to new hello's.

To say my life has changed drastically since we last spoke would be an incredible understatement. First, I am now a married woman! Daniel and I got married on July 31, 2015 and it was the dreamiest, most intimate ethereal garden wedding. I wish I could bottle up that day in an elegant perfume vial to open and breathe in its aura. I can't tell you how many times we've gazed over the photos. Our photographer was an angel.

Two days later, we whisked away on a tropical honeymoon to Oahu and Maui. To say we had the time of our entire lives would also be a great understatement. We pretended we were teenagers again who fell for one another in paradise. We ate well, drank heavily, didn't sleep, scuffed our knees, did things we weren't supposed to, ran, hiked, danced, and enjoyed ourselves and our new lives together. I will never forget those couple of weeks -- I can still smell the green.

I've missed writing and creating more than anything, but life happened in a million big ways and I will never be sorry for that. I'm sitting here in near disbelief, heart swelling, at how our future is panning out. It will be a real adventure.

So here's to more of these, I have a lot to tell you.


A (not-so) new debut.

Oh it's been a little bit. I apologize the drag of silence, but before I dive into a post about what exactly has been going on (a new job! wedding things up to our ears! honeymoon planning! relief! anxiety! okayness!), I think I will share bits about me that new (and old) readers may care to read over coffee, or a glass of noir, I will not judge, on this fine Friyay afternoon.

I have been incredibly big and I have been incredibly tiny and I am finally okay with not fearing or having to be one of those extremes. I'm building my curves, and I am working every day to own them.

Reading and writing are some things I miss the most -- concentrating long hours on creating or taking in content. I often overwhelm by how fast-paced and anti-analog this time is. I do not belong in this era.

I am a walking emotional sponge. I have been soaking in and carrying around other people's stuff my whole life. Good and bad stuff. It is a difficult trait to have because I feel what others feel and my body identifies it as foreign because it's not my stuff so it manifests as anxiety usually.

Now because of that, I burn out easily. People drain me. I'll usually have to leave the room and take breathers outside, in a bathroom, or if you have a dog you can usually find me hanging out with it, wherever that is. I can be down with dogs forever.

I am quite the catastrophizer. I sniffed a small neon green crayon up my nose when I was five and I thought I was going to die. I also kept it from mom because I didn't want to get in trouble. I later hid in the daycare's bathroom to panic and sneeze it out.

I'm the kind of girl who has an eye for a guy with strong hands, arms, a serious jawline, and is good-smelling. I get to enjoy all these things with Daniel and I am quite aware I'm with a looker. These days I think I've complimented him a dozen times on his deodorant I picked out. It smells loooovely but in a man-type of way.

I like pretending I am a wine connoisseur, though I gravitate towards about 2.5 variations. I like to feel fancy. I also like fancy cheese.

I am so looking forward to having a little family with Daniel. What better a sound than hearing little feet running around wood floors, soft skin, cherub lips, and curls, so many curls -- little we's.

I am so so shy. So shy. An extroverted introvert and I will let you mull through the shopping list of reasons why that may be difficult.

So, there you are. Hello again, and I will try to tend to this space more in the coming huge months!


Good, good karma.

Sometimes it comes around. 
Feeling nervous and giddy (but mostly nervous) this week. How I've waited.
I hope good, good karma maybe finds you, too.  


On being present.

Dream catcher c/o Wildflower Dream Catchers
How pure the tiny growing mind. How it easily latches on to what's right in front of it. Sweet, tunnel vision. No room for the torrent of thoughts that seep through any orifice: ears, neurons, pupils, mouth -- all things of the body are magnets of memory.

No. Young minds are so simple and oh how lucky are they. They know how to just be. A feat many of us grown ones are unable to do. We are so jaded. We are so fatigued.

But to try. To try and just try every day, every hour, with all you've got inside to stay right here. Away from there and then and in that painful memory or that trying time. No need to keep in such a state. Because what for? Why?

I paid massive attention to detail as a girl. I did things like count in my head, make up stories about colors in front of me, try and configure faces out of the lush, green mountains. Raced the raindrops and married salt & pepper shakers. I played dolls every waking moment of every day. I closed my eyes and breathed in my parents' scent, memorizing it, keeping it safe. I was always up there in my head but always in regards to what was in front of me.

I need more of this. And, I suspect you do, too. Be a child for a moment. Stare at colors and smell the spring air. Aren't they lovely? Take a break from the deep-up-there and find what you're missing right in front of here. Hold it with eager palms, the rope on a tire swing you have no choice but to cling to. Don't fall! Grab the present like a face and find the galaxies in its eyes. Look until you can see the stars drifting on boughs. Then simply be still.

The thing about hard things, past things, worry things, is that you don't have to hold on to them.


The worrier.

This is me. From birth even, I was the most anxious, fretful kid.

