cheers

When I was a child, my parents scarred me for life by demanding that I ask permission before doing things like going out to play or having a sleeve of cookies before dinner time.  I know.  The nerve, right?  Under my parents' tutelage, I have grown to be hard-working, diligent, and always mindful of keeping superiors {and probably everyone else} adequately informed of my whereabouts and intentions.

And so the seed of my current writer's block were sown.

The problem is that I have been sworn to secrecy.  And it could be killing me.  Okay, so maybe that was a bit dramatic.  But still.  This keep-my-mouth-shut nonsense is for the birds.  Actually, maybe not.  Birds don't do a very good job of keeping their mouths shut either.

There are so many things changing right now that it's hard to contain myself, and yet strangely not appropriate to blast them via the interwebs, especially since I consider y'all my 1st removed besties and all.

I'm hoping that at least getting this off of my chest will help with that block that happens to all of us when we desperately want to spill the beans, but know that such action could be cause for other, more severe repercussions down the road.

So.  I leave y'all with a toast, to putting a positive spin on the uncomfortable, yet inevitable changing nature of life!

Cheers,

shakin' in the rain

I fear social failure.

Not because I can't hold my own in social events, because I've been told that I can be quite charming once I get warmed up.

But because no matter how old I get or how many successful social experiences I have, walking into a room of strangers, especially women, takes me back to the awkward, overweight, out-of-her-social-league college freshman on her first attempt at sorority rush.

That's right, I said first attempt.

Because I did it twice.

As it turned out, it would take a summer of a make shift Mommy-Daughter Fat Camp and the help of some good 'ol point counting to help me wrap my chubby little arms around my inner diva.  I lost 15 pounds, started running {albeit slowly}, and was able to feel that I was physically similar to my new sisters.

{a side note here: in hindsight, the tragedy of my overweight story was not the weight itself, but the already unique outfits I put together, made more, um, special by my inability to choose appropriate sizes}

Flash forward to Tuesday evening when I coaxed that insecure girl into a Junior League meeting across town filled with strangers.  True, it didn't help that I was ten minutes late or that I had dropped a ketchup-covered pickle down my cardigan and onto my grey pants while trying to gobble down my quarter pounder and navigate against Siri's best directions to my foreign destination in a thunderstorm.  But.  I sucked up my courage, signed myself in, found a seat, and made a b-line to grab a glass of complimentary wine.

You know, I was okay!

I was once told that sometimes you just have to fake it until you can make it.  It's true that I have a sometimes paralyzing fear of strangers, although most people don't believe me.  At one point in my life, I had learned to master that fear.  Then I got comfortable.  Now, I must once again, learn to push past the fear of not being good enough and master it.

And.

I'm off to a good start.  I left my meeting with a business card, a little spring in my step, and a little less fear.

Happy fear fighting, y'all,

back from the abyss

Ya know how sometimes, when you take a break from something, you cross the threshold from "break" into "hiatus" and then into "abyss"?

Coming back from the abyss stage is kinda hard.

Which is why this little ditty will probably be short.  I just don't have my sea legs quite yet.

Luckily, my girl Julia is still hosting her Thankful Thursday link-up.  Being thankful will take the first-post-back pressure off, I think.

Here we go:

I'm thankful for...

{treadmills}

In addition to the blogging abyss, I fell into the running abyss as well.  Eleven holiday pounds had me weeping on the scale come January 1 and back on track {sort of literally} as of January 2.  Between the super cold days and the early sunsets, I'm thankful I have safe, warm, if not crowded and stuffy, treadmill on which to save my soul one mile at a time.

{LinkedIn}

There comes a point when a person, especially one who is surrounded by teenagers every day from 7:10-2:13, needs a space to learn and connect professionally.  Facebook is nice, but I relish social network that requires adults to be adults :)

{Overdrive}

While I have this nifty little function on my car, gas is far too expensive {as was my recent speeding ticket} to really get out on the road and pay it the attention it deserves.  I'm talking about the fabulous little app on my iPad that allows me to check out library books, read them, and then let them disappear when they are due.  No overdue charges.  Which is super good because I am currently banned from checking out real books from the brick-and-mortar library due to my excessive charges.  

