He Gets It

Here's the thing. Today was a totally fine, normal day. No crises. No deadlines. Definitely plenty to do, but nothing extraordinarly pressing or stressful or difficult.

But emotionally, it was just one of those days. One of those days you can't explain to someone, because really, nothing's wrong. But you just want to go home and take your pants off and crawl into bed and maybe watch a sad movie or Grey's Anatomy and be alone. Just because. Not because anything's really wrong.

I was on the phone today with Nate, telling him about my totally fine, normal day, but then admitted, "I just feel so sad right now, and I don't know why. Like, I just feel like crying."

And all he said was, "I understand."

He didn't try to fix anything. He didn't try to psychoanalyze me. He didn't tell me I was a crazy hyper-emotional girl (which maybe I am, so that would've been fine, but yeah.). He didn't ask for me to explain the unexplainable. He just...got it.

That was the best response I could have hoped for. I felt better after that.

I like him a lot, you guys.

Painted Lady

Today I got a spray tan. I know...who am I?

Let me explain: My pasty German-Irish skin cooks in the sun like bacon fat in a frying pan. Because of this, I eschew sunlight like a Twilight vampire and have the pallor of a corpse.

I'll also be a bridesmaid for the first time on Friday--which means a LOT of photos. Blonde hair...black dress...and the complexion of a ghost? I don't think so. And since I'm psychologically incapable of being okay with exposing my skin to UV rays in a coffin-shaped tanning bed, a spray tan was really my only option.

The "tanning" process was a bit intimidating. I went to the salon where I get my hair done and was led to the secret back room (!!!) with the hidden shower. I'm not going to lie...it was dark and weird in the small room, which didn't create a super ambiance for the twenty-minute process of being sprayed down with COLD, wet, smelly bronzer.

But...creepy shower and awkward process aside, it's worth it. You probably won't even be able to notice that I got a spray tan. I don't resemble any electric orange people from the Jersey Shore or anything. I just look...normal. Healthy. Nice.

So bring on the wedding photographers. I'm ready for my close-up!

What Dreams May Come...

I found this bedding at Anthropologie. It's printed with collages of handwritten love notes and letters dating back to the early 1900’s that were found in a hatbox in a vintage shop in Brooklyn.

You know how much I love handwritten notes and correspondence...right? How much paper and any form of the written word romances my soul? Like, we've been over this? You know how much I love sloppy scripts and precise penmanship? Smeared ink and crossed out spelling errors and postage stamps?

Okay. Good. So now that that's established, would you please buy this bedding for me?

I sure would enjoy resting my dreams on a slew of love letters every night...

Happy Feet

I so wish I could be one of those girls who could prance effortlessly around all day in five-inch heels. I love heels. Well, I love the look of them, anyway. They obviously create the illusion of height and slenderness, but they also effect gait, posture, and even demeanor. You can’t feel ho-hum in heels.

However, I am not biologically capable to Sarah Jessica Parker around. Not even for short distances, like from my car to the office. First of all, I’ve lived with chronic back pain for over a decade, and stilettos have adverse effects on the spine. Second, I have a hard enough time not stumbling or running into things with both feet firmly on terra firma (the firma, the betta! Ha…Latin joke!). And, third, let’s be honest…I’m just not cool enough to wear heels except on New Year’s Eve and at weddings.

The great news is that flats are so stinkin cute these days. You can get them in whatever colors, textures, bells, and whistles you want. Today, I bought these from Nordstrom (half yearly sale…what?!). I want to lick these sparkly shoes...they glisten like the glaze on a Krispy Kreme! I’m still flat-footed, ungraceful as ever, and barely 5’4”, but my toes are twinkling, and so is my smile.

Oh, Arnie Boy...

When I was a kid, I collected cow stuff. Cow calendars, cow stuffed animals, cow print stuff, you get the picture. One of my favorite things was my cow alarm clock. I saw it at JCPenney, and it was $49.99, which is a ridiculous price for an alarm clock in general, but if you’re ten, is really a lot! Saving up for that clock meant eschewing purchasing all those awesome Lisa Frank stickers, glitter erasers, and Sanrio pencil cases that I was so fond of. But I was determined to save my allowance, and in a couple of short months, bought the clock.

I named him Arnold, because he sounded exactly like Arnold Schwarzenegger. The alarm was a cow bell (it actually scared me awake for years) followed by a moo and then “Wake up! Don’t sleep your life away!” Picture Governor Schwarzenegger saying that to you. That’s what my clock sounded like.

Anyway, Arnold was a good and faithful servant up until only a few months ago, when a corroded battery (Kirkland brand, if you were wondering) cut his charmed life short. And until yesterday, Arnold sat mutely on my nightstand, gathering dust, but still watching over me every night. I couldn’t just throw him away. He’s not an old, broken clock. He’s more like a vintage cow figurine now.

