What I Learned in February

I (re)learned that I love using a machete.  Love it.  Like, if someone says "Hey Mariah, do you want to get a pedicure while munching on Thin Mints and watching Air Force 1, or hack down saplings in your backyard with a machete" then I'm all like "Do I really have to choose?  Can't I mach-et-tay first, and pedicure later?"  Love it so much.  The blisters you get on your hands, makes me feel alive.  Foolish, but alive.  (Gloves?  What are these gloves you speak of???)

There is no such thing as being excessive when it comes to baby pictures.  Remember this book I was working on?  Well, we finished at (81) 12"x12" pages, plus the cover.  And there's still so many pictures I didn't include.  Of course, I don't really remember those pictures now, and I won't remember the pictures that I didn't include when I'm showing this mammoth book to RG's homecoming date, but I will definitely remember all of the pictures I did include, and so I'm glad I went big instead of staying home.

To double-check personalization.  Remember this picture?

Well, I used my awesome giveaway winnings from Pear Tree Greetings to print 50 of these postcards, and I mailed them to friends and family, with the default return address of somewhere in Boston.  I'm half hoping that at least one of the postcards was addressed wrong and that it got returned to sendered to Miss Kaitlyn Broody, whoever she is.  Whoops!

Schmetz Needles are the shmetz if you're sewing leather.  Size 18.  LL.  Like a hot knife through buttah.  Or at least not super frustrating and hair-pulling-out and have-to-re-sew-and-now-I-hate-everything.  For me, those were the Organ needles.  Shmetz is the shmetz, that's all you have to know.  There are no competitors.

I am a hippie.  Apparently Handsome's shift buddies are taking bets as to when I'll stop shaving, since I've so clearly gone off of the deep end.  I would like to say that I've gotten verbal agreement from more than one friend that if I stop wearing a bra, they will stage an intervention for me, because for me to do that, well, I've done lost my everloving mind.

Girlscout cookie names are regional.  Who knew!?!  For example (i.e.- the only example that I know of), please look at the following cookie and tell me what you would identify it as:

Your answer?  Its a Samoa if you grew up in the north, and a Caramel Delite if you ate these suckers in the south. BECAUSE (wait for your mind to be blown) there are two bakeries that are licensed to make GS cookies, and they each call the cookies by a different name. Turns out, there's a whole bunch of information available about them, which you can read here and then write about in 30 days for "What I learned in March" if you so desire.

Babies are easy to pack for if you forget all of their things.  Followed quickly by learning that babies don't need all of their things, but little-but-not-dresser-drawer-little babies do sorta kinda need a place to sleep that they can't crawl out of and hypothetically hit their heads on the underside of the bed at 5:30 in the ayem because they've sleep-crawled halfway under a Queen.  Hypothetically.

I'm sure I learned other things.  I hope.  I think I might actually keep a running list, so that I can have better information to share with you.  Because I know you're concerned that my mind is full of leather and ruffles and pictures of RG and not much else.  And that's valid.  So to prove to myself and you, I'm going to keep better records.  Unless, of course, at the end of the month, I find my list contains nothing but those topics, in which case I'm going to fudge it.  Because I do what I want.

<3 M.

Risky Business :: #RiskRejection

So I have a bloggy friend.  One that I've actually taken the steps to meet in real life (IRL, in case you were wondering what that acronym stood for).  And she's fabulous.  The kind of friend who you instantly feel at home with, even if, hypothetically, you've just driven 3 hours with the top off of your Jeep in order to meet for the first time ever.  The kind of friend where, when you end up staying long past everyone else has gone home, just keeps chatting with you and it doesn't even feel weird.  Amy, she's my jam.

So Amy hit me up via email last week (and yes, I've been told that once I turn 30, I'm going to have to stop saying things like "hit me up" and "amazeballs" and "totes ridic") and said "hey, want to get rejected?  It'll quite possibly be demoralizing and definitely be scary."

She's compelling, that Amy.  So I said "Count me in!"