{GTD}

I love love love love love making lists and organizing and labeling, and, well, you get the picture.  I love David Allen more because he taught me how to make big lists and not be intimidated by them.  I actually had to buy this book.  And.  It was worth it.  I feel all productive and ish for the new year.

It's good to be back, lovelies!  Toodles,

the day i couldn't concentrate

There are some days when concentration is simply impossible.

Today is one of those days, because...

We are on the verge of a four day weekend.

My new dryer will finally be installed on Friday {they are so kindly squeezing me in}.

I'm dreaming my dream where I move South and live in a little place where I can see the stars at night.

I am thinking about cowboy boots.

I am going to see this girl tonight with one of my besties.

I think I'm finally on the other side of the tough stuff for a bit.

I just checked out Gone With The Wind for my viewing pleasure this fine holiday weekend.

Did I mention that I was on the verge of a four day weekend?

So tell me, what's tickling your fancy this afternoon?

ode to a note

When I was in elementary school, the one where I had to bring my lunch, every so often I would find, stuck neatly in between the contents of my brown paper bag, a sweet note from my mama.

Handwritten notes are very important.  Especially in the age of 30-second, spur-of-the-moment text messages, e-mail, Facebook, and Twitter.


{We'll talk about the lost art of the face to face conversation some other day}

I've been reading a book about how the culture of Starbucks supports progress by following certain leadership principles.  The other day, I read the chapter about caring like you really care.  In that chapter, Howard Behar, the author, recounts how he sent a hand-written card to every employee on his or her birthday.  Every employee.  Every. single. one. of. them.

Whoa.

I mean, I spent a whole 31 days {ish} focusing on sweetness.  And.  I definitely covered the idea of caring like I care, even though I didn't really know that's what someone else had already called it.

I even planned to write a little ditty about the good 'ol thank you note.

But I didn't.

This week, though, I have been putting the idea of thank you notes into action.  With a twist.

The school where I teach uses a unique system to help track students' behavior and attendance over the course of a week.  The students carry a 4x5 in card to each of their classes, during class the teacher is able to mark if the student is not doing what he/she is supposed to be doing and the student is able to earn incentives if they have less than 3 marks on their card on Friday.

Because I hold on to the card during the hour and give it back to the student before they leave, I decided to use my trusty and super cute posty-note pad to leave encouraging notes to random students.  I don't write their names or mine on the note, because I don't want the kids to be embarrassed by the praise {or that I may have noticed they were feeling particularly down}; they know the note is for them because it is on their card and that is from me because it wasn't there when they gave it to me at the beginning of the hour.

I've given out five this week.

Most of the students have been very grateful and almost seemed to not believe that nice things could be said about them.  It makes me happy to know that they know I see the good in them.

it's the little things

It's Thursday again, y'all.  The second Thursday in November and right now that's a little bittersweet.  On one hand, I'm pretty pumped to be linking up with my blogger-buddy Julia and being thankful and all; but, it just hit me that this is only my 3rd post this month.  I guess I'm still suffering a bit from my 31 Days hangover.  At any rate, I've had tons to be thankful for this week.  So, let's get this party started...

feelin' all prettified 'n stuff
Very little makes me feel prettier than looking down at my hands when they are painted pretty.  Usually, Tuesday night is my nail 'n Hart of Dixie night.  Monday night, however, it became clear that my nails just could not make it to Tuesday {honestly, they shouldn't have even made it to Monday}.  I treated myself to a new color and painted away.  I'm still smiling at the cute new color and polka dots :)

repeating numbers
Some time ago, I decided that 11:11 was not enough.  The way I figure it, whenever a number is repeated three or more times, something special is happening.  In my world, it's a little love note from God to remind me that either I'm on the right track or that everything is gonna be okay.  Sunday, I received a phone call that came unexpectedly and answered a little prayer I've been praying lately.  When I hung up the phone, the time read 2:22.  I do not think this was a coincidence. at. all.

chivalry
I'm a strong, independent woman who believes enough in her own invincibility to occasionally attempt to break up fights between students.  Yesterday was one of those occasions.  Luckily, two male teachers saved me from myself and intervened, thus saving my fragile notion of invincibility and the bag of M&M's I was eating.

more chivalry
Upon the retelling of the incident to my principal, two Army recruiters, who happened to be in checking up with another student, overheard my peril and jointly offered their assistance.  They even volunteered to teach a class for me.  Complete with PowerPoints.  I love PowerPoints.  They are men after my sweet little heart {at least in my mind, anyway}.

running ridiculous distances and the cheering squad
I ran my fifth half-marathon with my super-duper running buddy on Sunday.  Last week was horrible. Not only was I able to leave the nonsense on the course, but I had an amazing and humbling outpour of support wishing me luck, cheering me on, and congratulating my finish.

