Euro-phoria

Continuing the theme of what I love, and what I love to do, today I want to focus on my passion for Europe. Prior to turning thirty (almost 11 years ago), I had never left the country (besides Cananda and Mexico, which really don't count for Americans, in my humble opinion).

For my honeymoon, I went to Ireland. It was the catalyst for my complete addiction. Since then, I have been back to Ireland another two times, Italy (three times), France, Corsica (technically also France), the UK, Germany, The Czech Republic, Sweden and The Netherlands.

If I could sell everything I owned and move to Europe with only one suitcase, I would do it in a hearbeat (well, sell almost everything - I'd definitely need to keep a 10x10 storage locker for precious items like my favorite band's memorabilia and my record collection).

But since that is not realistic (today), I'll continue to venture yonder across the pond as often as I can, and dream of a day when I can finally rehab this cottage in Ireland. Or this farmhouse in France.

I don't need much, really. Just an old building with good bones, loads of character and charm, a decent reno budget, access to flea markets and antique shops, a contractor...and possibly an interpreter.

*Sigh*

Setting the stage

I am constantly redecorating my home. Rearranging furniture, creating vignettes, swapping wall art, painting rooms. 

It's an expensive habit.

But, oooooh noooo, my inner wanna-be-interior-decorator doesn't stop there...When I stay in vacation homes or home exchanges, I actually rearrange furniture and decor. Sometimes wall art, if it's really driving me crazy. No joke. Granted, I usually put it back when I leave, but still. 

When I'm in restaurants, my mind is redecorating every teeny, tiny detail. Why this color scheme? These linens are hideous. Who picked that tile in the bathroom?

Coffee houses? Hotel lobbies? Book stores? Boutiques? Yep. Yep. Yep. and yep. I even critique HGTV shows. You know, the channel that features nothing but design professionals.

"I would NOT have done that."
"It would've been better if..."
"Oh, now THAT is just plain horrific."

I'm just OCD like that. It's a problem. 

But, you know what?

It's what I love. It's what I love to do.

Here's a taste of some of my favorite vignettes around the house (well, at least for today, because tomorrow or the next day, they will be completely re-arranged or replaced)...

I need someone else's house to decorate for a change...perhaps this time, you know, for money.

Back pages and days alone

Since I'll be taking off tomorrow morning for a weekend with my favorite band, I'll leave you with some further "themed" posts over the next few days revolving around things I love, and love to do.

I honestly don't think there is anything better than taking a day to curl up and lose oneself in a good novel. Here's a little sneak peek into my favorite reading nooks around the house...

Vintage books bundled with twine and dried lavendar from the garden.

A cozy corner for a morning cup of coffee and a little Pride and Prejudice.

Natural light (and on nice days, a breeze and soothing sounds of the garden water feature) by the window in my bedroom.

A comfie corner of my guest bedroom for friends and family to lounge in private.

Last but not least, my bed. Is there a more perfect way to end the day than a good book and feather duvet? I think not.

Where are your favorite places to read?

Thrifty Thursday: Goodwill Hunting

I am taking to heart some recent feedback from a fellow Blogging from the Heart participant who wanted me to explore the "I Know" bullet points from my last post. 

I'll start with...

I KNOW WHAT I LOVE, AND WHAT I LOVE TO DO 

Back in early September, I wrote a post that included one particular thing that I love to do. Granted, the post wasn't all about this activity, it was what I did to find some semblance of solace in the midst of a particularly stressful day. For the record, I've also made mention of this hobby here and here.

At this point, you are probably saying: "Get to the point already?"  

Okay. I admit it. I'm a total junkie. I'm a junk junkie. I love perusing thrift stores and flea markets (and *eh-hem* maybe an occasional yard sale or two) for objects that intrigue me and aesthetically please my eye. I'm a particular sucker for empty frames, shabby paintings, mason jars, vintage linens and anything feminine, faded and floral. I'm not so much into clothing or collectibles. For me, it's all about the home and pretty elements of decor; and sometimes turning something ugly or broken into a beautiful treasure. I lovingly use a stolen lyric for this process - "turning mistakes into gold". (I'll go more into this some Sunday very soon, when I begin a Salvage Sunday series).

