one hundred. eighty three.

Today at work there was the most darling little girl in with her mom and sister.
Her mom got some blended caramel butterscotch drink, her sister got a smoothie.
Meanwhile, this tiny fair-skinned, pixie cut blonde child was staring intensely at the list of teas. She couldn't have been more than 8 or 9.
So maturely, she asked to smell several different teas. She had the biggest, most solemn blue eyes that just peeked over the counter. An old soul packed into this little bit of a girl.
After carefully smelling 3 different green teas, she chose the gojiberry pomegranate.
So adorable.

Lately, I've been doing a bit of this [I am including pictures to give this blog some visual interest. Ignore the terrible quality of my webcam.]:

I have written half of a song. I'm going to count it as my first, because the other one I made up was probably 12 years ago, and was dedicated to my mother. It went something like: "You're not perfect, you do cry. I guess you're normal just like I." Clearly I'm a genius with lyrics.

I have also been reading this fabulous book. I am finding it mucho interesting and it is giving me more gumption to follow through on living in a more sustainable way. Most of the time my gumption just falls back into reading about other people who are living that way, which makes me feel better because I begin to live vicariously through them. However, at the end of the day this is not effective. Ergo, hello canning trial & error this autumn.

I had a birthday! I celebrated by purchasing salmon for dinner, which was delightful and worth every penny. Where do I have to live to eat salmon every day? Because that's where I need to end up. My birthday also happened to be the day a zillion people lost power in my area, our family included. Happy Birthday to me.

Last night Bethany and I went to a dear little show at the Starline Gallery. They had this theater company come in and do "The Taming of the Shrew" in the wide open space on the first floor. I fell in love with the brick walls and big windows, we brought a blanket and some snacks because they wanted an "indoor Ravinia feel." Worked like a charm, except next time we'll bring chairs. The floor is a little rough halfway through a Shakespeare play. I've never seen/read the comedy, but found it delightful.

In my head I've been doing quite a bit of writing, gourmet cooking & training for a fierce obstacle course. In real life I spend too much time watching random documentaries on Netflix and staring at random objects while lost in thought.

one hundred. eighty two.

I am currently obsessed with "Ulysses" by Josh Garrels. It is truly a thing of beauty. I listened to it as we were flying over hills/deserts on my first ever plane ride last week. It's the perfect traveling song - driving, flying, biking, sailing (naturally, since it's about sailing...). It just has that feel to it. You know?

So. My first ever plane ride!
I think I tend to make a big deal out of many things in my life. So many occasions strike me as momentous or especially enthralling.
While this is good for me because I end up rarely disappointed in life, to others it might appear that I am over-dramatic.
It's not like I'm spinning in circles with arms outstretched in the airport, singing. I was, however, one of the happiest people on that plane. That may have also been due to the fact that it was 5:10 in the morning; most people were tired & cranky.
The plane ride was probably not good for me, though. I gazed out the window for the longest time on high hills and stretches of land that I longed to visit. I like the west, there are a lot of open spaces and high peaks. I am restless and want to travel, want to walk those hills. I like visiting places an awful lot, I love seeing how other people do life. I'd especially like to get a passport and see how people do life outside of the states.

California is a neat place, and the wedding we went to was the most lovely. I've only been to several weddings that felt so right. It just spreads through the air as family and friends are happy for the union, encouraged by it even. It's something that sends people away with hope. Both sets of parents were so grateful to the other set for raising such a wonderful child. Jacob and Jenna are two of the sweetest people I know, it made for such a fun, joyful wedding, so centered around God and His work in their lives.

Another California adventure: fell asleep in the sun day one since I'd had relatively no sleep, so I burnt alive and was peeling pretty hideously by the time the wedding came around. It literally looked like I had some skin pigmentation problems. It didn't show up in pictures (I think?) but anyone who got too close to me gave me some funky stares.
We also did some of the things you're supposed to do, like go to In-N-Out Burger, watch the surfers on the pier, and visit the most beautiful park, Torrey Pines, which had a beach I'd like to live on. We also went to several fun, eclectic little places and little markets that were very dear or very strange. Really, one or the other.

Now it's back to the humdrum which I love so much. I returned to work to find that some customers hadn't come in since I'd left, then came in today for my first day back. Makes a girl feel pretty special.

one hundred. eighty one.

Had the most girly evening with Bethany a few days ago: we padded around her new apartment in our bare feet & served up some pasta on old china. Then we hunkered down for an evening with Audrey Hepburn and fresh peach pie, finishing it all off with chatting over french press decaf. Delightful.

This week I've had sort of a mini vacation which turned mostly into catching up on things I haven't been doing, i.e. cleaning/weeding, plus catching up with friends and cheering up the dearest friend. Today I cleaned like a madwoman in the morning so that I could take a few hours to drive up to Lake Geneva in the afternoon. I soaked up some sun, read, napped like a kitten in the warmth, wrote a letter, perused shop windows...a few hours later I felt nearly brand new.

