Skinny jeans.

 Call me another Simon Peter. Though, I wouldn’t say that I’ve betrayed anything worthy of worship. Merely my sense of right and wrong in the case of Sense and Practicality. Trendiness cunningly deceived me away from a sincere and pure consecration of fashion sense. Maybe you could call me Eve.

Here is where I lay out the betrayal.

You remember the 90’s. Charged acid wash jeans tapered to accentuate the hips. Cut off shirts. Ponderous perms supped up with 220 volts. Never again do we want to go there.

Yet, in a way, the 90’s have serpented their way back into Style Magazine. I feel myself strangely deceived into liking some aspects of the flashback into Michael Jackson era. Skinny jeans happened to be the fruit in this garden that looked good.

It all began with jean shopping. During most of my shopping experience, my gaze was ricocheted off of the so called skinny jeans. I was strong. Determined. Never would I slip my foot into those things. They weren’t quite tapered, but they stretched. Imagine it—getting into them would be like stuffing a snake back into its discarded skin.

Before I knew it, there was a pair—two pairs—in my hands. I was in line for the dressing room. It all flashed before me. Suddenly, I watched myself as a pair slipped up over my hips. Not bearing to see the results, and envisioning an image similar to that of Angela Lansbury in a black leather mini skirt, I shut my eyes.

Have you ever stood in front of the dreaded fun house mirrors?

Slowly, I opened one eye. And then shut it again. I swear I saw a pear with legs wearing my clothes and sporting my hair.

Curiosity creeped into my dressing room and forced my eyes into reality. Hmm. Not…bad. My heart stopped. I glanced over at my boot cut jeans. Relaxed in fit. I’m so sorry! Slowly I allowed myself to move around in the jeans. It did reveal that I had hips. Yet, it didn’t quite feel like a clown show…at all. I think….I like them! came the astonishing thought. What happens next, you'll never believe.

Only a minute before, I had detested the very jeans that my hands would not loosen their grip on. That is, until the woman told me how much change was due. Before my very eyes, my right hand released its grip on the jeans and reached into my bag, pulled out my wallet, and paid her! I walked out of the store with giddiness seeping out of me. Truly, it was a disease.

And, as I sit here in my skinny jeans (and loving them) I type this story of betrayal in my world of clothing sense. What will be next??? Am I an Eve, Simon Peter, or merely a learner of trends and fashion and former prejudiced Elizabeth Bennet?

{Left alone again}...

Yet again, I find myself husband-less for four days. Temptation lurks around the corner...there it is. Ben & Jerry's brownie batter. Come to me, it says, eat me! ALL OF ME! NOW! Though, I've managed to (for the most part) retreat with spoon in hand and only hints of chocolate smudgens on the corners of my mouth.

 At this moment, I'm still home alone. Lady and her Tramp have replayed their canine romance three times over. Trixie, the jail dog, is crooning at this moment about Tramp as I dream about that handsome husband's homecoming tomorrow night. My friends have been gracious in keeping me company, loneli-less and happy. One even slept over the first night and is on her way now to sleep in my empty, hollow, and sometimes spidery apartment.

But last night I slept on my own. Yes, I slept all by myself.  Good for me, eh?

 I got home at 10:40 p.m. after a late meeting, talked to Matt,and fell asleep to none other than Lady and the Tramp (after a reasonable amount of chips and salsa.) Waking up from the sound of  dramatically breaking glass intruding upon my eardrums, I discovered the recycling truck had come at 6:45 am. And then I also discovered that the menu on the DVD had been replaying over and over. So, I shut if off, put in ear plugs, and slept. And then I awoke and felt the lovely company of empty, silent, lonliness.

Thus, I am rejoicing in the coming of my friend tonight, and my husband tomorrow night.


"But I am afraid that just as Eve was deceived by the serpents cunning, your minds may somehow be led astray from your sincere and pure devotion to Christ." 2 Corinthians 11:3

I should really be in bed...

When walking away from having been inspired, how does one just go straight to bed?

One minute I'm rambling on to Matt,

             "I mean really, tell me, what do you think? Because I....2 minutes later...and really, I need to   know your thoughts, because what I'm feeling is SO....2 minutes later....up the stairs....chitter chatter...in the door.....chitter chatter.... "do you think I should even consider pursuing writing? Because if I'm a rotten writer...

Silence. Wheeze in. Wheeze out.....

 and the next minute fast asleep in my bed?

No way, Hosea. Rather, I chit chatted my way to the computer and here I find myself out-letting. Truly a delight. If I were born in the early 1900's, or even the 1800's, I would be dressed in my night gown and night cap, twill and ink in hand, candle light dancing on the walls with my floating thoughts. Maybe I'd even have my own hand ground wheat bread to munch on with the butter that I just churned that day.

As excited and energized as I was when I sat down, I must now....

wheeze in. Wheeze out.

*snore*

P.S.>>Keep your eyes peeled for a new post, Matt's leaving for four days, and as you may recall, this didn't bode well for eating well.

{June 13th: Anniversary}

Hot rods. Mustangs. Engines revving. Hot dogs, cotton candy, mullets, men in their glory, 50's music. YES. (Two weeks distance prior was probably worth it after our little get-away: see last post.)