Lately while on these lunchtime excursions, I've taken to photographing objects that catch my eye. This is much friendlier on the pocket book, and if I bought everything I wanted, I'd be featured on the next episode of Hoarders. I may pick up an item here and there, but it's mostly just browsing and taking snaps. Yep, I might just be that crazy lady you've noticed at the Salvation Army staging vignettes in the collectible aisle, positioning myself for the right angle and lighting.

I may not do this Thrifty Thursday feature every week. My schedule is far too erratic and my travel days are unpredictable. I don't always get to escape to do a weekly dose of retail therapy, but I thought it would be fun to highlight some photos of beauties found during my adventures in "Goodwill Hunting" on this inaugural edition of Thrifty Thursday.

This wicker fan caught my eye on the back wall of the junk room. I love the soft tones and floral pattern. I can see this in a beach cottage set against a very pale aqua painted paneled wall.

Just think of what this antique loom must have produced in it's glory days. I could write a whole fictional story about the woman I envision crouched over this loom, weaving her heart and soul into every fabric.

{CAUTION: If you're a germ-o-phobe you may not relate on this one.} 

I want to know the conversations, drama, secrets, lies, jokes, tall-tales and celebrations that took place day after day at the dining tables' of these utensils. If only spoons could talk! Perhaps another story developing...

This one just reminded me of my grandmother and her love of all things gold; from her lamps, to her mouse lighter, to her bible book-ends to her picture frames and mirrors.

She is just so ethereal and nymph-like that I wanted to capture her on film.

So, I admit that I did make a small purchase today. However, in my defense, I needed something lovely to hold all my shells from last weekend's beach-combing.

Tell me, what do YOU love to do?

I know someday you'll have a beautiful life

I don't think anyone who knows me would argue that I am a dreamer. Some may go as far as to say I'm a fantasist. And a small few who are closest to me would say I’m completely delusional (but that's a whole other topic). 

Here’s the thing…I am rapidly approaching my forty-first birthday, and while not a monumental year, I feel it's time that I finally begin to lay the foundation of a plan.

A plan for a complete life change. 

Admittedly, this may be a "mid-life" crisis of sorts. Yet I am beginning to realize that more than a few women of a certain age experience similar feelings of "what do I want to be when I grow up?" 

In fact, I had a conversation about this with two friends over the weekend, and we were all nodding our heads in agreement. But not one of us knew what to do about it. While it is comforting to know that I am not alone in this mindset - that by forty it’s Okay to not have everything figured out - it’s still unsettling. 

My fear is that, knowing myself and my “grass-is-greener” tendencies, what I think I want may not actually turn out to be the case. Or that it’s not realistic. Or it’s just plain selfish. It’s this fear, and the possibility of failure, that hold me back. Well, that and a lack of a plan. To be honest, I don’t even know where to start. So, I’ll start with what I know…

·         I know I need a change.

·         I know what I am doing now is not sustainable.

·         I know depression, anxiety, & exhaustion are signs     of danger.

·         I know what I love, and love to do.

·         I know what motivates me.

·         I know my strengths and my weaknesses.

·         I know situations in which I thrive.

·         I know that when I am at my best, I am energetic and excited. 

The problem is I just don’t know how to take all of that and make a living from it.

Parting Ways

The hours of my last night on the gulf coast passed slowly as I tossed and turned, waiting for daylight to come. Anticipating the last moments to savor an all-too-short stint in this paradise; my toes itching to feel the powdery soft sand seep between each crevice; my ankles thirsty for the warm salt waves; my skin longing to soak up every ounce of energizing Vitamin D; my hair begging for a respite from the humidity. 

One last time.

I awoke from my fitful sleep at 5:00, but lay still waiting for another hour to pass before daring to tip-toe through the bedroom to make my morning coffee. Half-blind, fumbling for my glasses, I managed to stumble my way to the balcony with my journal.

