Friday, December 30, 2011

my most recent obsession.

picture from my instagram here.

acai bowls
they are so delicious. healthy. and refreshing.
and they're real simple.
(and for those of you that know me in the kitchen--i need simple)

just blend frozen strawberries and acai juice
add sliced banana
sprinkle with granola and drizzle with honey

straight from the land of hawaii
thanks to my sis-sis neesh

also, i did a little guest post on a friend's blog today.
check it out here.

oh and you should follow me on twitter.
i'm really into it these days.

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

winter glam.

so, i styled for a photoshoot earlier this month.
and i'm kind of in love with the way it turned out.

i know, right?
angela is too pretty for words.

see more of the shoot on the lovely chantel's blog.

and if you're in need of any wedding/lifestyle photography...
she's your gal.

Monday, December 26, 2011

diet ibc and a happy new year.

the other day. i almost bought diet ibc rootbeer.

yeah, it's true.

diet ibc.

is that some sort of all-time-low?

i mean, as if wandering around walmart, picking up six-packs of an alcohol-look-alike-not-even-moderately-caffeinated soda isn't bad enough.

and then to tag the 'diet' label onto it.

eh-he-hem. man, i am weird.

i made it 3/4 of the way up to the cashier before realizing that i had no idea what the hell i was doing.

and then found myself standing--somewhat lost--in the produce section, laughing at the bizarre-pathetic nature of what i was experiencing. with that--i immediately set the six-pack down and left to pay for the mascara i initially went in for.

eight dollars.

eight dollars for a tube of brown-black goop that i sweep onto my eyelashes on a daily basis. eight dollars for a product that makes my eyes 'pop out'. eight dollars to 12-long-lasting-hours of distraction from the dark circles beneath my blood shot eyes (i currently have a eye-straining-cold)

eight dollars--that somewhere along the line of growing up as a female, enduring through puberty and staying afloat amidst the ninth grade politics--that i choose to spend on a monthly basis. to be the kind-of-beautiful i should be.

no--i'm not a feminist. i love my make-up and hair products. i enjoy dressing up and strutting some serious game in my most flirtatious heels.

i mean, who doesn't?

instagram, ladies. instagram.

but i do at times think about these kind of things while standing in line at the community walmart, dropping a solid eight dollars on a 4 1/2 inch long tube of chemicals. chemicals that the world has said will make me sexxxxxxy.

perhaps, perhaps i should have stuck with the ibc.

it's these moments. moments standing in the walmart line with the slightly-emo-eighteen-year-old-chica at the register...wearing a stained t-shirt with a neckline that's dropped about two inches lower that i would have preferred--that i start thinking about things like that charming couple that's been on my mind.

the one that things seem to have worked out well for. the one's living the coveted and 'blog-worthy' life ('blog-worthy' is new lingo for 'picture perfect' fyi).

a life that is--by-all-appearances--m.a.g.i.c.a.l.

sometimes this very thought haunts and teases at me. but only because it's something that i don't understand. i start thinking about my experiences. experiences where i was involved and experiences when i was a by-stander.

watching the happy couple over skype. listening to the woe's of the other in the kitchen.

wondering how some people get it right. and others just don't.

contemplating how i spent so long believing in one thing. and then realizing that it wasn't the reality i thought it was.

and yes. all the while i'm still standing in the walmart line. no, apparently miss-emo-low-shirt is not the quickest cashier in the book.

but i don't mind. i've really got nowhere to be.

why not here?

and honestly, i don't mind the time to just stand and wait. and think. it's been an non-stop couple of weeks. filled with all sorts of ups and downs.

i've heard of more people getting divorced than i even like to mention. and with each and every tale of 'so-&-so" getting divorced because of "x and x" reason, i can feel my heart drop into my gut just a little bit more. icky.

i don't care for it.

and then, on the other-happy-holiday-merry-christmas-grand-ol'-new-year side of things. we've got more engagements popping up on facebook and being announced via text and posted on instagram than i can even keep track of.

coincidence? no, not in my opinion.

it's just that time of the year.

even more than valentines day (most ridiculous holiday in the history/invention of holidays), more than the "june bride" season (running from may to mid-july) and more than the early 'summer-fun-has-come-to-an-end-time-to-get-serious-september' (when people start realizing that bikinis and tans are 'fun and all' but not really the recipe for a satisfying future)...