By the way, that kind of reasoning is why I’m a cat carcass and a few Hummels shy of being featured on Hoarders. I knew I had to let Arnold go. So I asked my dad to take care of it. That conversation went something like this:

“Lisa, just throw it away.”

“DAD…I can’t. I mean, haven’t you seen the Toy Story movies? I can’t just throw him away! This is his home.”

“Lis, he’s the one who gave up on you. It’s not like you asked much of him…just to tell the time once or twice a day. It’s time to say ‘hasta la vista’ to Arnold.”

So…I did.

Poor Arnold.

Wedding Notes

Brace yourself: When you hit your 20's, you go to a lot of weddings!

I love weddings! I love trying to catch the bouquet and eating delicious wedding cake! I love the sweet toasts and how radiant the brides always look. I love smelling the flowers and always tear up a little during the father-daughter dance. I love seeing my guy friends in suits--they look so dashing. I love the Frank Sinatra and Michael Buble songs. Weddings rock!

I've never given a ton of thought into planning my wedding. Many of my girlfriends have had their color schemes picked out since they were five, known what kind of flowers they want, subscribe to bridal magazines, and have already narrowed down venues in their heads. Not me.

I want a simple wedding. I'm not entirely sure what that means because weddings are significant events and require a lot of planning, but I know I will not ever care about what font the name cards are typed in (I mean, unless it's Papyrus) or to which degree of transparency that little sheet needs to be that goes over the invitations. Now that I think about it, why is that even there, anyway?

There are two things I think would be cool, though. The first is that I'd love for the song Yellow by Coldplay to somehow be incorporated into the night. Coldplay is one of my favorite bands and Yellow was the first song of theirs that I heard. The lyrics make my heart ache and always remind me of how loved I am by Jesus (...for you I'd bleed myself dry...). Maybe I'll walk down the aisle to it someday. Who knows?

The other thing I thought would be really cool is centerpieces of stacks of books. I went to a wedding earlier this year, and these were at all the dinner tables. If my future husband is on board, we'll copy this idea.

Oh, and I really don't want to dance at my wedding (or, ever), but I'll just have to get over it, I suppose.

That is all...

Sans Tans

Will anyone join me in embracing aristocratic pallor this summer, and perhaps bringing back parasols? Come on...it's a viable trend! Plus, we'll have the last laugh in about fifty years, and without laugh lines and leathery cancer skin, too!

To all you perfectly sun-kissed beachgoers, smugly glistening in the summer sunshine while I drench my pasty Irish-German skin with gobs of sunscreen...good riddance!

Disney Dreams...

I remember watching Disney's original Parent Trap from 1961 over and over again when I was a kid and loving everything about it. The twins, Susan and Sharon, were so sophisticated and grown-up for teenagers. I didn't know anyone like them in real life, and they fascinated me. The only thing I had in common with them was that I rocked a bowl haircut, too--but that's enough to bind kindred spirits. This movie made me desperately want to find my long-lost twin, wear white gloves, go to summer camp, and have a matching luggage set. And those British accents...I wanted one of those, too. (How did an elegant New Yorker and a cool California girl have British accents?)

One of my favorite lines in the movie was during the dance at their summer camp, when one of the girls complained about the camp's restrictions on make-up to a boy. She said, “I feel absolutely naked without my lipstick.” Oh, she was so devastatingly blase...I just thought that was the coolest line ever, and I wished so much that I wore lipstick and felt incomplete without it.

I actually do own some lipsticks now, but am sadly not much of a fan. I wish I was though, just so I could say that same line once in a while, with an exquisite little bit of pretension. But let's face it...I'll never be as cool as Susan and Sharon. Only in my dreams...

Inspired Kookiness

I ran into my sweet friend JP the other day and couldn't get over how awesome her sewing machine charm necklace was. (Nice work, David.) The necklace is from the website Eclectic Eccentricity Jewellry (yep, with two L's...oh, those Brits.). I love their unique, vintagey, whimsical designs. Here are my favorites...

This necklace is called "Sew Much To Do."

"The Perfect Gentleman."A vintage key necklace. Oh man, I love vintage keys.

Nautical but nice...


Wouldn't these make nice gifts for the holidays? ;-)

It's a Funny World We Live In...

My least favorite part of my nighttime routine is washing my face. When that first splash of water shocks my face, I daily reconsider my affinity for black eye makeup, question my judgment in wearing three different mascaras every day, and rethink how necessary any of this makeup nonsense really is. That first splash of water creates in my mirror an image not too far off from resembling Heath Ledger’s Joker. And don’t even get me started on how my towel looks after I dry my face.