I spent over an hour watching the beach both go to sleep and come alive at the same time. All-night revelers wandered, entangled with one another, laughing, kissing; clothing damp and rumpled. Treasure hunters combed the sand for hidden treasures; coins and valuables left behind in the wild shenanigans of the previous night. Gulls pecked at the sand searching for bits of left-overs. The pool cleaner piled towels in a mound of blue and white stripes and swished his brushes along the edge of the pool.

I managed a mere half-page in my journal during this observation time; my final moments to capture the calm and serenity before departing for home:

"The words don't come. They stay swirling in my head, trying to formulate into coherence. 

Around and around,

a funnel cloud of thoughts, words, emotions building up - 

but never touching ground."

Given to (Dragon)Fly

I was all excited to find this little guy in my hotel room while visiting Pensacola Beach this past weekend. Until I found out a dead dragonfly doesn't symbolize the same good luck as a live one (which also apparently has to land on you to have any good karma rub off).

I'm just glad I didn't follow my initial instinct of preserving him in one of cosmetic tubes and packing him in my suitcase to take home. Maybe that bad luck stayed back in Florida.

Footsteps

First light of day 

life unfolds along the gulf

white sand shimmers

soft as snow

a breath of a breeze 

kisses the shore

as gulls dance with the waves

nature whispers sweet nothings

my soul listens

 my heart tentative

my mind quiet

if only for a moment

 

 

Please stand by the shore

These are my first impressions of Pensacola, Florida in photo format. I am eager to see what the daylight sheds come tomorrow over the white sand beach and clear blue Gulf.

 

 

The sun will rise another day

A new day, a new perspective. Today I was up and leaving the house for the airport by 6:00am. I watched the sky wake up above me, and I felt a sense of renewed hope.

So sad it's sickening

I've come to realize that I am a damn good cheerleader. Not so much for myself, but for others.

If only I would heed my own advice once in a while. Or just once, for that matter. Maybe then I wouldn't be, feel, think, act so erratic. 

Dishing out advice or positive motivation to others? Oh yeah, no problem. 

Acting on that advice and internalizing it for my own self? Not so much.

Why is that? 

Why am I able to provide thoughtful, meaningful and actionable feedback to others, but when it comes to myself, all I do is ruminate on the negative. I'm paralyzed by my own self doubt.

I can't do this.
I can't do that.
I'm not good enough for this.
I'm not talented enough for that.
She does it better.
He says it so much more eloquently.
If only I could do it this way.
Why didn't I think to do it that way.

Negative. Negative. Negative.

The radio interference is deafening. And these poisonous thoughts and feelings are draining every ounce of my being.

Maybe it's time for someone to just tell me for a change. Someone to take me under their wing and show me my worth. Tell me it's okay. Kick me in the ass and tell me to stop whining. Teach me how to find that place, hidden way below the scarred surface, that can motivate and support my own damn self for a change. Maybe I need someone to enlighten me on how to truly focus inward. 

Practicing self-kindness is so hard for me. I really don't understand it. For the life of me, I don't understand why I find it so hard to have an ounce of compassion for myself. 

If not me, then who? 

Garden of stone

Something occurred to me today. Something that should have been blatantly obvious quite some time ago if I would've pulled my head out sooner. But that darn control freak, over-achiever, "good girl", perfectionist, self-proclaimed martyr in me has slowly, relentlessly overtaken every aspect of my life. Like a poisonous weed whose roots have ruthlessly penetrated the fertile garden of my mind.

But, you know what? 

I can't do it all myself.

As much as I may want to, need to, feel as if I should. (Don't ask me why I have this compulsion because I'm not ready to face any those demons quite yet). 

It actually feels a bit liberating to finally admit this. I realize it's OKAY to let go sometimes. Delegation is key. My mental health is more important - maybe the most important thing for me to concentrate on right now. I can't please everyone all the time. I can't take on more projects, tasks, commitments. And, do you know why?

I can't do it all myself. 