Happy Thursday lovelies,

the day after

My most vivid memory of election day as a child was going with my dad to vote.  I was maybe 5.  I waited while he went behind the heavy velvet curtains, proudly displayed the sticker on my school uniform that the poll worker gave to me as we left, and proceeded to ask him who he voted for.  As I waited expectantly for his answer, I thought vividly about how as a class we voted with our heads down and hands up and about how we celebrated and discussed who we chose when no one was looking.

He told me it was none of my business.

My dad is a man of integrity.  He is a man who does his best to walk the fine line between fitting in and standing out; between following the rules and pressing the issue; between striving for a better life and finding happiness in the one that exists now.  My parents raised me to think independently, to look at all the angles, and to follow my heart rather than the crowd.  They took pride in my education and taught me to do the same.  To this day, I do not know which side of the isle my dad stands.  I honestly do not care.  My father's identity is not tied to his political affiliation and his vote does not determine his value as an American citizen.     

And today, on the day after, as I listen to the anger and joy, pride and disappointment, as I am judged by people I considered to be friends on the premiss of who I may or may not have voted for; I can't help but to think of my dad.  It is not my business who received your vote, nor is it your business which boxes I marked on my ballot.  It is only important to remember that we, who voted, filled our civic duty; we participated in the very freedoms that makes this country great, the freedom to advocate for ourselves and the freedom to have an opinion.

i kind of like november

Yesterday was kind of like crossing the finish line of my first half-marathon.  Pride.  Disappointment.  Confusion.  Excitement.

31 Days of Sweetness.  Over.

But, now it's November 1st.  And I kind of like November.  It may be my favorite.  It is a thankful month and I have a lot to be thankful for.  A LOT.  

So without further ado, I'm linking up with Miss Julia over at black tag diaries for a little bit of a thankful Thursday.

Faith.  

I've been doing a lot of praying lately, y'all.  And without putting all of my business out there, I promise you I would not be out of my bed right now if I didn't have my faith in God and His perfect plan.

Friends.  

Today is one of my favorite Anonymous Beloved's birthday.  Prior to this morning, when I called to wish him happy birthday, we had not talked for almost a year.  And yet, his voice was as familiar to me as if we spoke yesterday.  There is something so comforting in knowing that my peeps have my back and it prides me to know they know I have theirs.

Additionally, I have some seriously amazing AB's who have supported me, prayed for me, and put up with my crazy out of sheer love.  When I look through my text messages and replay certain recent events in my head, I am humbled at the amazing people who bless my life.

Family.
Maybe I'm a bit biased, but I have an amazing family. Enough said.

Happy November Lovlies,

day 22: reflect

What a difference a month can make.

As I look back on the past 30 days and 21 posts, I am proud of myself.  I knew 31 days in a row would be a challenge for me, and it was.  Sure, in hind-sight I see clearly where I could have done better, but I know that for each day this month I did the best I could do with what I had at the moment.  I have a list of things I've learned to do or not do for the next time around and another for the things I'd like to try.

At the end of the day, I feel that I'm leaving this month stronger and with more clarity than I came into it.  Really, isn't that all we can ever ask for?  To be better than we were.  

When I wrote the first post in this series, I had no idea what I was in store for in my writing life or in my everyday life.  Even though I was aware of some of the calendar events that I figured might offer hinderances in the process, I never imagined some of the other obstacles that rose up along the way.  That's life though.     

It's important to reflect on the things we've done, whether we're proud or ashamed of the process, the outcome, or both.  We have to look back fearlessly and take an honest inventory of what we've learned, what we've missed, the things we've done and those we wish we would have.  Reflection can be a painful process, because it requires honesty with the one person we lie to the most: ourselves.  

Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote: "the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude.”  Being a sweeter person isn't about putting on aires and being as close to impeccable as humanly possible, it's about becoming a more authentic person.  A person who is so secure in herself that she radiates that same sense of calm and serenity to those with whom she crosses paths.  We won't become if we can't reflect.

