the itch.

Good gracious. I cannot see my toes. There's a jabbing pain in my rib from a teeny yet persistent pressure. My stomach and bladder are constantly ebbing me to do something (go to the loo, or eat some food). My hips and such are sore like I've run a marathon.

What's the deal? Baby Kinnick on her way.

8 months along

And have I got the nesting itch. The last couple of months in our new home has been evidence of this fact. I mentioned in my earlier post that I had painted...a lot. Here's a list, just for my own satisfaction of seeing it all.
Furniture: baby crib, dresser, two bookshelves, mirror, & two wall shelves.
Rooms: Kitchen & trim, bathroom & trim, dining room & trim (my Mom wallpapered and I painted it) (with the help of my Mother in law), baby room & trim (thanks to my Mom), downstairs hallway, upstairs hallway (along stairs), entryway, Matt's office.
Miscellaneous: painted a sort-of-triptic for the baby room, made four curtains from scratch, hemmed 8 (Ikea iron & hem), a baby mobile, & two headbands for baby
Needless to say, summer has flown!
{photos}:

baby mobile: baby's view from crib

flower = baby headband

Living room into dining room.

Dining room into kitchen

Dining room: wallpapered & painted

Bathroom: from greens to grey & white

Entry: still in progress! Thanks to Jonesdesigncompany.com! I love the idea.

Living room: new wall color & my hemmed curtains

Nearly 11 months later...an update.

Well, hello, blog! It's been awhile.

Life took me on the fast track, and here I am utterly shocked at how twists and turns can land you exactly....here. The last eight months have me in awe. Where have I been?

Well, in December Matt and I started praying about a move to the Midwest. So, come Christmas time we made a drive to Fargo, ND. We were told that it warmed up just for us. It was 9 degrees Fahrenheit. Then, after driving back to New York (with a detour to Texas and North Carolina), we prayed and prayed and felt God leading us to come to Fargo. January contained the news of a baby on the way. We were pregnant! February came with another visit to MN/ND and a house hunt begins. The snow was higher than our car in most places, making it difficult to get an idea of what Fargo was like.

June came and we packed up the truck and headed West. Twenty two hours later (all in one day) we drove to our destination with blood shot eyes, sore rears, and complete exahuastion. Soon we found ourselves nestled into our first house. Maxwell, a fluffy feline, found his way into our home and into our growing family.

Since then I've been 'nesting'; getting ready for baby. I've painted furniture, the living room, the dining room, the kitchen, the bathroom, two hallways, and am now looking at a few more painting projects before baby Kinnick comes. Garage sales, trips to see family, work trips, and many visitors later, I find that it's August and the school year has begun.

So here I am in my pajamas at 9:24 am (because I stayed up until midnight finishing the kitchen wall & dining room walls) attempting a beginning back into blogging. That is, until baby girl joins us. I imagine I'll be too pooped to...blog.

Later I'll post pictures of the transformations in our home & of my belly!

Until next time,

Lindsay Kate

December: Fargo, ND
Babbs Coffee Shop
Praying over a move to Fargo!

February: The house we now call 'home'. And a bit of snow.

July: the belly & I painting the kitchen

August: Maxwell the First. My boy.

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....