Finally, after months, I feel like I can breath without hyperventilating. My head isn't spinning out of control worrying about all the plates I have to juggle. I'm not paralyzed with fear and distress; mentally ready to explode into a million pieces.

One more time for good measure.

I. Can't. Do. It. All. Myself.

I need help. And, that's okay too. As much as it frightens me to write this, I know I need to ask for help. Because if I don't...well, if I don't...then I haven't learned anything from this realization. I'll be back to square one, and well on my way back to the frightening chasm between sanity and the cruel alternative.

The weeds would have won.

Sunday Snapshot

A touch of nostalgia

My son outgrew this tricycle five years ago, but it's still parked on the back patio. Each day the sky blue paint fades a little more, the rust spreads and spiders weave their webs through the spokes. For me, it's lovely and shabby and and full of memories. For my hubs, it's another obstacle to dodge during his weekly yard work.

Scorched

We are experiencing an extreme heat wave where I live. Yesterday the temperature topped 108 degrees. This kind of oppressive weather, this late in the season, has drained me. That, coupled with the inflammation of my chronic back pain, seems to have literally sucked the life right out of me. 

Drained my spirit.

I need rain. Not a few sprinkles of morning mist; a hard, driving storm to hydrate the earth and replenish my soul.

WASH {Pearl Jam}
Oh please let it rain today. This city's so filthy. Like my mind in ways.
Oh it was the time. Like a clean new taste.
Smiling eyes before me and tears from my face.

Wash my love. Wash my love. Wash my love, yeah.

Sin for sale. Buying just a need. O who planted all the devils seeds?
And what's the truth? And the truth that lies at home.
It's on the inside and I can't get it off. Yeah.

Wash my love. Wash my love. Wash my love, yeah.

What's clean is pure. But hey, I'm white on the outside. Though I stray.
What she don't know today might kill us both tomorrow. Bring it back someway.
Bring it back, back, back... to the clean form. To the pure form.

Wash my love. Wash my love. Wash my love. Wash my love.
Wash my love. Wash my love. Wash my love. Yeah
Wash my ...wash my...wash my love....yeaaaaaaahhhhhhh

Release me

Today is one of those days when my back pain is making it difficult to concentrate on anything but the invisible knife stabbing me along my left side. Right where my lower ribcage meets the muscles that support my jacked-up spinal cord.

I have no patience.

I'm irritable.

I'm whiney. 

I'm flat out pissed off at everyone and everything.

Even the thermometer in my car has set me off on a tangent.

 

"108 degrees?! Are you kidding me?"

It's not a good day to answer the phone. Or send emails. Or sit in marathon meetings that require concentrating on anything other than shifting my body weight every two seconds. It's probably not a good day to blog, for that matter.

Maybe tomorrow this agonizing pain will subside, and I will be more tolerable (read: tolerant) - to myself and to others.

Maybe.

Thoughts she can't help thinkin'

I started most of this post as an "About this Blog" sidebar, but then it got completely out of hand. Yet as I read through it (edited, deleted, edited some more and then deleted more), it dawned on me that this was probably a good start to introducing myself to you, my reader(s). Ha, ha...yes, I know plural is wishful thinking at this point. 

Maybe this is a more of a stream of consciousness post than an exploration on how to find my voice. Nevertheless, it lets you in on a little bit more about me and what makes me tick (as in *tick* like a time bomb).

Well, a little...

Although I've been blogging on and off for a couple of years now, I decided to create a whole new space especially for Susannah's Blogging from the Heart course.

A fresh start, so to speak.

It's hard to say exactly what this blog will be about, since it is still in it's infancy. I can assure you it will consistently involve musings about travel and music; amateur photography as a result of my new-found iPhone and Instagram addiction; chronicles of my obsession with thrift stores and flea markets; and perhaps even some occasional dabbles into fictional writing.

On days when I'm feeling particularly brave, I shall delve into my struggles with chronic pain and anxiety; my irrational need for acceptance; my debilitating (and loooong laundry list of) fears; my frequent neurotic behavior; and probably some seriously off-the-wall content resulting from bouts of insomnia. 