And then every morning I get up and the vicious cycle continues.

C'est la vie...

Two Stupid Things That Girls Do...

I read this book last month. It's a hilarious coming-of-age story set in 1970s Santa Barbara. The reason I bought it? Read Larry Doyle's quote on the cover. He knows funny. He wrote I Love You, Beth Cooper.

Anyway, this book reminded me of two stupid things that girls do...

We allow ourselves to have crushes without the expectation of reciprocity. Why do we do that to ourselves? Why don't we move on? Why don't we crush on people who actually like us back? Is that too convenient?

and...

We are baffled by moments when we don't see absolute perfection in people that we've put on pedestals.

Do guys do this, too?

It's Okay.

Who is the most beautiful person you know? What does it mean to be beautiful? Does physical appearance matter to you? To what degree? Does it matter to God?

I feel like when the topic of physical beauty comes around, some Christians want to pretend it is of no consequence. Yes, “Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7). Yes, appearance is not foundational to one’s identity. But…does that mean that physical beauty doesn’t matter?

I think it does. It matters to us and it matters to God. Look around you. Beauty surrounds you. Read Song of Songs…much of it is about physical beauty (“You are so beautiful, my beloved, so perfect in every part.” Song of Songs 3:7)! The problem is what we think ‘beauty’ is. The enemy has distorted how we think of beauty—he hates our beauty and he wants us to hate it in God, in us, and in others. Beauty isn’t measured by God the way we measure it…it’s not measured by highlights, taut skin or wrinkles, cellulite, beauty pageant tiaras, age spots, plastic surgeries, weight, name brands, gait, or height. We’ve got it so wrong. It flows from a spiritual beauty that comes from being a child of God. That makes us beautiful…physically beautiful. God has made EVERY female with a unique beauty that he wants her to reveal to the world in order to reveal himself to the world.

It’s important to feel beautiful, and we needn’t feel ashamed of that desire. It is devastating for a woman to not feel beautiful. The Eldridges write in the book Captivating, “This isn’t about dresses and makeup…don’t you recognize that a woman yearns to be seen, and to be thought of as captivating? We desire to possess a beauty that is worth pursuing, worth fighting for, a beauty that is core to who we truly are. We want beauty that can be seen; beauty that can be felt; beauty that affects others; a beauty all our own to unveil.”

God created us in his image (Genesis 1:27). God thinks we are beautiful; therefore, we are beautiful. It is blatantly clear to me that our God is a God who values Beauty—a physical beauty that flows from a beautiful heart.

Dang, girl...

My first reading endeavor of 2009 is Charlotte Brontë's Jane Eyre...and I just want to share this one sentence. I've been bringing this book with me everywhere, waiting for a two or three minute lull in my day so that I can steal a few pages of reading (oh yes, it's that good). When I read this sentence for the first time, I'm pretty sure I put the book down, paused, and sighed...

Jane, in this moment, has just realized that she loves Mr. Rochester, as she looks at him from across the room...but she doesn't think he'll ever love her back...

"...my eyes were drawn involuntarily to his face; I could not keep their lids under control; they would rise, and the irids would fix on him. I looked, and had an acute pleasure in looking--a precious, yet poignant pleasure; pure gold, with a steely point of agony; a pleasure like what the thirst-perishing man might feel who knows the well to which he has crept is poisoned, yet stoops and drinks divine draughts nevertheless."

Oh, Jane...don't confine your fate to heartbreak just yet...

Things that Make Me Feel Stupid

Not knowing how to pronounce a word that I understand and have read a hundred times but have never heard pronounced aloud.

Strategy games, like chess, most card games, and Settlers of Catan.

Almost every computer-related or car-related problem.

Trying to text message with T9. I just don't get it.

twinkle toes, bloody heels

I bought these sparkly shoes at Target last week to wear to Wicked on Friday. I thought they looked like they might come from Oz. They're velvety with pretty blue sparkles...cute, right? By the end of the night, I could barely walk. So, girls, I just wanted to warn you. They're still so cute, so I wouldn't tell you not to buy them, but be mentally prepared for the pain they will cause you...

Jaime-tenance

Harry: There are two kinds of women: high maintenance and low maintenance.

Sally: Which one am I?

Harry: You're the worst kind. You're high maintenance but you think you're low maintenance.

(From the best movie ever, When Harry Met Sally)

I'll admit it: I have been accused by several people of being high maintenance.

Why? Well, Jaime thinks I am high maintenance because it takes me an hour to get ready in the mornings. Seriously? An hour to shower, straighten my hair, dress, put on makeup, maybe get a latte, and make it to the office? Dang...I can't really condense my morning any more than that!

