Since green is my favorite color - and is one of the best colors on me - I own a lot of green clothing. I joked I could probably wear green for a whole month. After studying my closet for the number of green items, I determined I couldn't do a month of different green items. But I could easily do a week.
And this has been my week of green. On Monday when I showed up in a green blouse with my black suit, a couple people asked me what I would wear the next day, St. Patrick's Day. This is typically when most people intentionally wear green. Not me, I said. I'd be wearing green all week!
Thursday, March 19
Friday, February 13
6-word memoir
Recently a friend and colleague of mine gave our team a memoir assignment: we had to write our own six-word memoir, and share it at the next meeting.
The idea is from Not Quite What I Was Planning, a New York Times bestseller. The idea for the book came out of an Ernest Hemingway legend. In the legend, Hemingway was challenged to write a novel in six words, and he wrote, "For Sale: Baby shoes, never worn." Some say he considered this his finest work.
The rules are, you can't use six unconnected words - it must be a phrase or sentence. And it should reflect your own life experiences, goals, dreams and realities as described from your personal perspective.
It's challenging, but also quite fun.
I came up with a couple options this week and they vary a bit, depending on the day and my mood. I have my two favorites I'm going to share, but which two do you like the most? Which is the most accurate?
Young writer enjoying love; world travel.
Solar-powered, high-heeled, middle child.
Writing life’s story; wanted: happy endings.
Thankful for yesterday, hopeful for tomorrow.
Waiting for tomorrow; should’ve done today.
Green-eyed innocent becoming jaded realist.
Now it's your turn. If you had to write your own six-word memoir, what would it be?
The idea is from Not Quite What I Was Planning, a New York Times bestseller. The idea for the book came out of an Ernest Hemingway legend. In the legend, Hemingway was challenged to write a novel in six words, and he wrote, "For Sale: Baby shoes, never worn." Some say he considered this his finest work.
The rules are, you can't use six unconnected words - it must be a phrase or sentence. And it should reflect your own life experiences, goals, dreams and realities as described from your personal perspective.
It's challenging, but also quite fun.
I came up with a couple options this week and they vary a bit, depending on the day and my mood. I have my two favorites I'm going to share, but which two do you like the most? Which is the most accurate?
Young writer enjoying love; world travel.
Solar-powered, high-heeled, middle child.
Writing life’s story; wanted: happy endings.
Thankful for yesterday, hopeful for tomorrow.
Waiting for tomorrow; should’ve done today.
Green-eyed innocent becoming jaded realist.
Now it's your turn. If you had to write your own six-word memoir, what would it be?
Thursday, February 12
Happy Early Valentine's Day
Even though Valentine's day is a hallmark holiday, Joel and I still get each other a little something to say "I Love You."
When I got home from work Tuesday night, there was a bouquet of a dozen red roses waiting for me. Next to it was a note wishing me a happy early V-day, written on the back of Subway napkin.
That's Joel. Simple, yet thoughtful.
Monday, February 9
Cleaning Spree
I clean the bathroom every week. I wipe down the kitchen counters and stovetop after preparing something. I dust and vacuum on a fairly regular basis.
But every so often, I go on cleaning sprees. Usually it's because we're having people over, and I want everything to be immaculate. Or I notice something, like dust starting to collect on the base boards.
This time I think it's just anticipation of spring. It started last weekend, when I was inspired to give the entire inside a good deep clean. I decided to work my way methodically through the house, cleaning top to bottom, room by room: 1. kitchen, 2. bathroom, 3. living room & entryway 4. our room 5. stairs/office.
Once I had a plan of attack, I armed myself with the vacuum in one hand and a bucket full of cleaning supplies in the other. I took the vacuum around the ceiling corners and edges in the kitchen and living room, then vacuumed the floors in both rooms . I wiped down the kitchen walls/baseboard/doors, and the bathroom walls/baseboards. Then I washed the bathroom floor in addition to it's normal weekly cleaning.
This past weekend I took everything out of the fridge and washed the walls, shelves and drawers. I wiped down the walls and baseboards in the living room and entryway. Then I washed the living room and kitchen floors and rewashed the bathroom floor while I had the mop out. In between mopping and wiping walls and baseboards, I did three loads of laundry.
Next weekend it's our room and the upstairs!
But every so often, I go on cleaning sprees. Usually it's because we're having people over, and I want everything to be immaculate. Or I notice something, like dust starting to collect on the base boards.
This time I think it's just anticipation of spring. It started last weekend, when I was inspired to give the entire inside a good deep clean. I decided to work my way methodically through the house, cleaning top to bottom, room by room: 1. kitchen, 2. bathroom, 3. living room & entryway 4. our room 5. stairs/office.