So, until next time y'all...

live, reflect, revise, repeat

day 21: impossibilities

"Alice laughed. 'There's no use trying,' she said: 'one can't believe impossible things.''I daresay you haven't had much practice,' said the Queen. 'When I was your age, I always did it for half-an-hour a day. Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.'"

- Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking Glass

Source: pinterest.com via Nabil on Pinterest

There are a lot of different takes on how it happened, but Alice fell through the rabbit hole and no matter which version is being told, nothing happened the way anyone expected it to.  Some days are strange like that.  Maybe the cat doesn't talk, the Queen of Hearts isn't breathing down our necks, and we don't have to fight the Jabberwocky.  But maybe, just maybe, we're caught in a day where other's expectations have us feeling trapped.  Where we feel like we will simply burst if we have to put on the act one. more. minute. 

A girl can just simply not be sweet when she is suffocated with all of the rules of the should's and must's.  It's why sweet has to come freely from the heart.  

A free heart is one that is open.  It is free to dream and explore and make mistakes and have successes.  A free heart is not stifled.  It is childlike and open to impossibilities because impossibilities do not even exist.

If we get caught up in believing everything that we are told as truth, well, we simply will have nothing else to do except find ourselves searching frantically for an escape.

Whether we realize it or not.

  

How many impossible things have you believed today?

day 20: pursue

I made bacon to go with my eggs for dinner tonight.  It was glorious.

And. 

Right now, as I type, I can hear one of my man-eaters in the kitchen trying to track down the remnants of said bacon.  I can hear her rummaging in the trash right now {of course, I'm on to her antics so I  threw the contraband away in the dumpster while she was still outside}; then she will go to the sink to try to sniff the dishes, but they have already been washed and put away; finally, I will hear her nose open the cabinet where I keep the screen that keeps the bacon from spitting.  At that last resort, I will have to leave you for a bit.  It's a little gross to let the dog lick the clean pots and pans.  Just sayin'.

The dog is relentless.  The kitchen is like her personal casino and dinner time is like playing a hard-core game of craps.  One time, I left the kitchen briefly and came back to find she had eaten a whole stick of butter.  What?  Who does that ish?  Apparently, my dog.  Another time, she managed to turn on the stove with her big ol' feet.  {That wasn't really funny, I for real have dreams that I wake up in the morning and she's got the burner lit and just-a-roarin'.}  Yesterday while I was making chili, she just about knocked me over trying to get a piece of onion that I had dropped on the floor.  I thought that might deter her scavenging ways, but clearly a little onion will not stand in the way of a bacon hunt.

All in all, though, Miss Sadie Lou is sweet.  She is stubborn.  She is head-strong.  She is prissy.  And if she had pinky fingers, she would have hers permanently and proudly raised.  And for goodness sakes, when she bats her eyes in the midst of whatever havoc she is wreaking, my heart just melts and I find myself fighting the urge to cuddle her.  {She only cuddles on her terms, ever been snubbed by a dog?  Right!  I told y'all she was stuck up!}

This man-eater has a whole lot to teach her mama about being sweet and holding her own at the same time.  But, the lesson this afternoon was that sweet doesn't mean settling with the same dog food every morning and every night.  It means employing stealth, creativity, and perseverance to savor even just the smell of some bacon.  

Or in the case of the pictures above, batting her sweet brown eyes thus deterring me from making the bed and forcing me to stop and love on her just a bit.  Until, of course, she had had enough of the lovey-dovey nonsense.  

day 19: forgive

The quote that hangs on the wall to the right of my desk at school is from Anne Lamott.  It reads:

“Forgiveness is giving up all hope of having had a better past."

Forgiving is a lot like accepting, except it has more to do with making peace with what has already happened.  Accepting is about making peace with things as they are currently happening.   It means taking out all of that baggage we carry around, looking at it, taking note of what we've learned by going through it {and carrying it around for so long}, accepting that we cannot change it, and then simply letting it go.

Here's how it starts:

Some unfortunate event occurs.  It does not matter whether the event was planned or accidental, real or imaginary.

That little side-talker in my head says something like "You shouldn't have done that." or "She has no right to do this."

And then it grows.  and grows.  and grows. 