Needless to say, Matt and I had a blast on the weekend of the 13th. We celebrated our first year of marriage in Hastings, MN at a charming B&B, then in the Twin Cities (Como Park, and IKEA!)

Thank you, M, for a wonderful surprise weekend!

[photo 1: Matt's favorite Mustang]

[photo 2: IBC rootbeer and hot rods; couldn't get any cooler]

[photo 3: a view of our charming room]

[photo 4: kissing a cute turtle]

[photo 5: pink flamingo's and the Kinnicks]

{Tales of an exaggerated feeler...)

Our one year anniversary is only weeks away. And yet, here I sit with my loving and sacrificial husband...918 miles away. He's in Colorado. Next week Canada. Neither scenario gives me time with him on the phone (well, hardly), nor Internet (at least next week).

Only hours ago I spoke to him. The reception cut my voice out so that he could hardly hear my questions. He sounded like someone had dragged him through a sitting of all the Anne of Green Gables movies for a week and had restricted him from coffee and shut eye. But at that moment, what I heard was absolute disinterest and unconcern for his sweet, caring, little wife.

"My dear poor sweet pizzle-pie....how on earth did you get through this day with all that work?! You should go to beddy-by. Don't mind little ol' me; I know you love me more than anything on earth. You just put yourself to bed....", gushed myself.

"mumble. Yah, I spose'. Swimming in those clear blue mountainous pools sure wore me out. Why don't you put me out of my misery and let me sleep?!" He muttered...(well, at least it seemed that way to me.)

"Oh, fine, dear. I'll talk to you in the morning...just remember: I lOVE you.", I smiled.

Snort. "Well, g'night." CLICK.

Before I know it, I've gently hung the phone up and tears have begun to stream down my face. Tears of love and sorrow.

Yeah, that sounds right.

Of course, I write this knowing you couldn't have heard how tired he was, or how hard he was trying. Or how much work he put in today. Or how snotty I may or may not have responded (in my head, at least). Or how I said goodnight with a dry tone...and selfish anger in my heart. And that I cried angry pity tears when I hung up. And wrote a selfish email (before I deleted it).

*sigh*. Basically, my husband is an extremely gracious, loving, and godly man. And I do not like having him so far away and unavailable and exhausted. Yet, I love that he said he was encouraged by the time and energy he is investing. And that he missed me (yes, he did say that). If I thought about it, I would recognize my confidence in his character, his love for me, and how the Lord is using him greatly in Colorado.

As I confide in my sister in law, I recognize that much of the drama in my head comes more frequently when I skip out on time alone with God. How does that happen? I figure its because my focus is on myself, and feeding myself the right kind of 'dosage'. Love, romance, food, tears. Ya know, like kids with candy when they need Aspirin. Except, we sugar coat the medicine. This time, I just need the Healer. And Provider. And Lover.

Lord, help me to seek you with all my heart. And to be an un-exaggerated wife and feeler who seeks to love and understand her husband well. And to get through the next week and a half!
*********************************************
[photos]

Minutes before I drove him to the airport...

Matt romancing me only a month before....

{the embarressing truth revealed}

OKAY, it's time. I'm too intimidated by blogs. This may be a clue to the fact that I tend to be a people pleaser. Alas, I've just finished checking out a few blogs, and I'm inspired.

What to write about? Binge eating. My husband left me to 'board' the mountains of Vermont. I have the home to myself (I know, for all of Friday evening through the dawn of Sunday morning, unbearable. What's a girl to do?)

Keep busy. Dinner with Lindsay, sleepover and breakfast with Katie, coffee with Joanna. In between? Catch up on all my to-do's of solitude (read, do art, spend time with God, do some work). Rather, what happened? A out-of-control-junk-food-fest. Even though I sensed an inner voice saying, "be self-controlled" in a soothing and quiet manner, My response was ignorance and rebellion. "well, in a bit, just ONE more chip..." Half a jar of cheese dip later, my stomach begins to protest with a rolling gurgle
.

[the evidence: Tostitos Cheese Dip]

After dealing with it, I take a two hour nap (flashback: in Bible study with the freshmen I confessed that I didn't want to neglect God's Word this week...this also popped into my mind as I moved onto different activities). Then I woke up and ate some Chocolate Panda Paw ice cream left over from last night. I was only going to have a spoonful, then go spend time in God's word. Before I know it, Loralie and Rory Gilmore have joined me with an open cart of quickly disapeering ice-cream.

[and of course the chocolate panda paws]

Needless to say, my self control is lacking. I need my husband around, then I can once again pretend I'm more healthy and better at proportions. And I just need him. Funny, he forgets to eat when I'm gone, and I...well, you know.

*sigh* At least I was inspired by the Word of God later. His grace is sufficient for me, that's for sure. And though I have suffered the consequences, I know that 'there is no condemnation for those in Christ Jesus'. Not even when it comes to stuffing your selfish, control-less, ignorant little face because you are lonely. I think I've decided that I'm not an introvert. Just a home-body.

(Don't worry, I didn't eat any more. I did art play (not work) instead and blogged).

[togetherness=happy and healthy]