Once I had a plan of attack, I armed myself with the vacuum in one hand and a bucket full of cleaning supplies in the other. I took the vacuum around the ceiling corners and edges in the kitchen and living room, then vacuumed the floors in both rooms . I wiped down the kitchen walls/baseboard/doors, and the bathroom walls/baseboards. Then I washed the bathroom floor in addition to it's normal weekly cleaning.
This past weekend I took everything out of the fridge and washed the walls, shelves and drawers. I wiped down the walls and baseboards in the living room and entryway. Then I washed the living room and kitchen floors and rewashed the bathroom floor while I had the mop out. In between mopping and wiping walls and baseboards, I did three loads of laundry.
Next weekend it's our room and the upstairs!
Tuesday, January 27
Two Scoops
The other morning, as I poured myself a bowl of raisin bran, I got a lot of raisins. It reminded me of a morning back in high school when our raisin bran had seemed especially heavy on the raisins, light on the bran. I had noticed it all week, and finally commented on it.
"Wow, they don't lie when they say they put in two scoops of raisins! But I think they should start using smaller scoops, because this is almost too many raisins for me."
My mom came over, peered into my cereal bowl, and had to agree. There were a lot of raisins.
My older sister, also at the table, sat especially quiet with a guilty look on her face . She then fessed up. Every time she had a bowl of raisin bran, she would carefully pick out all the raisins.
And put them BACK into the box with the rest of the cereal.
We all started laughing. It wasn't the cereal company's two scoops - it was my sister!
"Wow, they don't lie when they say they put in two scoops of raisins! But I think they should start using smaller scoops, because this is almost too many raisins for me."
My mom came over, peered into my cereal bowl, and had to agree. There were a lot of raisins.
My older sister, also at the table, sat especially quiet with a guilty look on her face . She then fessed up. Every time she had a bowl of raisin bran, she would carefully pick out all the raisins.
And put them BACK into the box with the rest of the cereal.
We all started laughing. It wasn't the cereal company's two scoops - it was my sister!
Monday, January 12
Moving Day Morning
I was feeling sad and sentimental about leaving the first place Joel and I called home. Until this morning. Moving day morning.
As I was getting ready for work, our smoke detector randomly started going off. It took me a good five minutes to figure out how to make it stop, all the while enduring the ear-piercingly loud beeping.
After the annoyance faded, I found it somewhat amusing that we've never had our smoke detector go psycho in the nearly four years we lived there. Until this morning. Moving day morning.
Maybe it was our apartment saying goodbye and wishing us well.
Or maybe it was just a good reminder why we're moving on.
As I was getting ready for work, our smoke detector randomly started going off. It took me a good five minutes to figure out how to make it stop, all the while enduring the ear-piercingly loud beeping.
After the annoyance faded, I found it somewhat amusing that we've never had our smoke detector go psycho in the nearly four years we lived there. Until this morning. Moving day morning.
Maybe it was our apartment saying goodbye and wishing us well.
Or maybe it was just a good reminder why we're moving on.
Friday, January 2
Farewell Apartment 104
Joel and I have lived in apartment 104 for the past three and half years. And in ten days we'll be moving out. For good. We're going to live in a friend's house for the next six months while they're out of the country. After that, we'll (hopefully) be moving into the house that will be our home for a good long time.
While both of us have grown tired of apartment living, saying farewell to apartment 104 is a little bittersweet for me. Because it wasn't just a ground level, one-bedroom apartment. It was our first place as a married couple, where Joel and I started the journey of learning what it means to be man and wife.
It's where we had a lot of firsts: our first argument as a married couple. Our first Christmas, complete with a smuggled-in real tree. Our first Easter, where I cooked my first ham and filled the apartment with smoke.
We did a lot of celebrating - sometimes just the two of us, sometimes having friends and family over for birthdays, holidays, or just because. And when it was necessary, we grieved. Grieved for death, broken hearts, lost jobs, and life's frustrations.
I'm not going to miss the stained carpet, the crappy dishwasher, or the insensitive neighbor who played the guitar in the middle of the night. But for all it's flaws and shortcomings, it was a good home to us.
So thanks, apartment 104. And farewell.
While both of us have grown tired of apartment living, saying farewell to apartment 104 is a little bittersweet for me. Because it wasn't just a ground level, one-bedroom apartment. It was our first place as a married couple, where Joel and I started the journey of learning what it means to be man and wife.
It's where we had a lot of firsts: our first argument as a married couple. Our first Christmas, complete with a smuggled-in real tree. Our first Easter, where I cooked my first ham and filled the apartment with smoke.
We did a lot of celebrating - sometimes just the two of us, sometimes having friends and family over for birthdays, holidays, or just because. And when it was necessary, we grieved. Grieved for death, broken hearts, lost jobs, and life's frustrations.
I'm not going to miss the stained carpet, the crappy dishwasher, or the insensitive neighbor who played the guitar in the middle of the night. But for all it's flaws and shortcomings, it was a good home to us.
So thanks, apartment 104. And farewell.
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