Because sometimes I am too angry, afraid, dumbfounded to speak up or I can't because I don't know how or because the risk is too great.

Or I do.  And the repercussion is more than I thought I could handle or doesn't resolve it the way I thought it would.

Or.  The offending person is me.

And then I become resentful.

And trust me, my lovelies, I am not sweet when I am resentful.  I am mean.  I use my words to cut and hurt and demean.  

I destroy what fractured, splintered, hanging like "sinners in the hands of an angry God" piece of a relationship was left as a result of the unfortunate event.

The only person who is really hurt is me.

If I can learn to forgive, I can learn to accept.  If I can learn to see things in my past as they were without judgement; then I can learn to see people and things as they are, rather than what I want or hope for them to be.   If I can learn to forgive, I can stop punishing people for the things that others have done to me in the past.  If I can learn to forgive, I can trust people to be themselves.  And that, my darlings, is the sweetest thing of all.

day 18: be brave

I'm a lover of all things worded.  I love pretty fonts and profound words.  I love reading, pinning, and re-reading pinterest quotes.  {Really, this shouldn't be too surprising!}

Source: stylecaster.com via Laura on Pinterest

So, while I was looking through my boards for an appropriate quote for my last post, I realized something:

I have a lot of quotes about overcoming fear.  Probably because I spend a lot of time being afraid.

Source: flickr.com via Laura on Pinterest

Afraid of what, you may ask?

Really, I'm so glad you did.

I'm afraid of:
failure, success, dishonesty, honesty, moving forward, staying stuck, growing old alone, having a family, doing things wrong, being too dependable, being mean or rude, being a doormat, regret, being attacked by a crazy, being annoying, loving too much, loving too little, being fake, being to honest, not being good enough, being too good, but most of all...

I'm afraid that I've let all of this fear limit the amazingness of my life.

Source: laurenconrad.com via Laura on Pinterest

This past weekend, I took a little vacay to my cousin's wedding.  I almost let fear spoil my sweetness.  And when I look at it from a different angle, it becomes clear that when my anxiety gets kicked up a notch, I am not a sweet person.  at.  all.

Source: via Laura on Pinterest

Some time ago, Susan Jeffers told me to "feel the fear and do it anyway" and I know she's on to something.  Upon some further net searching, I came across the insight of John Maxwell who suggests that a gal might be plagued by fear if she is feeling apathetic, scatterbrained, alone, putting things off, or getting easily sidetracked.

We all want a diagnosis these days, what if most of our problems are rooted in that grand friend, plain old fight-or-flight inciting fear?  Just.  What if?

~or~

What would our lives look like if we pushed the limits?  If we were really brave enough to do it anyway?  

I'm not talking about jumping off of literal bridges here, just maybe digging a little deeper into the words of that little side-talker inside of our heads, you know, the one who says things like, "You don't have to do it today, if you don't want to..." and "You know you won't be good at that" or a personal favorite, "You know everyone expects you to, you just can't let them down now."  

What if today we all took a baby-step toward something we've always wanted but never thought possible.  Even if that baby-step is a simple internet search or a single sentence on a blank page?  Take a baby risk, then tell me about it.  How sweet was it to be brave?

day 17: give thanks

Whoa!  I've kinda gotten a little bit off track on my 31 day goal.  No worries, though, I have full intentions of jumping back on track and gettin' it done.  Rest assured, my lovelies, even though I haven't been writing, I've been doing some thinking and experimenting.  Trust me, I've had a lot of opportunities to practice my sweetness.

But without any further ado...

Today we're gonna talk about being thankful and giving thanks.  It's really really easy to get caught up in the hardness of the world around me.  It's second nature for me to be looking for the better option.  It is not easy for me to be actively thankful as I pay my bills, get up for work before dawn, and go about all of my mundane daily tasks.  BUT.  Those are precisely the tasks that we need to be most thankful for.  Here are just a few of the less-than-bragworthy things I have to be thankful for today:

Source: sparkpeople.com via Laura on Pinterest

I'm thankful for the bills in my mailbox because they mean that I have a job and can afford to have warm running water, electricity to refuel my many electronic toys, gas to heat my house and cook yummy meals for myself and friends and family, a fun car to drive, and a cozy house to hug me.

