This Memorial Day will definitely be spent thinking about the men and women who have and are serving our country, but it will also be spent remembering everything in my life for which I am grateful. I really have no strong military connections, nor did I ever ponder the possibility of joining the service, but I have often thought about my daily routine versus a soldiers. I wake up, fill my belly with breakfast, go to work, fill my belly up again with lunch lovin', finish my work to do's, head home, think about working out/sometimes workout, fill my belly up again with dinner and contemplate how I'm going to relax before soaking up some zzz's. 'Tis the life of working 8 - 5. I can't complain. I have a schedule that doesn't surprise me with midnight shootings, a who knows what hour suicide bomber, pondering how much longer "everything" is going to be going on, or having a country however many miles away complaining about a war when I am in the fact the only person who knows what life is like in the midst of this criticized desert.
Whatever the day is and whatever time it might be, remember who is fighting for your right to speak, act and live in a world where you may have never known anything different. This is my Memorial Day. I am beyond blessed to live where my days are measured in hours of sleeping, eating, working, playing and relaxing. All of which are surrounded by my friends, made-up families away from my real family and loved ones who are within reach of planned out weekend. Thank you from however many miles away we are for providing me a life I often take for granted!
Monday, May 31, 2010
Thursday, May 27, 2010
"The best part of waking up..."
One) Could be Folger's in your cup (according to my Pops).
Two) Most likely the sun is already on the rise.
I can't believe it. It wasn't but a few weeks ago I was complaining about the cold, the possibility of snow and of course waking up a few minutes early to defrost my car windows, but now the sun is racing to beat my alarm clock! 'Tis a wonderful day...
I know I often rant about Thursday being my favorite day hoping others will mark it down as theirs in agreement, or possibly I'll start a global fan page dedicated to "Thursday: It doesn't get much better." One can dream, right?
My rant doesn't end there. I love Thursdays and I love the summer sun. Some might think of this post as a waste of space and/or reading time, but hey you clicked the link. Sorry. So back to my rant, the summer sun lightens our moods, raises our spirits and beyond all things give us more time!!! I along with a few others might possibly be the only ones still wearing watches simply because reaching for our cell phone or glancing at the computer screen doesn't make sense or trust-worthy.
I'm a time catcher, chaser and hater. Some despise the 2 am last call, I dread the tick ... tick ... tick ... So this leads me back to the summer sun. I love waking up knowing at 6 am it's light out. I love knowing at 8:19 pm the moon isn't the only light illuminating the sky. It really is amazing knowing each day has the same number of hours, but it's also pathetic during the winter weeks wishing I could sleep in until 10 and go to bed around(delayed fact: my days are measured in hours of sleep).
Retracing my steps to Tres Bracelets' glass half-full outlook, I can't say it enough, but my glass is more than half-full when "The best part of waking up is the summer sun blasting through your blinds, highlighting your eyelids and welcoming a beautiful day ahead!" The sun was up before I was this morning and I sipped two cups of coffee. Life is fabulous!
Saturday, May 22, 2010
When life throws you lemons, stir up some nail polish...
Happy Sunday!
While browsing through some of my past blog, I came across one of my favorites. Because it's a lazy Sunday and I'm starting to wind down from the weekend, there is nothing better I can think of doing than painting my nails.
A little over a year old, but still one of my favorites. Enjoy
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
A small, but obvious fact about me: I love love love OPI nail polish colors. In hopes of one day marketing their line, naming their latest colors or winning a lifetime supply of nail polish I submitted this letter:
While browsing through some of my past blog, I came across one of my favorites. Because it's a lazy Sunday and I'm starting to wind down from the weekend, there is nothing better I can think of doing than painting my nails.
A little over a year old, but still one of my favorites. Enjoy
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
A small, but obvious fact about me: I love love love OPI nail polish colors. In hopes of one day marketing their line, naming their latest colors or winning a lifetime supply of nail polish I submitted this letter:
To The Fabulous, Beautiful and Ever-So-Fun Team behind OPI,
I am in love with your product. More than in love, I represent, wear, display, promote, shout, apply (over and over), and above all follow your name anxiously waiting for the next line to "line" my nail polish basket (slowly turning into a bucket)!
