nails, polish, and all that girly stuff …

Yesterday, my youngest niece left the world of childhood and jumped daringly into the world of teen-hood.

Given her southern california roots, it was quite an act love when her family drove her north on i-5 in order to celebrate this momentous occasion with her family.  And for that, I am grateful.

I don’t get to see my sweet cousin enough, nor do I check-in nearly enough via the numerous avenues as are now readily available thanks to the wide world of social networking.  And I hate myself for it.

But that’s what led me to really think about what I wanted to give her for her birthday.  She is no longer a little girl, but she’s not yet a woman (oh dear, never thought I’d reference a Britney Spears song in my blog).  I want her to enjoy her youth and not race towards the next stage of life that promises freedom … or the illusion of it, rather.  We live in a world where girls leave childhood behind before they have the chance to experience it.  And I told her that in my card.  I also told her, that elegance and class are seen as fashion trends, instead of qualities to pursue.  And that, my friends, is a shame.

I did my best to put together a “Teenage Girl’s Survival Kit” … full of all the fun girly things necessary for life as a lady … while attaching tid-bits of advice from her older, grey-hair-going, cousin.  You know, things like, your parents are actually on your side, contrary to popular belief (as is established by most teens these days); and guard your heart, you’ll be softer because of it, etc.

(I should have taken a picture of my survival kit … it looked pretty cute, if you ask me)

One of the things I included was a travel sized pack of nail files.  this may seem silly to anyone who was not raised under the teachings of Barbara Richardson (the quintessential lady, in my opinion).  you see, Barbara, or as I affectionately referred to her, Omie, was the epitome of class and elegance.  She was calm, passionate, strong, tender, proper, kind, forgiving, hospitable, and nearly every other quality of the noble woman as described in Proverbs 31.  and we are blessed to have had her as an example.

now back to the nail files … I’m not sure if it was something she was taught in her etiquette classes or not (yes, ladies, they actually took classes on etiquette … what a novel concept, right?), but she always had a nail file by her side.  by her chair, in her purse, in every drawer of the kitchen and each bathroom; a nail file was no further than a reach. and because of her obsession with the beauty tool, her nails were always perfect.  sometimes they were painted and sometimes not; but they were always beautiful. 

I’m sure, if I though hard enough, I could think of some sort of metaphor or analogy to her nails and the nail file, but work has nearly fried my brain, so I’m not going to think much more about it.

I just loved hearing the resounding remarks of agreement when kate opened the package of nail files, from all of the women in the family.  nice nails are a part of being a lady.  they aren’t reserved for school girls anymore … it can be a beautiful accessory that compliments the “lady” in all of us.  painted or not.

gone grey

a couple of years ago, while sitting in the passenger seat of my momma’s car, I started to notice a bit of a glimmer coming from the top of my head.  it glistened in the sunlight, like glitter from a prom dress.

I flipped the handy-dandy visor down to get a better look at the sparkle atop my head.  my mom nearly drove off the road when she heard me gasp at the discovery of the shiny, grey strand peeking it’s way through my dark brown locks.

amidst her blonde wavy hair, she laughed at me, {how dare she?!} saying that she started to go grey in her early 30’s … so don’t worry.  

DON’T WORRY?!  coming from a head of blonde hair … the color that nearly masks a few greys amidst the lightly pigmented strands!

I was only 25!

setting all vanity aside, what did I do in response to my head’s lack of melanin pigment? I pulled out the teasers … and I plucked. 

and I continued to pluck for a couple more years.  I dismissed the wives tale that curses three more in the spot of the plucked grey hair … aaaaaaannnnnnd I kept on plucking.

as the years passed and my plucking continued, more grey’s developed.  as if laughing at my disregard for the tale. 

who would have know it was true?

ah, but now there are too many to pluck.  I’d nearly have a bald spot if I kept removing the greys that seem to be strategically placed directly at the top of my head.  they seem to follow my part too … in the middle or on the side, there they are.

