If you will take a moment to remember: when I first blogged about california, I mentioned that it was to be a time of taking risks; doing things that I wouldn't normally do. Well, I did something that, according to me, was highly uncharacteristic. I had decided before leaving St. Louis that I was going to do it, but waited until my trip was about to end before following through with it. Throughout the days just prior, my stomach would turn with butterflies as I would think about what I was about to do. And just before, I thought I was going to pass out...thank goodness for Christin.

Just after I did it, I was on a natural high..."oh my gosh, look what I just did!" About 6 hours later, I went through a guilty "oh crap what did I just do?" My friends in Denver assured me it was cute and shipped me home with thoughts of shocking people...ya know, showing my fiesty kind of rebellious side (if that side even exists within me).

The surprise never came. My closest friends didn't even notice. I had a conversation with my good friend Jen for almost 20 minutes and then had to say something to her before she did the "oh my gosh". Apparently it looks completely normal; as if I've always had it.

It's been a month now...I like it a lot...and a couple people have noticed and said so...props to Neil, Angela, Amy Schoepf and Steve...Look at the picture. Do you see it?

Turns out my perception of self doesn't really match others' perception of me. Hmmmm...

it's not just a couch

it’s not just a couch
it’s a hug on a bad day
it’s safety during sleep
it’s a hot cup of tea

it’s not just a couch
it’s a place where friends meet
it’s where tears fall
it’s where laughter abides

it’s not just a couch
it’s change
it’s giving up and giving in
it’s a journey to a new self

it’s not just a couch
it’s a life
it’s letting go of pieces of the soul
it’s saying goodbye
in order to say hello

I think it has been established that I am a nostalgic person. My heart attaches quickly to memories and things that provoke emotion. I'm am driven by what moves me. I choose art based on what I can relate to; what means something to me. Scripture speaks to me when it posesses the same characteristics.

In the most recent case, the object was a couch. Ironically, I had only had this couch a year, but I had fallen in love with its long brown lines and the way it would embrace me at the end of the day. I bonded with it over Lifetime movies and ice cream and cuddled with my nephew on it.

I bought it at a rather large benefit yard sale shortly after my last roommate moved out. Maybe I was nesting, maybe I was growing up. Regardless, I was on a tirade to make my home feel like a home and that couch fit perfectly against my wall. The part of me that thrives on being independent, that doesn't think to ask for help, that takes on the world attached to that couch.

For various reasons, there isn't room in my house for that couch anymore. It would fit in one space, but would not fit in path to get it there. Unexpectedly, the couch went to the curb yesterday. I'm trying to shirk this independence thing. Trying to ask for help; to delve into community. It's much harder than I imagined. Slowly, it's being widdled away, and yesterday, a part of it left with the couch. Through the tears (and the pain), I can't help but see there's more room in my living room (and in my heart) for what is to come.

it's just a couch, but it's not just a couch....

betty crocker strikes again!

My grandma was once upon a time Miss Betty Crocker, meaning she won an award. I think it runs in the genes...look what I made last night for a bridal shower!