I'm thankful for four o'clock alarm clock because it means that I have a job to go to.

I'm thankful for my most difficult students because they push me to be a better teacher and person.

I'm thankful for my exhausting, whirlwind trip this weekend because it meant that I could see my cousin get married and spend time with my mama, aunts, uncles, and cousins who live far away; because it gave me a chance to explore a new city; and because I was able to have a fabulously interesting conversation with a stranger on the plane.

I'm thankful for the dog-hair tumbleweeds in the corner of my living room because it means that my ferocious man-eaters are alive and well.

I am thankful for the muddy paw prints on the kitchen floor because they mean that I have a back yard for my man-eaters to run and play in.

I'm thankful for my dishwater-chipped nail polish because it means that I had the resources to cook, serve, and eat a good, hot, hug-in-my-belly kind of meal for my dinner.

It's easy to be thankful of the good stuff y'all, but the sweetness really comes from being able to take the costume off of the things that look like curses and burdens.  What are curses and burdens are y'all thankful for today?

day 16: pray

I often compare my runs to life, it seems that each little run is a lesson that helps me move forward in my everyday life a little more smoothly; but, I also like to compare the bigger picture of life to a vacation with a lot of different people.  Almost ten years ago, my family took a four-generation, seventeen-person, two-minivan vacation to Florida.  Both grandmas needed wheelchairs, one needed to be pushed while the other refused to sit down; my step-grandpa wanted to go to Gatorland; the little girls wanted to be princesses; my brother was afraid of the water at SeaWorld; and, my mom and aunt made us all wear matching t-shirts.  We all had stuff we wanted to do, expectations for the trip, and the mutual conclusion that if we couldn't get along, we wouldn't have fun.  I think life is like this.

One of my Anonymous Beloveds is a tremendous planner.  I'm not gonna lie, I love to vacay with her because everything is always taken care of.  Even when something I'm not super into is on the agenda, I'm able to relax and enjoy it {some times more than others} because she's got everything under control.  I know for a lot of people in my life, I represent a similar calmness and security.  We all represent this for at least one person in our lives.

And, sometimes it's a lot for a girl to carry on her shoulders.  But, y'all already know that.

It's no surprise {or probably a coincidence, either} that I've been working through some stuff as I've been writing this series.  In a way, we're always working on something {or working on not working on it}.  It always is just a wee bit funny when the thing I've been searching for has been in my face, under my nose, or in my hand almost mocking me while I've run around like a cray-cray trying desperately to find it.  And of course, it's way worse when I'm über-stressed about all of things I've got to get done and all of the people who need all of the other things, and so on and so forth. So here's what smacked me in the face yesterday morning.  Y'all ready?

God is kinda like my AB, except with way more resources and is not at all daunted by carrying it all on His shoulders.  He's ready to take the load.

Then, I realized that in the midst of all of this stuff, I had forgotten to pray.

Source: thebestpinterestpics.blogspot.com via Laura on Pinterest

The thing is that praying isn't just about asking God for the things and outcomes that we want; it's about confiding in Him our deepest fears and concerns and asking for advice.  It's a conversation.  And it doesn't always take place while I'm on my knees at the side of the bed.  Sometimes it takes place while I run.  Sometimes over my morning coffee.  And sometimes, little signs like repeating numbers or the hourly notifications I set on my phone telling me that God is in control reminder me that I'm on the right track or that I need to get back on it.

When I first got my man-eaters, I read A LOT of books about dog training.  One of the most consistent piece of information I learned, no matter the method, was that dogs need to re-learn everything you teach them in every new situation they are in.  Humans are like that, too.  It so explains why I give great advice that I, for the life of me, cannot follow myself.  {It's okay to nod your head a little bit if you see a little bit of yourself in this, I won't tell.}  It also explains how I forgot to pray.

Stuff can be throw-you-off-the-tracks-completely hard.  Really, it's just a new opportunity to learn something new or master a tactic.  For me, it's been a little bit of both and prayer is a necessary piece to lightening the load.  I know for sure that carrying it all around does not a sweet lady make.

day 15: make it fun{ny}

Source: playwithyourfamily.com via Laura on Pinterest

A couple of weeks ago {ten and half, to be exact} I was fairly successful in my personal goal to have a good ol' almost-pee-my-pants kind of a laugh once a week.  I was successful for three weeks in a row.  Then.  I went back to having an adult life, filled to the brim with deadlines, to do's, seriousness, meetings, and all of the other stuff that a girl can ignore during a summer hiatus from the adult world.

