Good one.

Sometimes during my lunch hour, I like to wander through Home Depot. I don’t know why. It’s just nearby and I like shiny things that plug into the wall and make loud noises. As you can imagine, the employees there don’t love my visits and I may have induced a heart attack or two picking up that little table saw thingy.

Anyways, I was walking around there the other day when I realized I didn’t have my phone. I rounded a corner where a burly guy was looking at door knobs and I asked him if he had the time.

His response? “If you have the energy.”

I have enough guy friends that I can appreciate a clever pick-up line. I gave him one of those awkward hand-gun-clicks and left, haha, because I still didn’t have the time or know if  I was running over my hour.

But it made me start thinking about all of the crazy things I’ve heard… or read… or witnessed… or experienced… on this whole “pick-up-line” front and I’ve realized that I could easily write a book about it all. And maybe one day I will. In the meantime, I’ll be working up a post of the best of them so stay tuned for that.

It’s rainy and cold outside and I’m ready for bed (it’s 2:45pm) so here’s to the HomeDepot lumberjack and the promise of another post soon.


Ready for a slowdown…

12112183_10156091618560697_7308707873147890979_nHello! It’s been a little while (again)! My bestie got married this past weekend; she was stunning, her groom was glowing, and everything went off without a hitch. It was by far one of my very favorite weekends. There was a lot going on leading up to it though, and now that it’s over, life slows back down for me… which I’ve needed.

Yesterday was my first day “back to normal” and I had daydreamed all day about taking the evening easy, making dinner for some friends, and relaxing. I even skipped the gym because I “deserved” a little rest night. I walked into my apartment, which I had cleaned up the night before, with a sigh of relief and headed straight for the shower to kick off the much-needed calm night in.

After showering, I threw back my shower curtain to realize that all of my towels were still in the dryer around the corner from my bedroom, so I tiptoed out of the bathroom and rounded the corner to come face to face with the building maintenance man, who had come to pick up the portable AC unit that had been in my hallway.

We both screamed bloody murder, I ran back to the shower, and I’m pretty sure I heard him fall over something before scrambling around and hollering at me that he was heading out.

Haha, not the calm-relaxing night I had had in mind.

But, needless to say, the next time I have a maintenance repair request, I expect it will get done PRONTO …I’ve paid my dues.

…there’s a bright side to everything.

Quick thoughts

I got your crazy…

It’s another one of those Monday mornings. When I rolled out of bed 27 minutes after my alarm went off and looked in the mirror for a “you can do it” pep-talk, my face was so swollen I caught myself poking at my cheeks like, “what the…

Then I moseyed into the kitchen where I make eggs and coffee every morning on auto-pilot. My kitchen is really small and I can almost reach every part of it standing in the same place. I put the cartoon of eggs on the counter and turned my back for a split second to grab my coffee and I heard an icky splat-crunch-drip combo sound. Entire carton of 12 eggs on my tiny kitchen floor.

Raw eggs are gross! They have like a weird non-scoopable (off the floor at least) quality but you also can’t just like blot / wipe / soak them up, ya know?

Anyways, I came by here to share something quick and funny I learned about myself this weekend. I spent another weekend soaking up time with different groups of amazing friends and mixing-in with new people.

One of the nights, I met a man who, after a little small talk, told me he’d “bet” that I was “a little crazy” and in my head, I thought, “I will… strangle you… with my brain fool,” and my eyeballs felt a little hot in my head.

I’ve always wondered about those women who can act totally psychotic and yet always get to keep the good guys around. Some of my guy friends let this happen to them. Why? How? Huh?! I’ve never had it in me, not like that. Or at least I didn’t think I did. Apparently, as I learned this weekend, staring at this guy, waiting for him to catch fire from my thoughts, it might be in me. Just a little. Deep down. Waiting for someone who actually knows me and whose opinion actually matters, to say it.

“Girl, stop being crazy!” …. “Oh, okay, I’ll show you crazy. Buckle up buddy.” (Haha, I’ve always wanted to say that.)

…it’s probably not really in me but… if it is… you’ve been warned.

Have a great non-crazy Monday!


A little perspective…

I want so desperately to stay better on top of this thing but whoa, October is kicking my butt so far (and we’re only one week in)!

Some of my long time friends married each other this past weekend and my best friend marries an amazing man next weekend! Awesome things, for sure.