I start far too many books at one time. I've lost count of how many I'm reading presently.
I've been without my journal all week and have since felt the strongest urge to journal. Never mind that I have been slacking quite a bit on journaling, if I know I can't do something I really want to do it.
It's a destructive habit.
Also, it's just extremely disconcerting to be without my journal. Sometimes I write things and think "If this got published, I would probably be famous."
But, most times it's rubbish, embarrassing rubbish at that.

I always comment anonymously on other blogs, but when people comment anonymously here I get so inquisitive. Backwards, I know. Serves me right for trying to be mysterious/too afraid.

It's been a good while. Sometimes if I feel especially vulnerable I won't write because I feel like I'll betray something. I don't even write in my journal.

This is bad because then periods of vulnerability go undocumented. I might glean something if I learned to write honestly and carefully during those times. 

I should also install a recording device in my car, because I frequently talk things out there as I drive, which I think might be humorous in about 20 years. 

Last thing: Tonight I took vanilla ice cream and put on dark chocolate shavings and pecans. For some reason I felt like a total genius. It was delicious, by the way. 

one hundred. eighty.

Hello, summer.
Weeks ago Alex and I hunted down spring buds on bushes in the forest preserve, and today I come home and notice that my yard is shady and cool because the trees have become full of leaves.
It usually happens like that, I see the beginnings but always miss the middle of spring. Tulips leaves just barely push out of the ground, so I rejoice, but I miss the middle and catch them once they've bloomed.
Today I struggled and huffed and puffed, pushing our ancient broken lawnmower over our yard which out of nowhere turned into a field of grass & dandelions, probably rivaling the lush greens of the Amazon. Probably. Then I proceeded to weed around some ferns and strawberry plants that run along the edge of our driveway. To keep me company I decided play artists on my ipod that I never listen to: The Local Natives and Monster of Folk.
Other signs of spring/summer would be the baby rabbit that has been eating carrots we put out and the small cries of the fuzzy starlings just hatched under the roof of our garage.
[quite lovely.]
I have disabled my Facebook for summer time so I can live a bit more, send out really truly letters, write in my journal and embrace things that are not digital [i.e. less of the digital friends, pictures, conversations, etc.]. It was a strange feeling detaching myself from it, but today I'm feeling a sense of freedom.
In other news: I am currently grooving to the youtube channel watchlistentell, which has a collection of nice music
I'm enjoying a new bike that is old
I have a growing list of DIY projects that I would like to tackle [suitcase chair? anyone?]
My feet are still tender from winter so I walk barefoot often, in case I need to dash through the woods like an Indian
& some days I pretend that I can play the ukulele.

About a week ago at work, my very favorite couple stopped in. They are older [I'm really wretched with ages, so I couldn't hazard a guess], and perhaps I've talked about them before. They always lean in to each other. Ringing bells? Well, they are just adorable, unlike the other grouchy couples who come in, who barely talk because they've spent their lives together and now are just sick of hearing the other person. My favorite couple always gets a skim latte each, and lean in and talk like it's their fourth date [quite comfortable, but still interested].
Anyhow, so the lady comes up to the counter and I ask her how long they've been married.
She laughs and says it's been 38 years.
I tell her that they are my favorite couple, that I've talked about them to others, how they always seem to enjoy being together.
She said that they really do, and also says they just finished some race or triathlon together a few weeks ago. They just like being together. She laughed a little bit more.
It was just darling.

one hundred. seventy nine.

I've started to compile my summer reading list.

This stack of books is not conclusive. 

It's just the stack of books that I have sitting around to read. 

Should keep me busy.

I'm looking forward to summer so much.

I'll be signing out of facebook as soon as school ends

and not signing back on until cooler weather rolls around.

That will be nice. 

I'll still be working

but not homeworking.

I'll be driving. So much.

And flying for the first time.

I'll be getting my hands dirty in our garden and helping to host salad parties that I will invite you to if you like fresh salad. 

What are you reading & planning?

one hundred. seventy eight.