Someday I will go into my dysfunctional family and personal relationships; and my complete inability to cope with everything life decides to fling at me all at once. How I ultimately have only myself to blame, by trying to maintain the outwardly "perfect" persona, when inside I am a complete mess.

I'll bitch about my job, and how much I long for a complete life change. I'll share my unhappiness about entering my (*eek*) 40's, and explore a multitude of ways to finally "find my path" at this critical transitional life-stage...whatever that path may end up being.

I'll frequently use cuss words (like I did above and here), even though Susannah warns against this practice. Sorry, it's who I am. "It's my voice!" But I promise to try to keep the f-bombs at a minimum.

I'll ramble at times. 

I'll struggle to hit publish often. 

I'll delete posts when I experience "morning after" regrets. Or fear that I exposed too much. Or offended someone. Or get a negative comment.

I assure you I'll have typos and awful grammar. I love to use "And", "But" & "Or" to start sentences, and I parenthesize things way too often.

I'll do my best to resist the inevitable urge to withdraw back into myself when it all becomes too much, or there is any semblance of a *virtual* relationship that evolves as a result of this blog. 

I'll test my boundaries and keep my heart open, no matter how hard that may end up being.

Above all, I will always find a way to poke fun at myself through sarcasm and loads of self-deprication (my best defense mechanism). All in the name of humor and amusement - for both you and me...oh, and in hopes of finding my place, my voice, my way through this vast blogosphere.

Sounds like loads of fun, eh? Stick with me. I'm a work in progress.

So, there's a little taste of what you are in for on this blog. Somehow it morphed into a long, rambling mission statement of sorts. But, not really - it was more of a promise of a complete cyber-dump of the hodge-podge of the mess that is me...Words Once Spoken (Can't Be Taken Back).

Desperately seeking soothin'

It was a rough day at work. Or maybe it's been a few rocky weeks. No, make that months. Ok, I'll be totally honest...

It's been a shitty couple of years. 

My professional career has "taken the fast track". However, my so-called success has led to more responsibility, more deadlines, more stress. It has also led to less family time, and less time to take care of myself. 

All this "success" has been at the expense of my sanity; and it's finally taken it's toll on my well-being. My relationships have suffered. My physical health has suffered. My mental health has suffered. (Everything has suffered in more ways than I am comfortable sharing at the moment.)

Today was one of those days. I needed to escape - just for a few minutes to regain my bearings. Something - ANYTHING, to lower my blood pressure and clear my head. 

So I took a drive...and ended up at a Thrift store. Not sure how that happened. But as I wandered around the brick-a-brack, refurbished electronics and musty clothing, I unexpectedly began to find beauty and inspiration all around.

I fell in love with this old typewriter, but it was broken and I just couldn't justify buying a nifty old dust collector

Although it was a mass-production piece, my eye was drawn to the needlepoint and the heart design (and I'm a total sucker for girly floral patterns)

Third times a charm! I simply couldn't resist the lure of this pretty teacup and saucer, knowing it would be the perfect way to decompress after a long day. 

Not bad for $2.00, eh?

Oh, and a dozen pink roses from the grocer sure helped transform my space.

And finally, the ultimate way to shake the bad vibes of the day: an evening of Eddie Vedder's Ukelele Songs on vinyl...

 and a candle-lit bath with a glass of red wine. 

Serenity now.

Tomorrow is another day. 

Sweet dreams.

xo

Friday night lights

I was captivated by the evening sky during my son's soccer game Friday night. While I know I should've been paying closer attention to the swarm of green uniforms chasing the ball, I couldn't help but snap photo after photo as the sun dropped lower and the sky changed colors; clouds mutating into various shapes. 

"Whispering hands to lead him a way"

-Even Flow (Pearl Jam)

A ethereal angel-cloud watches over 

And a crooked heart to make me "Smile"

The heat and humidity is still oppressive here in California. How I long for the coolness of autumn to take hold. But until that time arrives, I will continue to find wonder in this indian summer heat wave.