this holiday season is the time of the year when people want to hope in something.

and not just anything.

they want to believe. not only in the magic of christmas and the fresh start of a new year, but in themselves and in their choices.

it's something in the air.

something that makes people long for love. hope for progression. and take steps towards...whatever.

whether that means the tragic realization that it's time to separate ways with one you have loved. or the beautiful uniting of something new.


i picture the intense glow of a rockstar-size-diamond upon that young girl's finger. and i find myself cynically wondering how 'real' this one may be. and how long it may/may not last.

that couple. the one that's known each other less than a year. the things they don't know. the things they will have to work through. the things that scare me...that i try not to think about...


i guess this is where i just may not understand. my inbred logic from my father and learned argumentative ways from boyfriends past often keep me from seeing beyond what the eyes can see. seeing into the sincerity of a heart and of the meaning behind such a commitment.

and i realize. i haven't given credit where credit is due.

because there are things that they do know.

they know that they are in love. they know that the symbolism behind that stunning ring gives them something to hope for. and truly something to believe in.

and nope, there is nothing wrong with that.

so--for those of you ready to embrace this next year--in desperate need of a new start. hoping that you can let go of whatever it is--people or experiences--that may be keeping you back.

my prayer for you is that you will find yourselves again. and that you will clearly understand and support the choices you have made and will make in the future.

i know how it feels. and it sucks. bad.

letting go of someone or something that you've loved is probably one of the most intense forms of torture upon this earth.

you try so hard to remind yourself of the bad. and all you really want to remember is the good.

but please.

you know you need to let go. so please. let it go. let it go kristen.

cling to what is real. and forget about what is not.

and to those of you--also full of hope--committing, taking steps forward, making changes for this upcoming year.

my prayer for you is that you will embrace the changes that you have encouraged. and move forward with every ounce of passion in your beautiful little self.

keep it alive. keep reality in perspective. and go at it with everything you've got.

everything you've got kristen.

'is this all?' my-chesty-emo-friend asked me as she swiped the mascara barcode on the scanner between us.

yeah, i began to respond as i opened my wallet to pull out my debit card...

and then stopped and looked up.

the slight scowl on her face was enough to scare off any innocent passer-by. her size was slightly intimidating...being that she could easily beat the shiz out of me.

but truth-be-told, her pale skin was close to flawless. her black hair hung straight and gave off extra luster. and the depth behind her insanely green eyes was almost shocking.

truly beautiful.

i'm sure she had a story. i'm sure there was a reason she didn't feel like smiling at that moment. and that was okay. thank heavens darling, it's that time of year.

a fresh start. for you. for me. for everyone.

i smiled. and asked.

have you ever had diet ibc?

Sunday, December 11, 2011

needing a little pick-me-up.

hold your head high gorgeous.
people would kill to see you fall.

monday, bring it on.

oh, and listen to this song. and enjoy.

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

past due.

so i meant to post these hawaii trip pics back in november.
and it simply never happened.


and for those of you who are new to my blog...
this picture is somewhat significant in my life.
up until this trip,
stand-up paddle boarding had been a fantasy-bucket-list item of mine.
this was honestly one of the most amazing vacations of my life.
so happy i was able to see my rad-little-hippie-of-a-sister.
and spend time with my family and friends.

so much love goin' round this place.

p.s. again, i just barely added a 'join this site' button on the right side column.
if you want an easier way to follow the blog, just click on that.

Friday, December 2, 2011

awww december. my ol' friend.

this month gives me goosebumps.


it's in the air. it's down the streets. it's practically humming christmas tunes through the winds (which are ridiculously strong right now--anyone living in the western united states knows what i'm talking about)

you see, i'm not one for expectations. in fact, i despise them. unrealistic attitudes and foresight's all-too-often lead to someone being let down or hurt. or disappointed.

i avoid run-in's with mr. disappointment at all costs.

yeah yeah. don't judge me. i know there is about a million and one sayings out there going on about not being afraid to fail. to take a big leap...hoping to fly. and then you'll end up inventing a light bulb or becoming the next steve jobs or something.

and those are great. honestly, they are.

but i try to balance those out with my realist philosophies that life is the way it is. we know from experience that if we decide we're going to loose twenty pounds in one week and be a millionaire by next tuesday...we're probably going to fall short.

i know right, sucky realism.