Trying to decide what shade to sport for the weekend, I looked no further than "Need Sunglasses" due to this weekend's weather forecast and summer being around the corner. I'm sure you receive inquiries and suggestions a gazillion times a day, but I was thinking while showering, "Wow...OPI needs a country-bumpkin line!" Not sure if the shower sparked my Idaho roots to fruition, or I find myself listening to Lady Antebellum on repeat, but one thing I know is nothing would be more fantastic with the summer sun, plethora of picnics and Daisy Duke shorts around every corner, than a seasonal line dedicated to America's finest toe-tapping, calf wrangling, dosey-doe-ing, spare me another heartbreak, and the dust hanging over the horizon world of the wild west.
My first suggestion: "Lady Antebellum's Lemonade"
Your yellow-nail-polish-wearing-
Brittanie
Monday, May 17, 2010
Detox From The Book.
I just returned home from what might have been the best weekend yet! Upon my arrival into my room, unzipping my suitcase and crashing on my bed, I immediately reached for my laptop eager to get online and catch up on my emails, Facebook and a few blogs I follow. Forward five minutes later, I received nothing but junk mail, more time wasted on Facebook than I anticipated, and laughed at some fabulous blog posts. So of the three tasks I accomplished, I am deeply embarrassed by one. My life (and possibly yours, which I hope not) has evolved into this social network obsession where if I go two days without reading my "wall" I feel as if I'm out of the loop. Ga-Ross! What loop am I really out of . . . the adventures outside my bedroom window. I'm challenging myself, which is pathetic to even admit it might be a challenge, to a month of Facebook detox. No updates, no feeds, no likes and more importantly dislikes, and definitely no creeping around for 10+ minutes. This is going to be the best breath of fresh air in a long time.
This past weekend was surrounded by my best friends and my most favorite places. There wasn't one minute I thought about Facebook and I want the rest of this month to follow. Here goes something that shouldn't be hard, but more along the lines of necessary. It's about time!
This past weekend was surrounded by my best friends and my most favorite places. There wasn't one minute I thought about Facebook and I want the rest of this month to follow. Here goes something that shouldn't be hard, but more along the lines of necessary. It's about time!
Saturday, May 8, 2010
To My Beautiful Mother and Best Friend.
Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening my little never forgetful, always there, most honest, determined and driven, beautiful Mother and Best Friend,
Where do I begin? Will this post ever end? It starts off with a quirky fact between my mom and I; We introduce each letter and email to one another with "To my little ___ ____ ____." Why would anyone care about knowing this and why would I release a little secret only we share. Because it reminds me of my youth and without a doubt holds me over for what the future is bound to present. One of my favorite pictures of my Mom and I is us sitting on the front steps of our house so close to one another, almost as if I am her conjoined twin. As a matter of fact, I think until age 10 I was tied to my Mom's side. My thought was, "How could I go a minute without my best friend?"
I would wake up every morning, disregard my bad breath and immediately rush to her bathroom and watch her get ready, admiring and secretly hoping one day I would look just like her. She would put down her blush brush, forget about her mascara and lean over my way and listen to my never-ending nasally voice ask question after question. As soon as the big hand hit 7 it was time to be separated. What? Why can't I follow her, why can't she join me? The tears would start rolling and she would lean my way and whisper, "Brittanie, I will pick you up in no time and we will have the whooooole night together." Reassuring to say the least, I knew the minute her car pulled up my velcro was out waiting for her hip.
As the years passed by and we were on a new adventure to a little land called Boise, Idaho, I wasn't sure where we were headed, but I knew my Mom was next to me and everything would work itself out. Of course, this had to be the time when girls start growing, changing, b*tching and ignoring. My little out-of-place self and confidence hidden behind my rainbow-framed glasses was no where near close to puberty. This is where my Mom stepped in (although at the time I was deeply embarrassed). She ran into The Bon (what has now become Macy's), picked me out a few colored training bras and instructed me how to wear them and what they were for. Excuse me! I was a flattened piece of cardboard. Nope, my Mom knew different and knew she wasn't going to let her daughter be the poking stick for every other girl to kick. She threw me in the mix, even if I wasn't quite ready.
