Insomnia is a Dangerous Thing

On a silly, girly note, here are some things I really want to be wearing this fall/winter:

A Sweet Motorcycle Jacket - the type with a mandarin collar, not the "Bad Sandy" version (though who can argue that it's not cool?). Or maybe something like this, but that doesn't cost $400. Slim Grey Jeans - I don't know why, I am usually pretty strict with my denim color range...going from darkish to indigo dark, but for whatever reason, I love the idea of grey ones this year.

I'd put them with a drapey navy or burgundy sweater, some flats or boots, and feel very modern and outside my "style box," as Megan always says. Speaking of boots...

Leather Boots - I don't even know what type, exactly, it's more of a know-them-when-I-see-them thing, but if I am gonna be near Denver for nearly a month, I think that justifies some big girl boots...or maybe some Native American inspired ones...or some fur trimmed...or...or... Just no Uggs. I'm sorry to all the Ugg-lovers out there, but I'd just have to let my toes fall off from frostbite before I bought some Uggs. HATS - I capitalized this because hats are more in style now than they have been for quite some time and I am EXCITED. I freakin' love hats. I took a graduate-level class on making hats, for goodness' sake. I WILL be wearing hats. I just can't find any pictures of ones I want to buy. Hmm, maybe the ol' major will come in handy once again.

Okay, seriously, I need to put down the Lucky magazine and get some face time with old friends. I am getting ridiculous.

Guess She'd Rather Be In Colorado

I've bought my tickets. I've priced out ski resorts. I've listened to John Denver on my iPod until I literally broke it. I am officially going to Colorado!



You might be able to tell, but I am just a little bit excited. It might just be about the only thing I can think about right now. Wilmington has been great, but good GRIEF, it's late October, and it was 85 today. I need fall in a bad way. I keep thinking about what I want to pack and do, art supplies to take, books to read with Megan, stuff to make with Christa. Yeah, as if 3 1/2 weeks spent in a state I love and haven't seen in years weren't vacation, treat, heaven enough, I get to spend those weeks with two of my absolute favorites, Christa and Megan. I am so blessed to be friends with these 2 smart, loving, beautiful, fun, godly, all-around amazing women. In their enormous generosity, they have invited me to stay with them, and oh boy will I. Praise God for putting me in an industry that allows for time off to enjoy Him and the delightful places and people He created.



I'm going to Colorado!!

My Own Little Corner

I want to buy a house.

Specifically, I want to buy the cute '40s brick house that sits a couple hundred feet from my grandparents’ old house, OR, I wanna live in the house we call Sedgefield. In a way, I do own Sedgefield; well, my parents do, at least. It’s the house they bought before I was born, built in 1945 with hardwood floors and one tiny bathroom. We’ve kept it as a rental house since we moved between my second and third birthdays. I have said as long as I can remember that I want to live in Sedgefield again. It’s small and plain, but it has a great backyard, a fireplace, and most importantly, history.

I adore the 1940s. One of my two favorite shows is called “Homefront” and is set in the years following the end of the war. It follows the intertwining lives of several families who struggled to find normalcy and a new life after years of worry and separation. I can imagine the young couple who must have originally inhabited our house facing the same issues and joys. I can picture the fresh faced wife cutting pictures out of magazines and dreaming about what colors to paint her spacious (by their standards) 1,200 square foot home. I can picture myself, too, mixing new and old décor, watering a flowerpot on the front porch, and excitedly throwing the door open to friends and family. There is just something about an older home that relaxes me. Perhaps it’s ridiculous, feeling that residing in a house built in a beloved era will somehow shape my life closer to the idealized images that live in my head. In Sedgefield, though, a connection is there, not only to the distant past, but also to my own.

I lived in the house less than 3 years, but the impact it’s had on my life far exceeds the time actually spent in residence. When I was little we’d go over to fix up the house between renters, and I would visit with the neighbors who’d lived in the charming homes since they were built at the end of WWII. Time spent in conversation with kindhearted Charlotteans born more than a half century before me taught me respect, admiration, and love for men and women of previous generations. I played with a girl who lived across the street in a run-down, overcrowded house where someone always seemed to be yelling. Watching her showed me the existence of, and inspired compassion for people who didn’t have the same sort of stable, loving, comfortable home life I enjoyed.

Afternoons and late nights spent painting, cleaning, and fixing up the house with my parents gave me not only a slew of practical skills to prepare me for home ownership, but warm memories of Amy Grant tapes echoing through the empty house, laughter over old stories retold, and pizza and coke dinners with only the floor for a table. Forever in my mind will exposed light bulbs and barren houses bring happy feelings of a closeness brought to my family by hard work and deep love. Though the upkeep of a 60 year old house makes the potential real estate profit seem overrated, the time spent together is priceless. I love that house. Yeah, I wanna live in Sedgefield. Somehow it will always be home.

SWAK

Hmm. This seems a bit futile. It has been 8 incredible months since I've managed to post on here, and after a while, it just seems like it's not worth it. Let's start slow, shall we? I actually wrote most of this months ago, when I was in the play Thoroughly Modern Millie while balancing my job on Bolden!...so pretend it's July as you read on, and I'll add more current adventures soon:



Hollywood's gotten to me. I'm not quite sure when it happened, or why, but this past weekend, I realized it was true....I've become a kisser. Now, don't put on your shocked face yet - I am far from planting one on the lips of everyone I meet - but since coming to Wilmington in April and finding myself among a mixture of local and LA film crews, and especially now that I am in a play with lots of, ahem, "theatre-type" fellas, I've found my cheeks bearing a rosy color originating not from anything Clinique has to offer, but from being the landing pad of the frequent pecks of my co-workers and friends. I used to think the whole thing was silly - a bit glamorous, yes, but I'm not European, sophisticated, or coordinated when it comes to casual physical affection. A few months of innocent smooches, though, and I have a confession to make: I love it! There is a precious sweetness to the whole thing, and you can't help but feel just a little old Hollywood to boot. I'm still far away from the $35 body wash one friend uses, or swearing off processed foods and western medicine, but I am frivolously, unabashedly giving in to one slightly over-the-top "movie business" shtick. So watch out, world, I have an ample supply of lip balm. You better be ready - or buy yourself a hoodie and get used to wearing it up!