because when it comes down to it, i could all-together stop eating from here on out. and i still wouldn't loose twenty pounds by next friday. and i could totally work my a** off and enter my name into every cash prize drawing in the western united states...and i think we all know i'm not going to be a millionaire by tuesday.

i'm sorry. this is probably like being told there is no santa clause for all of you "the secret" believers out there. and--hey--maybe i'm wrong.

it's just the ridiculous expectation thing that really gets me.

the exact reason why i choose to not celebrate valentines day.

don't get me wrong--i'm as hopelessly romantic as the next girl down the line--but the celebrating of sugar-candied-truffle-box-of-high-expectations-and-unresolved-relationship-insecurities-holiday is just not my thing.

it makes me feel ridiculously uncomfortable just thinking about it. bleeeeh.

being required to show someone, through some grand gesture--that outdoes all the other 'grand gestures'--on the oh-so-coveted february 14th, that you really, truly, deeply, madly love them.


why not just do something special for that someone on a random tuesday or wednedsday or friday? or delight her with a clean house when she arrives home from a long day? or schedule a saturday out for him golfing with his buddies while you watch the kids?

that's the stuff that i consider 'not-eeeeeky'.

the cheeseball-i'm-only-gonna-do-this-once-a-year-so-eat-it-up-and-swallow-it-down-with-a-crystal-glass-of-high-expectations thing.

yeah. i opt out of that one.

yeah yeah, so i have issues with setting the bar too high. but it's true. it's easier in many situations (not all but many) to just lower your expectations and find yourself pleased later on.

that's why i hesitate in saying this...but something about december always leaves me expecting something magical (insert twinkling noises)

kinda like this picture.

and no--not necessarily love related.

it doesn't really have to pertain to any certain genre. the only category that it has to fit into is a moment of 'magical'.

whether it's being swept down a curb in a darling dress coat and kitten heels by the hunky-man-of-your-dreams. or watching it softly snow while you sit bundled up with some steamy raspberry hot cocoa in a perfect little mug.

or watching that beautiful new baby boy slowly grow into his own features. week by week. looking more and more like his parents everyday.

maybe it's a moment with old friends visiting. or a brief couple of seconds where that stranger opens the door for you and exclaims--with so much joy it almost rings like a holiday melody--'merry christmas!'

perhaps it's feeling some life run through your veins. maybe falling in love. or a moment of adrenaline as you think of all the possibilities to be found in the upcoming year.

the thought of a second chance.

the inclination to make something right. the desire to serve others around you. the passion that this time of year illuminates within each and every one of us.

mmmmgh, yeah.

magic, i tell ya.


so with every high expectation i've ever had. with every broken bar of what "i thought" something was going to be. and with every fear i have of wanting something to be more than it was destined to amount to.

to this december, i say...

may you be the most inspiring and magical december yet.


p.s. i just added a 'join this site' button on the right column. i decided to make it slightly easier to follow my blog. ha ha. #behindiknow

Thursday, November 24, 2011

just celebrating our heritage...that's all.

happy thanksgiving.

i'm overwhelmed with how much i have to be grateful for.
seriously. i'm so undeserving...

and i'm so thankful for all of you.
thank you for reading.

oh right, and the warwick family recently discovered that one of our great great aunts...
(or something like that)
was kidnapped by navajo indians way back in the day,
but ended up marrying the chief and were very happy together.
(cute story, right?)

and ever since then...we've felt a sense of belonging
father's side: hard-core puritan pilgrims.
mom's side: mormon pioneers with a married-in native american heritage.
yup, it's the blood in our veins.

so, we built a tepee.

happy turkey day loves.

Friday, November 18, 2011

maybe it's time.

did you ever love someone so much that you can't explain?
when you're with them,
it's like thunder keeps rolling through your brain...
you can feel it in the depth of your soul.
but you still can't bring yourself to say it...

maybe it's time.

been obsessing over this all week.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

sometimes i can't sleep. i lay here.
and i think.

i recently read somewhere,
that if your dreams don't scare you. they aren't big enough.

if that's true. then i think i'm good.
because my dreams scare the hell out of me.