Soon it became freshman year of high school, and where was my Mom ... at my side. I had spent the last 5 years at a school with cubbies. High school doesn't provide teenagers with cubbies. They had lockers for secrets, mirrors and dirt traps. So here I am > neon green retainer, polo T, third eye and a splash of Victoria's Secret body spray entering a fire pit. My Mom wanted my next four years to be fabulous, fun and possibly similar to hers (nights of dancing, finger snapping and crushes). In order to put me on the right path, I was in for my first lesson of high school ... figuring out my lock. "Turn to the right, now left, one more left, okay now three over to the right. Brittanie, I said three over, no not two, three!" Finally, step one of being a freshman landed me an F. After the first week, it was as if I had spent my toddler years playing with locks, but it was only due to my Mom's consistent question, "How did it go?" I was finally able to move past step one and dive into 4 years of makeup lessons, crushes, dances and dresses, still knowing I could fit into my 5th grade training bras, driver's ed and of course the brutal history tests I never thought I would pass.
As graduation commenced I was college-bound. This is where life took a drastic turn for me. Resembling my days not ready for bras, my next step in life also came slower than most my peers. I thought the world held swatches, pillows and textiles. Back up, I thought my world held bold colors, antique mirrors and my own design studio in San Francisco. This plan derailed the minute I realized I enjoy decorating, but I really didn't want it to cradle my life. So Plan B fell in my lap, I drove to Utah and attempted a few days at the University of Utah and finally came to my senses and knew, I just wasn't ready for college, yet. So who was there to listen and open her arms as I came crawling back home ... my Mom!
I waited a semester, enrolled at BSU and dedicated the next 4 years to school, working part-time and leaving my Mom's nest (simply a few miles away). It was during my first real roommate experience I knew how fabulous my Mom was even when I wasn't home. She wanted my new place to feel comfortable and stocked with love. By love I mean food, toilet paper and more food. She was constantly buying the most random goods (lightbulbs, windex, cereal and anything else she supplied it). Hoping she was following the #1 rule everyone repeated to her, "You gave her wings now let her fly" or "Listen, she is but a few miles away. She will be okay!" It didn't matter if I left my Mom's nest or was okay, I wanted her by my side and I think she wanted the same.
Next in line was my witty move someplace away from home, someplace I could call my own and a place where I as all alone. It's almost been a year and I can't think of a day I haven't talked to my Mom or thought about her. It's been a job trying to meet people. It's been a job trying to make ends meet. It's been more than a job being away from her. Through each hurdle and every box of kleenex I've flooded, my Mom has been at the receiving end sending a hug, a check or a care package wishing she could wipe away my fears.
I wish I could snap myself into her kitchen and tell her just how much I miss Sunday dinners. I wish I could land myself in her backyard and help her plant flowers and mow the lawn (she is the master of this). I wish I could go for walks every night and talk about our days, our troubles and our loves. I wish above all, I can someday be just as amazing of a mother and friend to my future daughter as my Mom is to me. If I look back at the picture of us attached at the hip, I know there is nothing better than having someone so special, inspiring and loving there whenever you need her no matter if she isn't at my side.
Happy Mother's Day My Little Sidekick! I love you!
Where do I begin? Will this post ever end? It starts off with a quirky fact between my mom and I; We introduce each letter and email to one another with "To my little ___ ____ ____." Why would anyone care about knowing this and why would I release a little secret only we share. Because it reminds me of my youth and without a doubt holds me over for what the future is bound to present. One of my favorite pictures of my Mom and I is us sitting on the front steps of our house so close to one another, almost as if I am her conjoined twin. As a matter of fact, I think until age 10 I was tied to my Mom's side. My thought was, "How could I go a minute without my best friend?"
I would wake up every morning, disregard my bad breath and immediately rush to her bathroom and watch her get ready, admiring and secretly hoping one day I would look just like her. She would put down her blush brush, forget about her mascara and lean over my way and listen to my never-ending nasally voice ask question after question. As soon as the big hand hit 7 it was time to be separated. What? Why can't I follow her, why can't she join me? The tears would start rolling and she would lean my way and whisper, "Brittanie, I will pick you up in no time and we will have the whooooole night together." Reassuring to say the least, I knew the minute her car pulled up my velcro was out waiting for her hip.