I hid things. Ruminated over them like a bad story you force yourself to read, just to finish it. To figure it out like some grand trouble there was an answer for. Thinking, then, it would wrap around tightly, consume, and last forever! Or become unbearable! Or I'd be in trouble! My stomach churned at every academic test, soccer game, dance performance, to the point where I'd gag. I don't know how or when I got over that. But maybe it just turned into another form of worry. Changed over like the seasons, transitioning from one state to the next. Hiding in the breeze and coming forth in the hot summer sun.

Ebbs and flows. Lays in the deeply strong, frighteningly accurate intuition I have (more, a post perhaps, about that later, I think).

Now though, this worrier girl, I'm unsure where she went or where she's been. I do not miss her, but I do anticipate her sometimes. Only this time, I can whisper, ah, there you are. I know you well.  I knew of you at a young, young age, and you weren't recognizable. A threat. I knew you as a teenager, in your early twenties, you were a terrible thing.

But now, as a woman, can identify you, worrier girl. I can ease you.


Nuptual musings and daydreams.

A sneak peek into my brain and what its waves are churning around as of late.

To veil or not to veil?

Twenty-three different categories of lists. And many a list within those lists.

Naked cakes! Bridal shower cakes! Buttercream cakes! Crepe cakes or cake-cakes?

Tweaking and fussing about our theme a hundred and one times.

Wanting to shout from the mountain peaks but keeping most things under wraps -- I choose not to make my Pinterest boards public! (Throws some kind of mood in the air.)

The gym, again and again. For those bridal arms and dress-worthy tush.

Thinking of every and all things needed to be done but wanting to watch Grey's/Friends/Dexter instead. Many times watching Grey's/Friends/Dexter instead.

Stares intently at one another. Let's just run off barefoot to the mountain's forests and get eloped amongst the sun beams and tall, tall trees. Quiet, just us, with wise mother nature. Eyes become wild with feat. Daydream some. Then continue planning our day, squeezing hands, cracking jokes, pretending we aren't subtly nervous but in an eager way. 

I am so excited.


universe threads // to feel vol. 03

I'm buzzing again.

No atom inside me can keep still. They don't want to.

I am the plants in our home, an abundance of green deep breaths and I am the crystals finding light in all the corners. Beauty there, here, and right over there.

These hands, they can do and they can make. They can embrace and pour words swirled up from the tandem dance between my heart and brain. These bits of memory flow mellifluously to you and you and you. To me. I want to grab them, knuckle white and not let a single thread go.

You see, I fantasize the cosmos letting down these long threads from where they are to where I physically am. Glowing tethers from the corners of stars. Behind them, between orbits, within. And they reach me -- little reminders of my purpose. Of what I am made of, what I can do. They flutter when I am too still. And so, here I am. Being as absolutely un-still as my body can be.


my classic line // beauty things vol. 01

It is essential for a lady in this era to have a signature style. That she can be recognized from afar, so she can feel marvelous in her own skin, that she can know herself as the graceful yet fierce woman she is. Classic, lovely,  familiar. It feels so good. She owns it.

And she also doesn't have to think too hard while painting the finishing touches on her delicate face in the morning, or for a romantic evening, or for no particular reason other than to feel wonderful.

I enjoy dappling with different eye shadows, usually in tones of rose and gold. Lately, I've worn a basic smoky eye. I prefer my lashes long and lush (forever grateful for the set I inherited from my mama -- hers are lengthy as can be) and my cheekbones rosy and glowing. I prefer a feminine, blooming shade for my lips with an occasional deep red if I'm feeling sassy. And always fill your brows making sure your hand is light as air so it isn't stamped on!

But oh, I adore my eyeliner. I'll paint on the wings, the cat eyes, the clean clean lines until I am ninety-two. I have a specific brand I use and a method, practiced and true, I perform each time. Same starting point, same angles, same flicks of the wrist -- I wouldn't refer to as anything other than perpetual. As well as the frequent comments/requests on Instagram, Facebook, and even here, I have been stopped in public, asked about what I use and how I do it, time and time again. One woman, a Nordstrom employee, bless her, had me do a quick tutorial on her as I was perusing the fragrances -- this, a love affair and the guiltiest of pleasures I'll write more on later.

So, for the quick guide! I use this brand of eyeliner, with this method. That's it! No tricks, no scotch-tape, no special erasers. I really just scoured Pinterest for a while and practiced my heart out. I do find that the surer the hand, the sharper the line. And! I almost never line the bottom lid as I find it makes eyes appear smaller.

I do love beauty and everything feminine, so perhaps I'll make this more than a once-in-a-blue-moon type of thing in this space. Yes, I think so.


25 years of you.

We celebrated your 25th birthday on Saturday, mon amour. Yes, Valentine's day too -- which I've always thought to be charming. But your birthday first. Always first.

Always first because I get love day with you every day. And I am eager to see the vastness of all the other love days. A warm day in June. A busy day where we just miss each other and there's only time for good morning-see you laters and hello-goodnights. A day so full of bits of things and dancing in the living room to sounds from the perfectly intimate speakers of our Crosley. An evening where our eyes both synch shut as our tired heads hit the pillows, reaching for a spot to touch -- an arm, a leg, on the cusp of unconsciousness, and then sleep. I get to have all these love days with you, and you with I.  Naturally, all I wanted was to love on you for your birthday.