Saturday, November 5, 2011

hello. my name is kristen. and i'm a theatrophobic.

it seems odd, i know.

but in my twenty-third year of life i seem to have developed a phobia.

and no. not a phobia like normal people. you know, of heights or giant spiders. or of the color red (yeah, real thing. ereuthophobia. and no, that really isn't 'normal' but still...)

nothing ordinary for me.

instead, i have developed a fear of movie theaters. i know, right?

you think i am joking.

but wait.

let me go back.

back to the first time my theatrophobia kicked in. it was late july/early august of this year. i was sitting in the cinemark orem movie theater. seeing rise of the planet of the apes (which i don't highly recommend. see it, don't see. i don't think it will really affect your life either way--other than a complete loss of two valuable hours. but whatev.)

everything started normal.

theater was packed--sold out. probably opening weekend or something.

previews came and went. and the apes appeared (highly educational evening--because i also learned that apes make me super uncomfortable) and i started thinking, "sooooo....i am really going to spend the next two hours watching this odd looking man-monkey grow up and become the leader of an ape revolution?"

james franco, you sexy idiot.

and then the moment hit me.

i gasped for breath.

and not at franco's good looks or the fact that the ape could-in-fact speak. (super believable--by the way). but at absolutely nothing at all. yes, i was struggling for air...for no reason that i could think of.

after a moment of collecting myself. refusing to panic. i took a few deep breaths and relaxed back into my seat.

odd, i thought to myself.

i've never been claustrophobic. i don't smoke. and i've never once used an inhaler.

oh well--i figured. a little glitch in the system.

a few minutes passed. and suddenly another urge to gasp for air.

what on earth? i could not figure out what was going on.

the rest of the movie went on this way--only it became fairly constant. rather than having a few minutes of normal breathing, i was just flat out struggling. for the first time in my life, getting air in and out of my lungs was a mental chore. and a focus of survival (okay, slightly dramatic. but it was an intense moment of my life)

we left the theater and went on with evening (yes, this was a date. thank heavens i didn't collapse in the movie theater, right?)

some yogurt and a game or two later and i realized that i had completely forgotten about my struggle for oxygen during planet of the apes. then again, maybe it was caesar the ape i was truly trying to forget about.

i shrugged it off. convincing myself it was a once-ever type thing.

a week or two passed. and an opportunity for another movie came around. and i went--not even remembering the experience i had last time around.

and sure enough. it was in fact--not the apes or james franco's charm that left my body unable to inhale and exhale.

this happened again.

and again.

fine. simply fine. previews come and previews go. movies begin. and my theatrophobia kicks right on in.

it has reached a point now where i pretty much avoid theaters all together. and if i can't, i take a bottle of water, an inhaler, a brown paper bag, and a bag of swedish fish.

okay, not really.

but i do take swedish fish. cause they are my fave-fave.

and then...cross my fingers and hope for the best. my theatrophobia will dictate the rest. and unfortunately, it doesn't look like we will be curing this problem anytime soon. according to my research, theatrophobia is often caused by traumatic experiences in your early childhood.


i'm wondering if my near-death collision with the gingerbread-man during my opening performance as a taffy in the california nutcracker had anything to do with this....packed theater, ruffles itching at my neck, plastic ginger bread swarming around, blinding lights...a boom...and then darkness.

dark times, indeed.

and according to google, treatments for a phobia like mine would include counseling, hypnotherapy, psychotherapy and neuro-linguistic programming.

and being that i don't really believe in counseling, refuse to take part of any sort of hypnosis, would rather not have some stranger pry into my psyche and have no idea what the h. neuro-linguistic programming is...

i think it's here to stay.

yes. my name is kristen. i am twenty-three years old. and i am a theatrophobic.

and folks, caesar is home.

and lastly, i wanted to share this incredibly flattering and so-well-written blog post from a face with a name.

Thursday, November 3, 2011

you say you want a revolution.

lately i have been contemplating a heavy amount on what defines greatness.

you see, i am passionate person.

the kind of person that finds happiness in a hard days work. especially when that work is channeled towards something i can really believe in. something i can grab up and run with. full force.

i have been surrounded my whole life by driven individuals that have consistently worked their a’s off--in every aspect of life. wanting to make a change. hoping to leave some sort of mark. something to leave behind. something for this world to remember.

it was born a part of me. and whatever wasn’t--was then tattooed to my wrist to never escape my main focus (metaphorically. of course. but if i did have a tattoo--it would be on my wrist. yes, i have it planned out for that day when i am forced to stain my skin with permanent ink)

why? for starters, i have a father that has never rested a day in his life. almost to a point of obsession.

to an excess amount where you just want to yell at him and tell him to sit down. just sit for two full seconds.