so, instead of trying to get rid of them, or spending millions of dollars trying to paint over them, I’ve decided, reluctantly, to embrace them.  it wasn’t so much a choice, as much as it was … well, simply weighing my options:

a) create a bald spot on top of my head
b) visit my stylist {I have never had a stylist to call my own, but now that my friend is a stylist, I suddenly have one} every 6 weeks at the cost of too many pennies from this cheap woman’s pocket
c) or, give in

so, give in I did!

and you know?  as long as my grey strands are smooth and conform to the natural {thanks to the blow dryer} flow of the rest of my hair, it’s not so bad! and thankfully, they are growing into sort of a streak … so I’m trying to channel my inner Rogue {I’ve always wanted to be a super hero} … with a touch of Stacy London …

 

I can pull that off …… right?

South of the Border

Hola! I’ve been gone for a week exploring my roots south of the border!  Yup … we went to Mexico with a group from our church … and to clarify, it wasn’t to explore anything, but rather to minister to God’s little ninos through construction, sports, and VBS.

I was the ordained blogger for the trip, so instead of reiterating everything we did, (if you are interested) here is the link to the blog I penned along the way: http://www.cotf.org/mexico/

I am SO glad the doors were opened for us to go on this trip! It was truly a blessed adventure and we pray for provision, as plans have already begun for next year’s missions trip!

berry stains

the berries are just too good not to sacrifice a few scratches for … and for some reason, when I’m picking berries at my grandpa’s place, my pain tolerance increases.  the thorn pricks and raw scratches acquired just don’t seem to bother me.  I almost don’t even realize all of my wounds until I wash the sweet berry stains from my fingers and the warm water awakens the scratches.  even then, it’s worth it.

to soak in the sun-setting rays while picking juicy morsels of fresh sweetness, in the stillness of the early evening, with nothing but a slight breeze and chirping birds to distract you … simple perfection.  the red stains on my fingers bring me back to my childhood and memories race through my mind.  I’m surrounded by the fields that housed my adventures with the native americans and the swiss family robinson.  and I’m simply, for the hour it takes to glean every ripe berry from the vines, in heaven.

now what can a 2-person household do with that many berries?  oh, I can think of more than enough recipes to fill with sweet antioxidants.  and thankfully, there will be more ripe berries in just a few days.

thanks to my papa, the multiple freezers he acquired over the years, and the oversized garden he never ceases to plant, I know the perfect way to prevent time from stealing the life from my sweet addiction: 

Pick berries {note: the basket should have more berries than your belly by the end of your picking adventure}

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rinse berries and remove the stems

Spread out on parchment paper in a single layer

and freeze!

simple, I know.  tutorial totally not necessary, but I love the step by step process … it’s my favorite food to freeze!

this afternoon, I’ll put them in my vacuum food saver for future smoothies, cobblers, crisps, yogurt parfaits, etc

but I couldn’t resist saving a big bowl of antioxidant goodness for myself

best combos for the tasters

prior to wasting taking your time and reading this post, I must warn you that it is entirely pointless. 

last night, as I was making my staple bean and cheese burrito for the quick-out-the-door meal that monday night bible study requires of me, I was thinking about how much I LOVE the combination of beans and cheese.  refried pinto beans, that is.  it’s just the best.  if I were on an island, stranded for the rest of my days, the food item I would want in bountiful amounts would be … the bean and cheese burrito. talk about protein.  and if you use low-fat/non-fat beans, it’s not even bad for you.  it may not have a whole host of extra nutrients, but I’m not on an island, so I still get those from the other foods that I regularly consume.

other food duos that evoke shear pleasure from my taste-buds? oh, there may not be anything quite like the combo of hot frijoles oozing with gooey queso, but my mouth also certainly enjoys …

cinnamon and sugar {hello sweet heaven}

bbq sauce and ranch {new favorite salad topper}

peanut butter and banana {something elvis & I have in common, I hear}

{pic source}

and so on …

but nothing quite satisfies like a good ol’ bean and cheese burrito

{pic source}

now, you know you want to go slather some low-fat refried pinto beans on a flour {or my new favorite corn} tortilla, sprinkle it with some shredded queso of choice, and a dash of mexican seasoning {I use emeril lagasse’s essence seasoning} …  but don’t forget to put it in your george forman grill to toast the tortilla to a crispy golden brown …

mmm … I’m hungry now.

can I brag?

thanks for your permission to brag on some absolutely fantastic women …

these women:

I’m pretty sure I’ve bragged about them before … but they are just so wonderful that I think they deserve a little more bragging.