I would like to argue that I am not high maintenance by sharing the following facts about myself:

1. I will eat food that has fallen on a reasonably clean floor.
2. I drink Diet Coke from the can. I don't need a fancy cup of ice with it.
3. I don't need to put lip gloss on after every meal, and I don't always have a perfect pedicure.

4. I am very easily amused; tell me a couple of Laffy Taffy jokes. No pretension here.

5. There is nothing in my room that is embroidered with the word "Princess" on it.

6. My purse weighs less than five pounds.
7. I am usually punctual. High-maintenance girls do not care about others' time.

So, I have to ask the question again...what makes me high maintenance?!

XY's...skip this post...

Ladies, call off the dogs.

The hunt is over.

I've found it. Amazing mascara.


I know that when it comes to makeup, girls can be weird with being loyal to brands for years and years and never trying new stuff. The problem with that is...products improve. I have been trying different mascaras for a few years now, and this is one of my favorites...CoverGirl LashBlast mascara.

I love black eyeliner (maybe a little too much). I love fake lashes but am still mastering the application (it's an artform). But most of all...I love black mascara. I use at least two different brands every morning.

This is $7 at Target, comes in a cool fat orange tube, has a weird prickly wand, and doubles my lashes. I use it with Maybelline Discovery Lash Mascara for even more fringe benefits. Give it a shot.

You're welcome, ladies!

An Uninvited Guest

Actual conversation, said in the acidic tone of a spoiled teenager:

"WHAT are you doing?"

Silence.

"WHO do you think you are?"

Not a flinch.

"This isn't YOUR house."

Nothing.

I didn't know what to do. I was home alone, or so I thought. I couldn't even enter the bathroom that was occupied by this unwanted visitor. How was I to take a shower?

Minutes passed, but it seemed like an hour. A stare-down was all I could think to do. Productivity could not exist in this state of agitation.

Finally, my dad came home from the store. He killed the giant thing, the eight-legged horror who could not, would not, be persuaded.

Everything's fine now.

What's in a Name??

I must confess…I love thinking of baby names. NOT that I’m planning on having a child any time soon…I just love thinking of names. One of my friends thinks I should just sign my future children up for therapy right now because my taste is a little out of the ordinary. I don’t think they’re that bad, though. Here are some of my ideas:

Girls
Ireland Poe
Scout Emerson
Harper Finn
Liesel Rain
Kirsten Jo
Charlotte Grace
Lucy Belle
Lilly

Boys
Wyatt Huck
Eli Drew
Dorian Wesley
Nolan Bennet
Ronan Cody
Ian Wesley
Liam Luke

I don’t think these names are too weird, do you? To keep strangeness to a minimum, there are a few rules that I do like to follow when thinking of names:

1. Make sure names are obvious to pronounce; they should sound the way they’re spelled. Phonetic ambiguity is not good. (The only examples I could think of were people I actually know, so I will not give any, but this is self-explanatory.)

2. Do not spell names in a ridiculous manner. There is no need to complicate simply spelled names for the sake of creativity or cutesyness; find a less permanent outlet for that. Examples: Chymberlee/Kimberly, Leighsa/Lisa, Tiphanie/Tiffany, Rhyon/Ryan, Jaxon/Jackson, etc.

3. Frivolous punctuation such as hyphens and apostrophes should be avoided. Omit needlessness. Examples of how to NOT rock punctuation in names: Sha’awn, Ky’Lee, Jaz’Myne.

Name ideas that I think are cool, but need to be moderately followed:

1. Place names. Dakota, Winona, Montana, London, Phoenix, Brighton, Indiana, etc.

2. Presidential names. Madison, Reagan, Monroe, Kennedy, etc. (I think many of these work better as middle names.)

3. Names that reflect one’s heritage (only when above rules apply). I love strong German names like Kurt, Heidi, Gretel, and Han.

4. Alliterative names. Lisa Leslie, Jack Johnson, Peter Parker, Amy Adams, etc.

Once I marry and possibly become a more sensible person, my taste in names might change. Until then, it’s pretty fun thinking about them!

Five Things Every Girl Needs

A good journal. For prayers, poems, dreams, and secrets.

A passport. Because you never know when you'll need to go to Paris or Rome at a moment's notice.

One piece of special jewelry. It doesn't matter if it's a tin ring from a Cracker Jack box that your brother gave you at your first baseball game or a Tiffany necklace that your parents gave you at college graduation. What matters is that there is a special story behind it, one that is meaningful to you.

A really good hairdresser. Life is just too short not to have great hair.

Pride and Prejudice. Every girl needs to know Elizabeth Bennet.