one-mississippi. two-miss-iss-ippi.

nope, he won't last.

and in addition to that madness, i have a mother that never stops thinking of others. their needs. and how she can further serve them.

a true ray of sunshine upon this earth.

yes, she is.

work came before play. (which--let me tell you--seriously blew when it came to disney’s ‘one saturday morning’. i mean, we had from seven until ten to enjoy our one weekly block of pretend ‘cable’--my parents weren’t huge tv people back then...we had a grand total of about ten and a half channels--and unless we got up at six a.m. to complete the chores by seven or eight, we didn’t stand a fighting chance of catching those chip and dale rescue rangers.)

but that has been my life.

and truly, i got over the cartoon thing.

taught by the best of the best. i know what it is to work hard.

and as much as i believe in it, i am not naive to the fact that a strong work ethic doesn't always cut it. sure, it does a hell of a lot. and of course--it is the first key ingredient to getting somewhere in this heavily panting, exasperated world.

ravenous for talent.

drooling over the desire of the coveted american dream.

and obviously, those who work their butts off are already off to a much better start than those who can't seem to put two and two together.

work is key.

absolutely vital but not everything. i wish it was, but the fact of the matter is--i've seen hard work crash and burn. and i've seen it fail and fail hard.

so, what it is it?

what is the secret kick-punch-duo that leads to success? what is the truth that only a great few ever truly understand?

how can greatness be achieved?

much of my reading over the last couple of weeks has consisted of articles related to steve jobs. to his life. tributes to his death. overviews of him as a business man. praises to him as a father.

and to the irreplaceable, inescapable mark that he has left upon his departure from the world.

one article--in particular--quickly caught and kept my attention.

this new york times author focused on what exactly made jobs different from the other successes of his time.

speaking of how he wasn't 'conventionally smart' but was in-fact a genius. (see full article here)

describing that "his imaginative leaps were instinctive, unexpected, and at times magical. they were sparked by intuition, not analytic rigor."

i like that. yeah?

imaginative. intuitive. and magical.

three words that catch my attention with their very existence.

are these the brilliant, wise-beyond-their-years, kick-a factors that separated jobs from other brilliance of this time?

i must know.

i mean, is there really anyone out there that is not intrigued by the life and story of our friend mr. jobs? is there anyone out there that can sit back at the mention of his name and callously disregard the topic with a 'meh'?

if such an individual exists--i really have nothing to say to you.

for the rest of us, let’s really think about this.

the author of this article describes this unique style as an, “ability to apply creativity and aesthetic sensibilities to a challenge.”

when reading this, i immediately thought of another inspiration of mine. another change that the world didn’t see coming and couldn’t get enough of.

the beatles.

a 1960’s band with a hell of a lot of heart. consisting of four extremely talented musicians. who--whether they initially intended to or not--ended up changing the world.


by breaking down barriers and restrictions of recording labels and artist protocol. finding freedom in music. in rock n’ roll. that had never before been experienced. changing the face of pop culture. and therefore, changing the face of society as a whole.

revolutionary. yes, revolutionary would be an adequate word.

their recordings, described by a reporter for ‘the telegraph’ as “the holy grail, the very font of pop culture, when four individuals experienced a kind of collective accelerated musical growth that untapped all the latent potential of pop music...a voyage of wild discovery into melody, harmony, lyricism, rythm, and production...”

agreed. 100%.

i grew up listening to the beatles. they’re my go-to every time i have a bad day. my song that i can always sing along to. my comfort when i just need something familiar, something that feels like home (that--and entire full house gang of course.)

they’re the foundation of music as many of our generation know it.

so where is the similarity here? where are the common themes? where exactly was that button of ‘greatness’ pushed?

let me push it. pleassssse.

here's how i see it. see, i know music. i know musicians. not one personally but i’ve known and dated many of them--probably too many. trust me.

i know grunge. i know classic rock. country. pop. indie. whatever, you name it. and i know that the beatles are not necessarily looked at as some perfectly talented, flawless group that could not be surpassed.

and i agree. there are obviously people out there who--by all technical reasoning--would have been deemed better musicians.

john and paul weren’t necessarily the best songwriters of all time. no, there is really no way to measure that (though i would argue that they just may have been).

and georgey-boy's technical proficiency was probably not perfect.

