Holiday Hands

Friends,

Here is a fun, easy, powerful, inspiring, meaningful way to touch someone’s life and meet a great need. Glennon Melton from “Momastery” has put together an event called Holiday Hands. On the site hosted by Together Rising, you can sift through calls for help from hurting people all across the world. Some people want only a pen-pal. Some would love it if you sent a Christmas card to their grandfather who lost his wife this year and is having a difficult time remembering why he wants to live. Some would love a gift card to purchase clothes for their children. It’s up to you how you want to help, and there are hundreds of ways you can that won’t cost you a penny.

On the flip side–those of you who would like help or know of someone who could use a helping of kindness and generosity, go ahead and post the need, and within the hour you will see that there is more Love and Goodness and Light in this God forTaken world than you thought possible. Spread the word, be the word, share a word. Let people know that Love reigns supreme. 

And right now, find a way to meet someone in their suffering or let someone into yours. This is our job, our only job, to bear witness to each other’s lives, to do ALL THINGS with GREAT LOVE. Be the reminder that we are in this thing together; we are not alone! YOU are not alone.

Love & Blessings!

Together Rising

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San Francisco – Raw and Uncut

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Last May I paused for reflection. Reflecting is something I immensely enjoy once I’m doing it, but don’t do often enough because I tell myself too much is happening right this very moment to spend even a few moments thinking actively about the past. We live in fear of falling behind or missing out, and so we go, go, go until something happens to bring us to our knees, and it’s in that position we are finally inert long enough to notice where we’ve been. The peaks, the valleys, the plateaus. Some of it’s black and brittle, scorched by pain and charred with brokenness, but there, just beyond and up a little ways, is growth, healing. The past is no place to buy a home and raise a family, but it is a great place to drive by once in a while, especially during milestones.

When I consider some of the things that can be achieved over the course of a decade — graduating from the fourth grade, a decent bottle of Cabernet, hundreds of books read, the sheer number of toilet-paper squares and Q-tips — I’m more than a little awed by the fact that, in that time, Michael and I have never spent a night apart. Not a single one. But the substantially better reflection-worthy truth is that every single day for roughly three thousand, six hundred and fifty days, we have said Yes to each other.

Sometimes saying yes is easy, like for example when someone asks, “Would you like another piece of cake?” Yes, the answer is always yes.

And sometimes saying yes is incredibly difficult and makes your sphincter clench. “Can I borrow your (brand spanking new, never been opened) copy of Outlander?” . . .  yes; but which child will you be offering as collateral?

A great many of us are blessed and so fortunate to live in this part of the world that is constantly providing for us. Our haves largely outnumber our have nots. But it gets tricky where Love is concerned. The world gently thumps us on the back the way a mother coaxes a burp from her engorged infant, encouraging attitudes such as Mine, Me First, I Need. We look around – through windows, in magazines, at each other – and see that in order to be happy, we must always be acquiring the newest look or thing. Change is glamorized. Options are healthy. But what I’m noticing, in myself most of all, is that we are being taught to despise boredom. To fear it, even. If we are bored, if we are anything less than fully entertained, then it must be time for something new. Cut your hair, get a tattoo, buy a new outfit, purchase a new phone, renovate your kitchen, move to another state, fall in love with someone other than the one you’re dating/married to. I am guilty of all of these except two.

Once you decide to make another human being your forever person, saying Yes to them becomes a little harder to do each day. Their needs – which used to be a delight and honor to fill – become a nuisance, a bother, a bore. We struggle and we strain, because right over there is something fresh and green and affordable. I wonder it feels like, tastes like?

We do not have a perfect score. Our marriage is blotted and blemished with many Nos. There have been and are still times when I choose my comfort over Michael’s need. At night, when he is craving intimacy, and I am craving my body pillow and a book. Michael has put his shyness and dislike of confrontation before the protection of my heart. There is no such thing as the perfect marriage. But a happy one looks like saying Yes to each other when the world offers up alternative arrangements.

So, my darling, Michael, I dedicate this post to you, to our ten years, and to a thousand upon thousand more yeses.

 

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Won’t Stop Me

First, let me clear the air of any misinterpretations or possible confusion.

I spend about 0.01 percent of my time in the kitchen cooking meals. That culinary gene – I didn’t get it. Before tying the knot with Michael, I sat him down for extensive questioning (I think some people call this “a date”) and immediately after asking if he intended to pursue a college degree, which he would use to provide for his family — don’t worry, I had already received the results of his criminal background check — the next question was “Can you cook?” When he said yes, pretty much the deal was done. Kind, Intelligent, Handsome, and he cooks? Well, I tell you: it took all my restraint not to throw him over my shoulder and carry him back to my lair where no woman other than me could ever lay eyes on him.