The strangest day so far.
I'll blame it on last night. About to go to sleep when I decide to take a swig of the water bottle sitting next to the bed.
You know those cleaning commercials when it makes the "DUN DUN DUN DUN" noise, that frightening music, followed by the screeching sound when you glimpse the pawprint from Fido on your carpet?
Tell me you know what I mean.
In any case, that was going through my head as I was taking delicious gulps, then glanced down at the bottle to see dainty, fluffy little clumps of mold clinging to the sides and floating around.
Who knew mold could grow in a water bottle?!
I warned my sister to check my vital signs every few hours and tried to sleep.
Woke up this morning feeling especially groggy. Went to work, thankful that it was a short shift, and thankful it was Tuesday. Tuesdays are unusually uneventful.
The day is going on merrily, until about 8:30 when crazy man walks in.
I knew immediately and instinctively that he would be crazy.
I'm making friendly small talk with the police officer who always gets a honey latte. I tell crazy man I'll be right with him. Crazy man walks right up to the counter and asks me how my morning has been.
"...It's been good, thanks, how has your morning been?"
"Not good. Just got a seat belt ticket. And I have no money. But I'm not going to let it ruin my day."
"Good plan."
Personally, I would never discuss tickets in front of a police officer, seems like some sort of faux pas, but this guy seems to have no problem. The police officer gives me a sympathetic glance, then takes his latte and walks out the door. I silently rage at being left alone with crazy man.
Crazy man asks for a small coffee in a large cup, so that he can put a load of cream in. Not that I'm counting, but it's a decent 10 oz. of cream he throws in there.
He makes random requests, a phone book, switch cups, put the phone book back he forgot he had his own, etc. He is disoriented.
He sits with his phone book and begins to make calls with his phone on speaker. He is calling pharmacies. I surmise that he might potentially be off his meds. He puts his phone down for a second and then suddenly, literally SUDDENLY is asleep. Passed out. In his sleep he twitches and takes off his shoes.
I tell my boss and random customers that he is probably just conducting a social experiment to see if we will kick him out.
I laugh loudly, bang pitchers on the counter and yell "GOODBYE" to customers as they leave.
No response.
My boss doesn't want to kick him out, she is a little scared of him.
He is startled and wakes up, strangely not at any point that I was making noise. In waking up he dumps his creamy coffee all over the floor. He then places his foot, sock only, right in the middle of the puddle and goes back to sleep.
We make Paul, the manager from the other side, go and wake him up and tell him we need to clean up his mess.
He apologizes profusely, but I suspect he is still asleep by the drooling he is doing as he's talking. We encourage him to go to the bathroom and splash some water on his face. He agrees, but not before taking off his soaked socks, putting on his shoes and leaving his socks on the floor behind him.
We clean everything up.
He comes back out, apologizes again, buys another coffee and then leaves, but not before jumping from sitting in his car to checking his trunk multiple times.
Glen - the man who sits in the computer tech window we have in our coffee shop - says that I attract crazy people, because I am crazy.
Thanks Glen.
We then have a jolly conversation about social experiments and he gives me a piece of chocolate.
So, all in all...strange times.
Anyhow, currently I'm hoarding a table at Panera during the lunch rush, so I'm feeling some guilt. I should probably get up and let some old friends sit here and catch up. I also should spy on the delicate drawing the man in front of me is doing in blue pencil. I've been craning my neck to catch a glimpse.

one hundred. seventy seven.

Current battle: Christina vs. Diet Diary.
My biology teacher is making us all do a diet diary for a week, writing down not only calories but fat, saturated fat, sugars, fiber, carbs, sodium and protein.
This is turning every meal into quite the ordeal. [unintentional rhyming.]
Not only do I feel guilty when I've downed three Oreos after lunch and I'm giving Nutella longing glances an hour later, but I also have to add up everything I eat.
Example: Yesterday I wanted a tuna sandwich. I need to measure portions and then tally up all the above points for the tomato, bread, tuna, salt, mayo, mustard and cheese. Ridiculous.
I'm about ready to just give up on eating for the rest of the week.
I've also started looking at foods to see which ones only have five ingredients, because I was reading a book about how you should only eat foods with 5 ingredients.
This would eliminate some of my diet.
Especially Oreos.

I have been positively awful at blogging and journaling. I don't know how my days seem so short, I'm only taking 2 classes and yet my homework load seems strangely overwhelming when combined with work, family & friends. I wish I did have time to write, it seems I have a lot to write about. Someday when I publish my memoirs/coffee shop book, you'll know.

Current other things that occupy my time besides homework/work would be my ukulele that I've been trying to learn how to play [wretched strumming patterns are confusing], a trip to Nashville where I had my first shot of tequila and left with an LP from The Civil Wars which I have been fairly obsessed with. Also, spending my time with this charming chap named Alex. It's a good story, I'll tell you sometime.

I've been thinking too. Drives to work and school and friends leave time for lots of thinking - I end up wishing more came out of it, something with a forward motion.
& I'm thinking about being empty.
There are good connotations to this - emptying yourself for another and such.
Being empty might be better than being full, i.e. full of oneself or too complacent and satisfied so that you no longer hunger.

One thing I'm frightened of is empty words.
They hang there after I've said them and hold no weight, even float away.
When I grab her arm and say "I'll be praying for you."
Do those words hold meaning or do I just say them because we say these things?
When I look at you & say "I'm sorry," am I really?
When I express love or sorrow, are my words reflecting true feelings and initiative or seem listless and shallow?
Even as customers walk out the door with their coffee at the shop, and I send them off with a "Have a good day!" I'd like to mean that too. I earnestly want them to have a good day. I want to earnestly love and sorrow and apologize and pray, want my words to hold meaning and weight.
You know?