but that’s just it. because it’s not about being that one perfectly trained mind. it’s not just about being the guy that can sit down at the guitar and play anything under the crazy blue sky. that's fun and all. but isn't going to make the cut between good and great.

so what is missing? what is it that jobs and the beatles both had?

my answer: magic.

the magic created by all that heart and all that imagination.

every ounce of soul that went into each individual note they played. and each brilliant stroke of creativity that went into forming the number one brand in the world.

both connecting with their audiences in revolutionary ways. both--not letting themselves fear failure.

that's where the magic is found.

technically. sure. my boy george could have been beat out by some other guitarist. mathematically, sure bill gates could probably crunch out some high profile numbers at a more rapid rate than jobs ever could.

but emotionally. not a chance.

that deadly mix of talent and heart. a little bit of luck. an undeniable magic. and here we are today. both--still very much alive in all of our hearts.

still influencing the world and its progression.

jobs believed in the power of intuition. the need for imagination, and the ability think creatively.

and he went with it.

trusting in his senses. having confidence in his ideas--even if they had yet to make complete sense. eventually, creating a world that we would have never understood ten years ago.

so, i now ask you again. what defines greatness?

a little bit of magic. some good ol’ fashion intuition. and a great deal of creativity.


thank you mr. jobs. and thank you beatles for this song.

oh, and if you’d like a little preview into another up-and-coming brilliance of our time. click here to check out garrett gee.

trust me. it’s impressive.

Thursday, October 27, 2011

go cardinals.

well, i guess it's time.

time to force out some emotion and beat this b. of a writers' block.

really friends, it's been the worst ever. it's lingered like a bad stench. taunted and teased like that pudgy-almost-albino-kid in my fourth grade class. stuck around like a nasty little sickness.

ew. woof.

kind of like that time i got the bird flu. yes, nasty.

like crawling across the bathroom floor, puking into the toilet every fifteen minutes. spending three days living on my disgusting, shady-brown-polyester-blend-sofa in my provo apartment.

can you say i-f-f-y? (i mean honestly, who even knows what has gone down on p-town apartment seating).

watching he's just not that into you over twelve times just because you don't have cable and can't muster up the strength to make it to the redbox.

finding yourself thinking about how much you really do hate scarlett johansson.

come on boys. really?

she's just a little too slutty for my good taste.

yes, this writers' block truly tried to get the best of me. but don't worry, because i'm beating it down with a metaphorical baseball bat as we speak (and i'm currently watching the cardinals vs. rangers that was the first metaphorical object that came to mind.)

honestly, this is the first time ever in the history of my life that i have been interested in the world series.

i grew up a padres fan. san diego represent.

but never really cared.

just like their hat really. padres and mariners. both have that worn navy blue look going on. the sexiest hats of all the hats.

and yet, here i am. loving this baseball game. eating it up. with lines from 'it takes two' running through my head.

m.k. and a. at their finest.
i know, i know. it's gotta' be that can't eat, can't-sleep, reach-for-the-stars, over-the-fence, world series kinda stuff....right?
always liked that saying.

kinda charming in its own right. and not only because it was said by my two favorite-full-house-peeps. other than uncle-j-sexy. of course.

but also because it implies that love should be something whimsical. something that’s once in a life-time. something that will make you stand up and scream like a winning shot. or the much needed home run.

and though i really only agree with it sixty-percent of the time...

not because i am above believing that things like love and romance can be that 'world series' kind-of-mind-blowing, but simply because every-now-and-then i find myself doubting that a harsh world like ours can harvest such whimsicality.

but i do believe. and just like most of humanity, it is what i want.

that can’t-eat, can’t-sleep kinda love.

that sweaty-mess-want-to-impress-kind-of romance. so many of us, on our knees, asking god for a little bit of that magic. a little bit of that knowing you never want to be separated from that person. forever and onward.

nice, eh?

kind of makes me wish i could write songs or something. too bad my extent of song writing goes back to my fourth grade band 'sae girl'.

you heard me.