Two weeks ago, I caught myself, mesmerized in of my Godson's laughter and I realized how far away I've gotten from my own.  There is nothing more beautiful that the way children look and sound when they laugh.  For just those few moments, all that is arduous and burdensome in the world disappears and there is only the sweetness of pure joy.

Since I re-became a functioning adult, I have not laughed good and hard, much less hard enough to almost pee my pants.  I'm not sure how sweet a girl can be when she's too busy taking the world so seriously.

My solution?  To fake it till I make it, baby!

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When I was a kid, one of my favorite games was the ha-ha game.  The rules were simple, in a group of at least two people, each person took a turn saying "ha" one more time than the person before her.  So, for example I would say "ha" and then you would say "ha ha".  We would continue doing that, adding one ha at a time until one player {usually me} could not control the serious any longer and burst out in genuine laughter.

I seriously loved that game.

Today, I will be playing it with myself.  All.  Day.  Long.  Maybe even all week.  I'll be the one laughing at her own jokes.  The one putting things back into perspective.  The one reclaiming my sweetness, one laugh at a time.

day 14: but don't settle

Theres a little voice inside all of our heads that tells us what we can and can't do.  It affirms what we subconsciously believe is {or is not} possible.  We'd like to stand up and scream in its face that what it is saying is false, but we second guess.

Oh, the what-if's.

Yesterday we talked about how it is a-okay to not be perfect.  But.  There's a fine line here.  Because, while we are all amazing in our own sweet imperfect way, it's not okay to settle for mediocre.  It's not okay to let that little voice convince you to stop, give up, or give in.

Take for example, my dishes.  My dishwasher is otherwise disguised as my two sweet little hands and the only garbage disposal that exists in my house doubles as two, four-legged, tail-wagging, man-eaters who prefer dumpster diving over actually eating men.  So you can understand, then, why I despise cleaning up after dinner and why sometimes I'd rather let one of my many personal chefs cook dinner.  It's one thing to accept that I'm not probably going to ever have a real dishwasher in my current house; but, it's a complete other thing to give-up on the whole having-a-house-that-hugs-me-back thing, feel defeated because I have to do it myself, tell myself that I don't deserve to have nice things if I can't have dishwasher, let all my dishes pile up, and become a hoarder eating off of paper plates while the real ones grow things in the sink.  Ok.  So, maybe it wouldn't be that serious.  But it could be.

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I've struggled a little lately with the concern of losing the wit and snark that I so closely identify with in my endeavor to become sweeter.  I have feared the idea that sweet might mean ignoring boundaries and putting on the facade of a constant state of "nice-ness" and perpetuating doormat-like tendencies.  In the last several days, however, it seems that by becoming more sweet, I have opened the door for me to feel more authentically like my self, more confident in my "flaws", and more determined to deepening my connections with beloveds.  My conclusion is that my desire to be sweet is really my desire to be a better, happier, more welcoming, more imperfectly unique me and nothing less.

day 13: accept

I was supposed to run 10 miles on Saturday morning.  I ran 4.  And I'm honestly not sure what if I did could even be called a "run".  But there were 4 of them.  Nothing more.  Nothing less.  4.  Four.

Last Thursday, I ran five miles like I was a rock star.  No, really.

It's funny how one day can seem like the only possible limit might be the sky and then, in a matter of seemingly minutes, that same limitless sky seems to be falling faster than my poor heart did after hearing that my alma mater lost their homecoming game this weekend.  ugh.  and to a mean team.

The fact is that not every day, run, or body for that matter, is gonna be perfect.  In fact, perfection isn't probably ever going to happen and we just have to accept that.  Undoubtably, it is when we do finally figure this out that we learn how to truly love.

For as long as I can remember, I've beens searching for approval.  striving to be perfect.  because my underlying belief has always been that I was not enough.

This is painful to write, to see it in print on this screen, because for 32 years, I've known this wasn't true, I just, for the life of me, can't seem to believe it.

And then, Saturday, while I was cussing a little about how I should be doing better than I was, a little voice cut through the anger and self-condmenation and said, "hey, let yourself off the hook!"