Because I’m so overwhelmed by all the happy happenings though, I’m stealing a writing I found on Facebook to fill my space. You may have already read it; it’s been trending the last couple of days but it has popped in and out of my mind since I read it on Monday! It is awesomely written and in these days when everyone else’s lives seem “more exciting” or “further along”… this writing is a raw brave reminder that everyone has their “things”.

So… I promise next time I’ll have another embarrassing story or something awkwardly personal but in the meantime…

Genevieve V Georget's photo.

September 30 at 7:58pm

It was a Wednesday afternoon when I walked into Starbucks that day nearly six years ago. I stood at the bar, waiting for my drink, when the barista politely asked me what I was up to that day. As it turns out, I was en route to the airport at that moment…about to catch a flight to Italy with my husband. After a brief minute of chatting, the barista handed me my coffee and wished me a nice trip. “But then again”, she said “why wouldn’t you…your life is golden!”

I’ll admit…the gold star was nice. But at the same time, the words knocked the wind out of me. She wasn’t being rude. She wasn’t being sarcastic. In fact, she was being totally genuine. And that’s the part that really took my breath away.

Because here’s the thing…

This lovely girl saw me for all of five minutes a day. Usually all dressed up on the way to my full-time job at one of the country’s most prestigious art galleries. Or with my camera in hand to photograph two people in love. Or, yes, on my way to Italy for ten days to celebrate my anniversary. This is what she saw. Therefore, this is what she knew.

And truth be told, there is darkness in this kind of knowledge. Especially now, when so many of our connections happen only five minutes at a time…fully filtered and perfectly hash tagged. In our defense though, it’s not entirely our fault. That battle we’re fighting…those rough days were having…they don’t tend to translate very well when you have twenty people in line behind you for coffee or a hundred and forty characters to spell out your day.

Honestly, what was I going to tell my barista?

“Yes, we’re flying to Europe. I just miscarried our baby…we had a terrifying health scare…I’m suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder…and we’re feeling pretty far from God right now. So, yeah, going to Italy seemed as good a place as any to just run away from our life and justifiably eat gelato twelve times a day.”

No. I wasn’t going to tell her this. Because shocking total strangers into oblivion is a bit harsh and cruel. Especially when she’s the girl in charge of making your coffee every day.

But I did spend the entirety of that flight wondering; about our sense of authenticity…our collective vulnerability…our polished identity. And it made me feel like a total fraud. Because I’m not any of those things that this girl sees on the other side of her coffee bar.

If I showed up one morning, wearing my most ragged and scarred self…it would be a very different girl staring back at her [and she would likely feel inclined to serve me alcohol instead of coffee!]…

Because I was bullied a lot as a teenager.

I’m afraid of thunderstorms.

I spend an absurd amount of time worrying about what other people think of me.

My biggest challenge in life is letting go of people. Even if they hurt me.

I hide behind my humor for fear that people won’t accept me without it.

I feel like I have failed as a daughter.

I try to avoid big groups so that I won’t feel like the invisible one among it.

I’m insanely self-conscious of my smile.

I feel like I’m an easy person to walk away from in life…and it haunts me on a daily basis.

I almost always operate under the assumption that I care more about everyone else than they do about me.

I unfollow people on Instagram if their life seems too perfect because it makes me feel inadequate.

I feel like a terrible mother pretty much all the time.

I hate emptying the dishwasher.

Every day, I’m afraid that my husband is going to wake up and finally realize how much crazy he married.

I thank God for every day that he doesn’t!

I don’t like to try new foods…so I travel with my own jar of peanut butter.

I want to write a book so badly that it hurts. But I’m afraid of people telling me that my life was never worth telling.

I struggle, every single day, with feeling like I’m enough. Skinny enough. Funny enough. Good enough.

And I cry. A lot.

I highly doubt I would get a gold star for any of this. But, now, six years later, I do know one thing for sure; that even with all of my frailty…all of my fears…and all my faults…none of those things make my life any less golden.

Scars tell stories. Scars mean survival. Scars mean you showed up for the fight instead of running from it.

And we’ve all got them…even the sweet girl serving my coffee. She’s fighting her own battle…defending her own front line…struggling in her own way.

And maybe it’s not about collecting gold stars for the perceived reality we give the world on Facebook…but it’s about the purple hearts we get for living bravely among the real one.

Because life requires guts…it requires bravery…and it requires vulnerability.

So, buy your coffee…wear your scars proudly…and carry on, dear soldier…

You’re not in this battle alone.

photo credit: | Richelle Hunter Photography