Unfortunately, in order to get that college degree, he had to go to college, which took place on a campus, where there was a dangerous surplus of intelligent, ambitious, beautiful young women. Again, please don’t worry for me. Indeed the ladies looked, and for that I could not begrudge them; however, whenever I felt one of their ganders at Michael was nearing that acutely speculative glance every woman, married or single, recognizes as “Hm, marriage material?” I literally rained on her parade using my squirt-gun. Then, as sweetly and as graciously as I could manage, I said, “Cool your jets, lassie. He be mine.”

But ya’ll, can you blame me?

(P.S. as of late, Michael is sprouting more and more gray hairs, which means – YES! – sooner than later I’m going to have myself a silver fox. Yum.)

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Back to other important things:

But when I laid eyes on Jenn’s – from Jars & Buttons – mustard and flower-flocked apron, right then and there I vowed and determined to find a place in my life to accommodate this adorable garment; even if it meant I would wear it only while walking my dog each afternoon, which I did, that very afternoon following its arrival. You know how some clothes affect you? This apron makes me feel woozy with ardor, intoxicated with purpose. I slip it over my neck, secure it around my waist, and I’m confident I can conquer the world while dusting off mountain peaks, look cute doing it, and still be home in time for the supper I won’t be cooking.

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There’s little else that delights me more than receiving a gift, surprise or expected, in the mail. The presentation made me want to order something else from Jenn, just so she would send me another pretty package scented with rosemary. Don’t believe me? Look!

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Jenn, you’re a gem, thank you.

Shop Jenn’s Store

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Happy Sunday!

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The Rulez 2 Speaking Goode

First, let me preface this short blogpost by saying that, up until sixish years ago, I used to struggle to be sure which your/you’re warranted an apostrophe. Even now, I have to break up the contraction if I’m to feel completely at ease. Occasionally, someone will comment on a picture on Facebook, and because I also commented – six years ago – I receive a notification. Of course I’m curious, so I click the link, and there, for all THE WORLD to see, is my comment punctuated (pun intended) with errors. For half a second I consider leaving it be. Then I click the edit button, and finally, phew, I can breathe again.

Second, if I were to rate myself on a scale from one to ten, one being you are completely illiterate, ten being Grammar Girl and Dictionary.com follow you on Twitter, I would put myself at around . . . seven point four. (The point four because, thanks to a nifty-rifty trick, I recently learned how to use whom correctly, like, eighty percent of the time – WUT!?)

And third: due to the nature of this subject, I have second guessed and overthought every sentence I’ve written, paying painstakingly close attention to every single letter, wanting to be super-extra-positive sure that it contains ZERO errors. Which means, there’s probably a bunch.

So sue me, whydon’tcha.

All of this to say, if you happen to have a rap sheet chockfull of wordcrimes, it’s OK. At one time or another, we have all felt the dripping cold chill of realizing, yes, absolutely: you should have remembered of never follows could, should, or would. But hey, you see this right here (                           ) ?It’s a safe space, and you and I are in it.

So sit back, relax, and let Weird Al take you’re your Wednesday up a notch!

Just One Little Lette

So sorry about that wonky last post. I’m trying out this new media system called Hootsuite. Have you heard of it? Basically it’s the universal remote to your browser. You pin it at the top, and if ever there’s something you want to share with the public, Hoosuite is connected to your blog(s), your Facebook, and your Twitter. Also, you can schedule when you want the post, tweet, alert to go live. Pretty sweet, huh?

Oh . . . Hootsuite. I GET IT!

No, probably no connection there. And in case you were thinking to yourself “Wow, Cara’s really in the know,” let me walk over needle in hand and burst that little thought bubble. Like everything else that’s super cool and newfangled, my husband found Hootsuite in his little bag of tricks. If you’re interested, there’s a very brief video that explains how to use Hootsuite here.

Okay, onto what I meant to be posting about.

Have you seen these? Book covers with one letter missing? (Hence the missing letter in my post title; didn’t want you to think I was getting careles. <— see what I did there?)

I’m fairly easy to amuse and quick to laugh at silliness, but seriously, these really are terrifically clever!

 

a

 

b

 

d

 

c

 

e

 

g

 

h

 

j

 

k

 

m

So you know I had to try and come up with one. I don’t have the time – nor the ability – to create a graphic to go along with it but how about . . . . . . .

THE GIRL WITH THE EARL EARRING

Hah! Can you see it? Instead of a “pearl,” a tiny earl swings from her lobe, Indiana Jones-style.

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Okay, your turn. Go!

 

 

 

Original Source here