So I hope your birthday was as sweet as mine. Though you weren't feeling well, and though we had an early night, you were joyful. And I fill with joy when you do -- sniffles and all.

I love you my 25 year old (very) soon to be husband.


Bits of wisdom.

Some things I have learned forty-four days into 2015. 
A jumble of musings, in no real (grammatical or chronological) order.
Without fail, I burn my lips and/or tongue on my morning coffee daily. 
Patience is no virtue of mine I suppose. 

One of the best forms of therapy is to rearrange your living space. 

Checking items off the wedding list equals sweet joy. 

Saying goodbye to a beloved succulent makes my chest ache. 

To rediscover cottage cheese and all of its curdled deliciousness. 

Write down everything. All that you think. All that you hear. 

Thinking Out Loud is the best song to hum. 

I get butterflies whenever I think of my to-read pile o' books.
I find a simple wardrobe with plenty of neutrals aesthetically
 pleasing and I prefer shades of cream, blush, or a light steel grey or blue.  



A few snaps from my birthday weekend. Absolutely spoiled by everyone I love.

How am I 25? How can I reflect upon a year? I do know it's been a bit different than the preceding twenty-four. I also know I've learned the most about this lady I am --what I like, do not like, what I endeavor, what physically lightens my being and tilts my chin upward just so, what makes me curl into a soft, shaking ball hugging my sides to still the fear.

Tender. I've become tenderhearted and if this wave of emotions was somehow hidden, saved to be gently introduced to me in my mid twenties, I face it gracefully. I often become so joyous, I cry a little and it's okay. To me it means patience, bravery, and wisdom. Being at peace with my emotions and seeing them as familiar companions, teachers, entities I do not need to be afraid of, always will be my most colossal triumph.

And if I've softened some inside, my physical body has strengthened. I've never felt so strong and healthy before. I've never felt so graceful. I've never been so able. And this is strange and new to me -- loving curves, respecting muscle, being proud of leanness, smiling upon softness. Balance -- the most challenging and fruitful mantra. 

A year from now will be my golden birthday. What will I look like then? I will be married and 6 months in to being a wife, a person I hope I get to know who beams with loveliness in everything she does. I hope to continue my writing because it is my joy. I hope to create anything my hands are able -- photos, art books, crocheting, home decor. Perhaps we'll be talking about little ones. Perhaps we'll have our first home.

25 here we are.
Here I am.


Honey thoughts.

Those sweet sweet reflections that summon pulls of nostalgia. A melange of things, really. I've been quick to jot them down so they can't wander away again. And they've filled up the first several pages of my pocketbook. I like to note them as honey thoughts. Some are too sacred for this space, but there are a few I'd like to share. 

On gray, murky days, tracing rain drops on the inside of  the car window as they travel diagonally across the glass. Pinning one drop against the other -- seeing who wins.

How my mama used to play piano on the steering wheel to a certain oldies tune. And I'd giggle at her accuracy.

Sitting in Grandma's suitcase, hair a mess, bottle dangling from my lips, pretending it was my personal bed. And dozing off each time amongst her Chanel No. 5 scented dresses.

Peanut butter sandwiches while I was sick. And only peanut butter sandwiches.

He and I. Taking a walk in the field on a breezy, warm mid-spring day.

Do you have any honey thoughts?


Busy, busy.

01. A bit of a red lip for my Seahawks champs!
02. Quiet nights in, laughing and spending good, good time.
03. Caught him asleep on the couch one night, just like that.
04. A date at our new favorite Mediterranean spot.

Aw man. I really can't kick this busy thing can I.

I had thought, perhaps, the holidays were the culprit of keeping me very occupied, and they were in the loveliest of ways, but one good thing transitions into another like water. I am up to my ears in wedding details and plans, envelopes and color swatches, stamps and flowers and lists! Lists in abundance -- scratched out, checked off, beautifully messy lists. Good thing they're my favorite way to go about detailing. It's quite fun, now that we've got the big decisions out of the way.

See, for weeks I didn't know that was up, some absent thing seeming off and tonight, as I sit on my couch sipping coffee from our shiny new Keurig v2.0 (faaaaancy) I've got it, I think. All this talk of wanting to create and giving myself more space and time to do so, doesn't count if all I do is think about it making it happen. Thoughts aren't things actually, unless you make them so. And these swirling around in all that head space should be things because oh are they lovely.

One of my favorite thoughts are of my art journal. Which I think I'll dash off to work on now. I hope your Sunday was as lazily productive as mine!


A 2015 Manifesto.

with purpose. with intention -- a responsive and proactive head-space. 

simplify, simplify, simplify.

live mindfully, or, continue to at least.

and gracefully.

photograph, journal, create, write.

read and read abundantly.

want less.


be the loveliest bride and wife I can be.