As the years passed by and we were on a new adventure to a little land called Boise, Idaho, I wasn't sure where we were headed, but I knew my Mom was next to me and everything would work itself out. Of course, this had to be the time when girls start growing, changing, b*tching and ignoring. My little out-of-place self and confidence hidden behind my rainbow-framed glasses was no where near close to puberty. This is where my Mom stepped in (although at the time I was deeply embarrassed). She ran into The Bon (what has now become Macy's), picked me out a few colored training bras and instructed me how to wear them and what they were for. Excuse me! I was a flattened piece of cardboard. Nope, my Mom knew different and knew she wasn't going to let her daughter be the poking stick for every other girl to kick. She threw me in the mix, even if I wasn't quite ready.
Soon it became freshman year of high school, and where was my Mom ... at my side. I had spent the last 5 years at a school with cubbies. High school doesn't provide teenagers with cubbies. They had lockers for secrets, mirrors and dirt traps. So here I am > neon green retainer, polo T, third eye and a splash of Victoria's Secret body spray entering a fire pit. My Mom wanted my next four years to be fabulous, fun and possibly similar to hers (nights of dancing, finger snapping and crushes). In order to put me on the right path, I was in for my first lesson of high school ... figuring out my lock. "Turn to the right, now left, one more left, okay now three over to the right. Brittanie, I said three over, no not two, three!" Finally, step one of being a freshman landed me an F. After the first week, it was as if I had spent my toddler years playing with locks, but it was only due to my Mom's consistent question, "How did it go?" I was finally able to move past step one and dive into 4 years of makeup lessons, crushes, dances and dresses, still knowing I could fit into my 5th grade training bras, driver's ed and of course the brutal history tests I never thought I would pass.
As graduation commenced I was college-bound. This is where life took a drastic turn for me. Resembling my days not ready for bras, my next step in life also came slower than most my peers. I thought the world held swatches, pillows and textiles. Back up, I thought my world held bold colors, antique mirrors and my own design studio in San Francisco. This plan derailed the minute I realized I enjoy decorating, but I really didn't want it to cradle my life. So Plan B fell in my lap, I drove to Utah and attempted a few days at the University of Utah and finally came to my senses and knew, I just wasn't ready for college, yet. So who was there to listen and open her arms as I came crawling back home ... my Mom!
I waited a semester, enrolled at BSU and dedicated the next 4 years to school, working part-time and leaving my Mom's nest (simply a few miles away). It was during my first real roommate experience I knew how fabulous my Mom was even when I wasn't home. She wanted my new place to feel comfortable and stocked with love. By love I mean food, toilet paper and more food. She was constantly buying the most random goods (lightbulbs, windex, cereal and anything else she supplied it). Hoping she was following the #1 rule everyone repeated to her, "You gave her wings now let her fly" or "Listen, she is but a few miles away. She will be okay!" It didn't matter if I left my Mom's nest or was okay, I wanted her by my side and I think she wanted the same.
Next in line was my witty move someplace away from home, someplace I could call my own and a place where I as all alone. It's almost been a year and I can't think of a day I haven't talked to my Mom or thought about her. It's been a job trying to meet people. It's been a job trying to make ends meet. It's been more than a job being away from her. Through each hurdle and every box of kleenex I've flooded, my Mom has been at the receiving end sending a hug, a check or a care package wishing she could wipe away my fears.
I wish I could snap myself into her kitchen and tell her just how much I miss Sunday dinners. I wish I could land myself in her backyard and help her plant flowers and mow the lawn (she is the master of this). I wish I could go for walks every night and talk about our days, our troubles and our loves. I wish above all, I can someday be just as amazing of a mother and friend to my future daughter as my Mom is to me. If I look back at the picture of us attached at the hip, I know there is nothing better than having someone so special, inspiring and loving there whenever you need her no matter if she isn't at my side.
Happy Mother's Day My Little Sidekick! I love you!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