Here's the issue - rejection, or the fear of it, quite often keeps people from doing things.  Sometimes, the things that we're kept from doing coulda, woulda, been awesome.  We let fear hold us back from being movers and shakers and muffins-for-neighbors bakers.  I've said it before, and I'll say it again (mostly because I have to hear things 109 times before they sink in), allowing yourself (myself) to be ruled by unnamed fear is stupid and lousy and not what God wants for you.  

In order to fight that fear of rejection, Amy watched some video by some guy (it was much more legit than I'm making it seem, I promise) (also - I'm going to have to stop saying "legit" too, apparently), and he postured that in order not to be ruled by the fear of rejection, we ought to numb ourselves to it, so that the fear has no power over our decisions or actions.  So a group of us banded together in order to get rejected.

Doesn't that sound like a party you want to join?  The hashtag is #RiskRejection, in case you really do!

Some of the people I'm joining up with are taking risks that seem big and really really risky and (honestly) some seem more important than mine.  But it doesn't matter.  What matters is answering with a "yes" whenever God says to do something, whenever your heart yearns for something that you aren't sure you'll be able to do, whenever you just can't shake the itch that "someone" really ought to be doing that, and that you'd love to but you're sure someone else should...

My risks seem.. small.  They do.  They're not huge, and they likely won't alter my entire life in one fell swoop.  But I'm going to take them all the same.  I'm going to put myself out there, and I will very assuredly get rejected.  I know I will, really.  But I'll take my lumps and try again, because I want to be held back no longer.  And if I can build up this immunity to fear, perhaps someday I'll see a big risk and I'll just up and take it.

My risky business:

• I'm submitting 3 papers for publication in peer-reviewed journals.  By May.  This is something I ought to do if I want to graduate with my PhD.  I know this isn't something a lot of people talk about, so here's a breakdown of how it goes.
• You write the best paper you can, taking care to dot your i's and cross your t's and cite all of the proper people, but not too many because you have to produce something dazzling from your own brain.
• You submit your precious writing to the best journal in the appropriate area.
• You get rejected.  Sometimes with suggestions for improvement.  Sometimes with ridicule.
• You follow the suggestions, make changes, and re-submit.
• You get rejected again.
• You choose a slightly less prestigious journal, and submit.
• You get rejected again.
• Repeat.
• If you're lucky, eventually the rejection process stops and you get accepted somewhere.
• I'm going to do this 3 times in 5 months.  Because I'll be better for it, even if some of the "suggestions" might be scathing.
• I'm going to keep saying "yes" when God says "hey, why don't you..."
• Like last week when God said "Hey, why don't you contact that missionary you follow and offer to help them out in some way." and I did and I've never heard back... [crickets] sound so much like rejection.
• Crowdfunding.  That's right.  I've got a crowdfunding website live, and it's really out there, asking strangers for money.  Weird, right?  And also - If I don't meet my goal, I'll feel dumb.  And foolish.  And rejected.  BUT.  But.  I'm gonna do it.  So if you've stuck with me this long, you're seeing my real risk, the one that makes me nervous and sweaty-palmed and kind of want to say "how about I just don't include this bullet and I write my nice safe post about rejection" and then I see the irony in that for this post, so here we gooo!!

Join me here!
Or check out Nicole's blog here!

I've followed Nicole's blog for a few years, I think.  And she's fabulous.  She's witty and real and encouraging.  She's also raising a dashing little man who is 1 month younger than RG, and I'm eventually going to broach the subject of an arranged marriage, but that is neither here nor there.  The thing is this: Nicole has had some serious trouble with technology, and she's been burned (figuratively) by 2 laptops in the past 30 days.  She's out of luck in that department.  So she's decided to take a break from blogging.  Which brings me to the crowdfunding website.  I'd like to bless Nicole with a new laptop so that she can (1) keep encouraging women and sharing her words, (2) continue to grow her online business so she can continue to stay home with her boy, and (3) feel incredibly special.  It's a secret, right now, which isn't hard to keep since she's got limited access to blogs and things (see: broken laptop).

So that's my real risk.  I'm trying to do this thing.  And I feel about 1087% sure it won't work.  But I want it to, so I'm trying.  And now I'm sharing.  BOOM.  