'sae girl'. like say girl. but 'sae girl' (we just wanted to be different. don't judge.)

we sang acoustically. with optional banging on trash cans, plucking at the violin, and a possible tambourine.

the critics called us 'a colorful blend of the dixie chic's southern hospitality and the raw sexual appeal of the spice girls topped off with the kick-a rhyming abilities of shania twain'.

i know, right.

we're legend around boise, id.

shame that had to die. really.

that. and my life-long dream of dating jonathan taylor thomas. both sad dreams to let go of.

dreams that were eventually replaced by new dreams.

and then once those died, replaced by even newer dreams. and i must say, after twenty three years of dreaming up my future and deciding the woman that i am going to be...

i can honestly look at my life right now. and smile.

really, truly smile.

and as long as i look past the fact that i have a basket of laundry waiting to do and a coffee table covered in books that i have no room for...and a faux hard wood floor that seriously needs a good scrub down.

i'm gonna keep smiling.

because i'm so undeserving of how ridiculously blessed i am.

and that--right there--is a reason to stand-up and cheer.

oh yeah, and the fact that the cardinals just won the world series :).

Friday, October 14, 2011

i'm going away for a week.

....time to find ourselves again.

Saturday, October 8, 2011

the birthday wishlist.

okay, so. my birthday is next week.
yes sir.
another year older and wiser--at least we hope.
and everyone has been kindly and thoughtfully inquiring as to what i would like...
sweethearts. yes, sweethearts you are.
but sadly, i haven't really had any answer for them.
so. i have created this small-little-list of birthday wishes to share.

for starters, the fireplace (pictured above) and insane artwork
would make me one happy, happy girl.
no gift receipt needed. guaranteed i won't be returning that dreamboat.

and then there is this living space.
this artwork. the long window sweet. retro furnishings
and sassy rug.

i'd unwrap this in a heartbeat.

next up on the birthday wishlist.
the kitchen of my dreams.
and honestly, i don't have enough charming words in my vocabulary to do this space justice.

if this doesn't come around for my birthday
....i may just have to ask santa.

still need more ideas?
okay, how about the bedroom that pwns all other bedrooms?
come to keen. please.
this combo of texture, patterns, color and reclaimed
wood kinda makes me want to run around in circles giggling.

no, not kidding.

and if you're not liking any of those ideas.
how about this darling chalkboard-wall bedroom for my future son...
perfect, eh?
i think so too.

and for those of you not up for the extremely detailed and expensive
home decor gift options....

i'll take a pair of these fabulous blur zipper ankle boots.
definitely wouldn't throw these beauties out on a cold night.

and of course, we could just go for this whole outfit.
that i am very much in love with.
i know, right?

okay, and for those of you who are not in the market to buy me
expensive furnishings or five hundred dollar shoes....

show up to my door with a kneaders chocolate chip cookie.
yup, it does the trick.


Thursday, September 29, 2011

so very, very right.

okay, so.

it is now late september.

and i am writing to you from the lawn chair in my backyard. shorts, tank top, tanning lotion and all.

it’s eighty-eight degrees out.

and yes, it is fall.

does anyone else see anything wrong with this picture? i mean, yes--i am out here. shamelessly soaking up some rays. attempting to salvage any remaining glimmer of my rapidly depleting tan.

but still.

setting that aside, i am willing to admit that it is not right.

my sweaters are feeling neglected. and bored. just hanging there on my portable clothing rack.

and my tall leather boots are seriously suffering in their dark corner of my stairwell closet.
it is almost as if my breezy summer wardrobe is mocking them. taunting with the fact that they are the pieces that are still being pulled out and worn...even though technically it is no longer their turn.

but it is not my fault.
and it is wrong.


you know what else is wrong?

coming home to find your family dog has passed on.


correction. you know what else is wrong? coming home to a longtime family dog that is now dead and watching your little brother tear up as the news is broken to him...

hold on. one more time.

you know what is wrong? coming home to a dead family dog, and listening to your bad-a-tough-football-playing-never-shed-a-tear-little-brother and your father--who you have seen tear up maybe a total of four times in your entire twenty four years--both earnestly cry over your lost family pet of thirteen years.

and within moments. you find yourself in tears.

not sure if you are breaking down in mourning for the death of your dog or if it is a side affect the overwhelming sadness of seeing both your brother and dad cry.

wrong. so wrong.

and you know what else?
that's wrong....?

how bad things happen to really, really good people.

see, i know a lady. we work together. and we are friends. and she doesn’t know this...but she is one of my hero's in this whirlwind of a life.

this woman is truly one of the most genuinely kind, loving, and optimistic people i have ever met. seriously, ever.

this woman will smile through any heartache. through any trial. through any ass-kicking circumstance that life throws at her.