I met these beautiful women when they were in high school {most of the just sophomores} when I was a youth leader at church.  We all clicked individually, mashed a couple of trios together, and wham.  one big group of extraordinary women, joined by their passion for life, love, and Jesus.  I’ve spent many hours over coffee dates, lunch dates, girls nights, small group sessions, and even locked up in bathrooms, mentoring and loving these women.  the Lord has graciously given me the wisdom that they’ve needed to hear, while at the same time, taught me a great deal through each of them.

Now, they are all in college, working full time, traveling, and ministering to the world.  talk about proverbs 31 women in training.

this summer alone, they are spread across the world, from LA to Germany to Orlando to Australia to Mexico to Asia and beyond.  I love watching their hearts grow as the they discover their passions and purpose on this little planet.

I’m so excited to see where life takes them and I’m honored to get to call these women friends!

now, go and conquer the world.  well, don’t conquer it, but win them to Jesus.  boom.

an american sport

in my humble opinion, you can’t get much more fun, or american, than a baseball game.  you just can’t.

there’s something about the smell of the grass, the roar of the crowd, and even the crunch of the peanut shells under your feet, that evoke a patriotic infused feeling of summer. 

even if it’s at the minor league level.  the same feelings apply.

the sound of the bat, making it’s ever so brief impact with the stitched ball and catapulting it into the sky.  the moment the lights turn on to illuminate the field and it’s surrounding audience.  the smell of the dodger dogs, being roasted to perfection.  oh, wait … I guess that only happens at dodger stadium.  but our local minor league team {go rivercats!} has a pretty mean dinger dog going for them too …

it may go unmentioned, given my permanent union to a die hard giants fan … but deep down inside, I’m a dodgers fan at heart.  I blame my dodger blue blood on the mexican that raised me.  the guy that taught me the classic baseball song {take me out to the ballgame, for those that might not be american} and replaced “home team” with “dodgers” … for far too long, I actually thought the song was strictly a dodgers song.  im just that gullible trusting of the man that I call “dad”.

he loved the dodgers for good reason: born and raised next to dodger stadium, with stories of sneaking in to view the game from a perched position on top of a fence … before working there in highschool.  it’s his childhood.  and he passed the love on to me.

now, given our lack of a tv to help in my fandom, I’m not much of a fan.  {my blood is in fact red, like yours, believe it our not} but when it comes down to it, given the opportunity, I’ll always “root, root, root for the dodgers!”

but back to what I was saying about the game of baseball …

one thing in particular that makes the plastic-chair-sitting experience of being at a 9 inning-long baseball game so fantastic: the food.  and thank God for 9 innings.  makes way for 3 courses. 

1st inning: hot dogs
3rd inning: garlic fries with jalapenos
supposed to be 6th inning, but couldn’t wait: nachos … with jalapenos of course

at least that was the menu for our last baseball outing.  and to disgust my sister even further, another story about all the food items she would never dare let enter into her healthy little body: one time, my dad and I went to a rivercats game with the goal of eating one of everything on the menu throughout the game: dogs, nachos, cheese steak sandwiches, fries, crackerjacks, cotton candy, and who knows what else was consumed during that game.  I admit, it was in my younger years of higher metabolism and no care for the processed food.  {don’t worry kris, I couldn’t and wouldn’t do it again … but at least I can say I did it!}

he’d hate me for including this picture, but I guess that’s a perk of him not keeping me accountable and checking what I post on here.  he’s just so cute!