bit begrudgingly. With a new rubric for what makes the cut and a willingness to be guided by something more than what you can find in a book.
Photo now… words later.
Friday 28 February 2014: An Update
So, I’ve had this post open all week on my laptop. And I’ve meant to update it. It’s just been one of those weeks. It’s 8 pm on Friday night, I’m finally off of work for the week — though I have a ton of church stuff to do tomorrow. But it’s time for wine and a piece of my birthday cake (See’s candy IZ buys me each year!) — so why not a bit of review too?
Monday was my birthday and I actually took the entire day off. Scripts arrived for March’s 4th Sunday service: I spent all of 2 minutes looking at them and then put them DOWN.
Folks, that’s amazing for me. Typically, I can’t help myself. I just launch in, and 4 hours later I look up and realize I worked on my day off.
IZ took me out to coffee… twice. Including a nice drive to Cannon Beach to our favorite coffee place and absolutely NO work talk. Instead, I talked about my budgies and my unearthly love of those birds. New Bird was a birthday gift last year, so he’s 1 year old! And of course that warranted a conversation. IZ has started calling me the “crazy bird lady”. Um, kinda.
I baked pizza, hung out with my men, did NOTHING all day. I think there was a trip to Goodwill. It was a lovely way to decompress–especially since the day before was a 4th Sunday service — and those are so much work.
But, taking Monday off means RUNNING all week. And that’s what I’ve done. I don’t think I’ve posted anything anywhere in days. No tweeting, no Facebook status reports, I don’t even think I’ve looked at this blog or Mireio.
Somehow, during this week I did manage to make this little toddler skirt for Barbara Kellie.
It’s made from a shirt I found at Goodwill on Monday: challis. OMG I hate sewing with challis. Never doing that again. I pulled so many stitches I could have made this over twice. But I think it turned out OK. I made it so the black skirt functions as a petticoat for the pink skirt. Remarkably, that worked.
Which means I won’t be able to recreate it. One offs are good, right?
And then there is this:
That would be Sophie, sunbathing beneath the line of an air-compressor. After two point something years of living in a disaster area: the house is finished. And by “finished” I mean, I now have no excuse to not paint. All the doorways are framed. Everything that should have been trimmed, caulked, or finished … is. Can I get a Hallelujah? Of course, having a construction person in the house all week was not without a moment of tears.
The entire process puts me back to the hell-hole that was fall of 2011. It’s a mild form of PTSD: (not to make light of that for folks who suffer!) I’m completely skeptical of anyone who dons a tool belt for a living. And somewhere along the line “make it work” started meaning “let’s half-ass” this. Folks, I’m spinning too many plates. Lots of them drop, but not because I’m half-assing anything. But because I’m giving my all to other plates. It makes me nutty.
But it’s done. I should focus on that.
Someone needs to paint this house now. I’m going to drink another glass of wine and consider telling you about my theme for the year.
Or just drink another glass of wine. See you… soon? (Oh, and I’m 44. That number is MAGIC. The fact my house is done… PROOF.)