and unfortunately
, this week was not good to her.
enough that hearing about it made me want to cry. and yet, she remained as if nothing...absolutely nothing could make her think less of this life. and of all the blessings she has been given.

i can’t even express how humbling this has been to me. me--with problems that basically revolve around me. me--the girl who is not married, has no children, no house payment and no other mouths to feed.

me--the twenty-three year-old that lets herself get distressed over the ‘potential’ of her future not going the way she wants it to. and gets all twisted up about ‘possibly’ having her heart broken again.

i deserve the problems my little friend is facing more than she does.

and that is the truth. that right there is not wrong.

yup, that is why she is my hero. and that is why seeing bad things happen to insanely good people feels so wrong.


also, wrong. seven dollars for a loaf of gluten free bread.

ha. hell, no.

let me explain.

see, i get this call from my doctor (after having a series of allergy tests done again. and after waiting two weeks for the results because dr. so-and-so decided to take a crazy long trip to the caribbean) and he tells me that in fact, i do not have celiac disease (a complete allergy to gluten) but due to low antibodies-yada-yada-yada-something-i-didn’t-really-understand, have a gluten intolerance and would probably do better if i stayed away from it.

so, being the good girl that i am. i decided to give it a test run. two weeks without gluten. perhaps it would improve my stomach condition.

and then bam.

there i am. standing in the ‘gluten free’ aisle and my favorite grocer--smith's marketplace (oh yeah, and for those of you who aren’t familiar with the ‘gluten-free-scene’. everything. and i mean pretty much EVERYTHING but unprocessed fruits and vegetables--and some dairy--have gluten in them. and being that my body can’t break down lactose, that pretty much leaves me eating rabbit food and whatever the ‘gluten free aisle’ has to offer. which is basically nothing at outrageous prices).

$6.99 for a loaf of gluten-free bread.

i mean, come on doc. i am a pick-up-whatever-muti-grain-wheat-bread-is-on-sale-that-week-kinda-girl. for seven extra dollars of bread every week, i can suffer through a stomach ache or two.

plus, i really don’t want to be ‘that’ girl. the one that is so annoying to take out to any restaurant because i have to drown the waiter with questions of what ingredients are in what dishes and after twenty minutes of deliberating, end up ordering a plate of raw vegetables and a side of fat-free, gluten-free, everything-good-in-this-world-free vinaigrette.

no. no. no.

i just can’t be that girl.

besides. with my new goal to be like my optimistic co-worker, i figure it would be unhealthy to give up my weekly trips to kneaders for a hearty chocolate chip cookie.

instant happiness in $1.25.

i’m telling ya.

overall, i guess we could find a lot of things ‘wrong’ with this fun-little-spastic-world.

like fifty-seven-year-old creeps with overly tanned skin and pearl-like, razor-sharp, slightly-frightening veneers. and stares that honestly make you wonder if you’ve been raped or can still get away if you run fast enough.


like the surprising numbers of douche-bags you can catch staring at themselves in
the mirrors on the gold's gym walls.

kind of entertaining. but wrong.

like this photo. and the story to go along with it.

it gets me every time. seriously, just started crying while looking at it.


wrong, like how this story popped up on my front page of cnn today. front page news people. this world, really?

so, yeah. there a lot of things that are not right.
and sure, i could continue to point them out. ha.

but. more importantly.

there are so many, many things that are right.

and if we ca not understand the bad. we can never appreciate the good.
a lesson i learn repeatedly.

and there are times, like this week. when i am feeling a tad-bit overly emotional. and find myself questioning over and over again...why so many things seem bad or wrong...(and no, beautiful weather during the fall doesn’t really count--and expensive gluten-free food really doesn't matter--that is just me being my sarcastic self.)

and then i remember the words that president gordon b. hinckley once said...

“It isn’t as bad as you sometimes think it is. It all works out. Don’t worry. I say that to myself every morning. It will all work out. If you do your best, it will all work out. Put your trust in God, and move forward with faith and confidence in the future. The Lord will not forsake us. He will not forsake us.…If we will put our trust in Him, if we will pray to Him, if we will live worthy of His blessings, He will hear our prayers.”

yeah. that pretty much sums it up.

i'm going to stick with that.

because it's true. it isn't always as bad as it may seem. and if our heavenly father is on our side. then at the end of the day--when all is said and done. it'll work out.

and it's all going to be so very, very right.


p.s. i'm obsessed with this song right now. thanks george ol' boy.