Sometimes our high expectations and aims for perfection prevent us from seeing the truth in ourselves and in others.  We can't really be sweet to someone if we can't accept them for who or what they are.  And really, how sweet can we be to others if we can't be sweet to ourselves?

day 12: handle your business

Anxiety and insecurity are not only ugly, they are not sweet. They are huge attention whores and only leave a girl drowning in her stupid drama, prayin' and hopin' that some sweet person is going to come and throw her a life preserver.   They prevent us from living fully and relishing in the amazing things that we so often fail to notice in our everyday lives.  Now, there is no shame in taking a helping hand once in a while, but there is no gain in sitting around waiting for someone to come save a sister from her own self.  No one likes a person who is needy.  And I'm gonna tell you that this anxiety ish that has gotten in my brain today has made me feel ultra nee-dee today.

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Ultimately, the cold hard truth is that no one is going to save us from ourselves.  They can't.  It's impossible.  It is a choice that we have to make on our own.  And it's usually more difficult than we think we can handle at the moment.  Especially because the underlining belief is usually that something happening beyond our control is taking control of our lives.  

So how am I gonna get out of my drama and back to my sweet self?

I'm gonna pray.

I'm gonna focus on the things in my life that I have control over: my thoughts, my actions, my words.

I'm gonna spend some time with people and doing activities that make me happy.

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I'm gonna check some stuff off of my todo list and maybe even attempt reign in the beast of disorganization that has wreaked havoc in my once cozy little home office.

And then, once I've found myself back on sweet stable ground and my life is back under control and in perspective, I'm gonna address this drama mess.

But not until I know I can do it sweetly.  Addressing problems is about solving them, not creating more.

day 11: relish

It was as the end of second hour today when, while patrolling the classroom, I looked back up at the board as a reference to the point I was making and experienced a small surge of joy run through my soul.   What, you might I ask, could a girl possibly see that could possibly bring so much excitement?

This:

I'm bringing diagramming back, yo!  

Then, ya know how there's always those people at the gym?  Today there was that woman who could not for the life of her seem to pick up her feet while she ran.  For reals, I could her the squeaking of her shoes fighting the belt on the mill over the Eric Church I was rocking out to.  And, a couple of weeks ago, I was on a machine next to that girl who used the treadmill like it was a ballet bar {for the record, I love me some fluidity bar workouts, I just tend to think it best to use a *bar*}.  At any rate, I think I became THAT girl tonight, right next to the squeaker, while I mouthed the words to every song {and maybe, possibly threw in a couple of head bobs or arm movements} over my whole. entire. fifty-five minute. workout.  and ya know what?  I don't care.

Earlier in this series, I mentioned the charming little objective of having a life that hugged me back as a priority to becoming more sweet.  In order to have this, a girl needs to relish in the things that build her up and while those things are different for everyone, the tend to fit into at least one of three categories:

• Things I love and I do not mean that I like them.  I mean I love, love, love them.  The reason doesn't matter, just the love.  
• Things I need.  I did not need to make pecan pie last night, although I do need to eat, but I love pecan pie and so I did make it and then ate it for dinner.
• Things I use.  Not the things I'm going to use when..., but things I use now or for a particular occasion, like my Christmas tree.

Of course not everything is going to fit into one of these categories, like say, the dear beloved who drives me batty with crazy talk about things that are not usually very important to me.  I do not love him, probably don't need him, and find very little applicable use in him {although once in a blue moon, he reveals tidbits of information that I find intriguing} BUT I do value him as a human and as a beloved and so it is important to me that I am sweet to him.  

You know the old adage about dancing like no one is watching, it's about creating that life that hugs you.  It's about relishing in the things that bring us joy.  Because as I realized while I mouthed along on the hamster wheel marinating over this post, the more I surround myself with and relish in the things that really matter, the more my life hugs me; and, the more my life hugs me, the more easily my sweetness flows.  When my life hugs me {for me it's when my relationship with God is open, my running is regular, and I've been able to, if only for a short while, let go of the what-if's that often plague me}, I feel balanced and that I can grin and bear the not-so-sweet aspects of life for just a little bit longer.  I may not particularly love that dear man, but I do love the peace that comes from an amicable relationship with him.  It becomes a cycle y'all.