If you're interested in helping Nicole out, the website is here.  And I'm going to share it on my facebook page, too.  But really, I'm just glad that you've stuck with me to the end of what seems to me to be a VERY long and winding post.  Thanks for hearing me.  Are you feeling risky?  Want to get rejected?  Link up with Amy, too!  There's still time!

<3 M.

What I've Learned in November

November is done.  Kaput.  I mean, there is one teensy little day left, and its kind of a big deal, seeing as it is the birthday of a very dear friend, but honestly, I'm not planning on learning anything tomorrow, and so I feel like I can go ahead and compile my list now.  Here's what I've learned:

1.  Babies don't speak English.  No seriously, think about this with me.  Its not just that they can't speak, or that they can't move independently or that they're quiet by nature.  No.  They seriously have no idea what is going on.  This was an epiphany for me.  When I say "No, Riley, don't throw your food, eat it" and she smiles at me, she's not being diabolical.  She has no idea what I just said. I could have said "J'ai perdu mon vache sur la montagne" and it would have meant about the same to her.  I'm still wrapping my head around all of the ramifications of this one.  That blank stare she gives me?  Suddenly appropriate.

2. Boiling water to make smells (this post might make more sense) is both less and more dangerous than lighting a candle.  I'm a big candle fan, myself, but the whole "put some fancy pants stuff in a pot and boil it" was appealing to me.  Until I let the water boil down.  Word of caution - don't do that.

3. I can prepare an entire Thanksgiving Feast by myself.  I'd also prefer to not do it again, at least not by myself, and not before March sometime.  Having someone there with you to do the prep work is at least half of the fun, and I'm definitely getting some sous chefs for next year!

4. Every fight doesn't have to be resolved.  Usually, when Handsome & I have a tiff, it is because I have a lot of feelings going haywire, and I need to vent my feelings.  Usually that isn't enough for me, and I prod him and poke him until he gives me some response back, any response.  I tried a few new tactics last week, and I was able to voice my feelings, (mostly) respectfully, and then be done with it.  We haven't mentioned it since.  I'm not sure if it will come up.  I really don't even know what sort of glue is holding this truce together, but I'll take it.  We have peace and kindness, and it is somehow working.

5. Aldi's roses bloom wildly.  Very impressed, Aldi.

6.  Now I know why I keep the "no Christmas music until after Thanksgiving" rule.  I threw it out the window this year, and unfortunately, I threw the "get excited and watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade" tradition out with it.  It wasn't so crucial to hear my first Christmas music come from the television, since I'd already been blasting it from the speakers of my car.  Never again.

Hopefully I've learned more than this, but this is all I've got today.  It is time to usher in the season of advent. A season of expectant waiting and celebration.  I'm hoping to intentionally focus on God's gift to mankind, and our gifts to others, during these next 4 weeks.  I'm also hoping to polish off the remaining Thanksgiving leftovers in the same period of time.

Peace & love, my friends.  Let the Christmas season begin!

<3 M.

Sunday Confessions

So that Alyx girl that I've told you about?  Well, she does this little link-up every Sunday, and sometimes I forget about it.  I don't forget about her, no no no.  But I forget that she's created a space to confess all that weighs heavy on a person's soul.  Lucky for me (and you, as well), I remembered today.  And trust me, I've got a lot to get off of my chest.

1.  I've been shouting a lot this evening.  Scared my dog.  

2.  I'm also not looking (figuratively speaking)  favorably upon Baby Magnum (as we've taken to calling this little parasite I'm growing) right now.  Mostly, because Baby wants me to go to sleep, and I say "No!"

3.  Both 1 & 2 are due to one thing: I've got a fever, and the only solution is MORE PITTSBURGH STEELERS FOOTBALL!

4.  I'm considering eating some dessert, despite the fact that I had a half-sleeve of chips ahoy as my mid-afternoon snack.

5.  I didn't share.  I saw something amazing, and I didn't share it with you.  I'm sorry.  Oh, and what I saw?  A camel.  Lying down beside the road.  In rural SC.