Monday, Monday ...

I don't particularly enjoy Mondays. I just love the weekends sooo sooo much.

Generally, I am pretty grumpy on Monday mornings, and even more so today because I am completely behind with school and I actually need to be ahead because on Thursday I am going to be here for 4 days.

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I have a cozy chair in my bedroom that's nestled underneath my window and beside my bed. I push an ottoman out in front of it and sprawl out most of the day on Mondays and Thursdays. It's the best place to think and read, but not so great to write (this might be why my back hurts all the time).

The last couple of weeks I've been watching a bird throughout the days I spend on my chair. She has a nest in the tree that's just an arms length from the window sill. She's spent so much time in her nest recently, I knew she must have babies on the way.

They hatched today. I heard them. A very quiet, mysterious crack and then an eruption of shrill chirps. They are so incredibly tiny and I want to just sit and watch them, but Mama is nervous. Every time I get up to watch her fed them, she ruffles her short feathers and hops around a lot, casting me irritated, sideways glances. So I'll have to be content to just listen, today.

Maybe I'll catch a better glimpse tomorrow.

Tend to your Soul

When for too long I don't go deep enough into the woods to see them, they begin to enter my dreams. Yes, there they are, in the pinewoods of my inner life. I want to live a life full of modesty and praise. Each hoof of each animal makes the sign of a heart as it touches then lifts away from the ground. Unless you believe that heaven is very near, how will you find it? Their eyes are pools in which one would be content, on any summer afternoon, to swim away through the door of the world. Then, love and its blessing. Then: heaven.  

{The Faces of Deer | Mary Oliver}

Mission Statement

One of the classes I'm taking this summer is about clarifying your purpose, one's calling in life.  

For the instructor - purpose/calling/mission - are one in the same.

Through a long process of reading and testing and identifying different strengths and weaknesses, I am working on writing a mission statement, a clarifying mantra of sorts.

At first, I thought this exercise was a little silly, but now that I'm reaching the end of it, I see how valuable focus is.  Forcing yourself to really think about who you are and what you've been gifted with enables you to see what kind of change you've been called to effect.

Since I haven't actually written the statement yet, I can't share it with you.  BUT ... it will revolve around these three words.  

Resonate | to have an effect or impact, to influence, to engender support.

Illuminate | to make free from confusion or ambiguity; make clear.  A condition of spiritual awareness; divine illumination.  Tending to increase knowledge or dissipate ignorance.

Educate | to create by training and teaching.

Prose No. Three

There are too many times that I am restless.

Waiting for the coffee to brew, fingers tapping the countertop with impatience.

I worry that I will get trapped in these moments - repeat them a thousand times over.

Waiting for the coffee, waiting for the light to turn red, waiting for a phone call, waiting for my pink fingernail polish to dry, waiting in line at the supermarket, waiting.

When what I really want is to be doing.

Note to self: Do not wait too long to do.

Prose No. Two

There are people I know {or have known} that I wish to be more like.  

But none as much as my youngest sister, Rebecca.

She who is patient

She who is quiet {now} more often than she speaks

{although it was not always so, and I liked her just as much when she was a wild, belligerent tumbleweed}

She who is a peacemaker and keeper

She who is fair and honest

She who is a Pandora's box {in a good way} of surprises

She whose heart is tender and spirit is gentle

She who is unaffectedly childlike and wise

 {although I suspect she is unaware of this}

She who sings like the lark outside my bedroom window

She who is as lovely as the sun setting in the summer sky

She who is Rebecca.

Prose No. One

She thought it might be okay to find grace in small delights,

joy in the days of small things.

These things made her smile:

the rise and fall of a sleeping cat's belly

the sound of night

the smell of the magnolia tree

Drugstore Recessionista Picks

In general, I really do feel that you get what you pay for. I don't care how inexpensive Cover Girl lipstick is, it will just not do for you what Nars or MAC or Bobbi Brown will do.

However, a recent concentration on being more thrifty sent me on a search for drugstore products that could rival what I usually purchase in department or specialty stores.

I hoped I would be satisfied with what I found; I didn't expect that I would actually prefer my drugstore finds to their more expensive counterparts.

But I swear to you, I do.

Here are the items I suggest you purchase immediately....

This shampoo/conditioner is good, not incredible. It's sulfate-free though, which is almost impossible to find in drugstores.

I love this face wash. It's gentle enough for my sensitive skin and doesn't feel overly drying. I broke up with Dr. Hauschka for Neutrogena, but Dr. H was just too dang expensive!

This is the best lip balm ever, hands down. Don't mess with $20 pots of clear gloss, just go spend $1.99 on classic Chapstick. It has to be the classic kind though, black label. The other kinds just aren't the same. I also like it because of how nostalgic it makes me feel. I used to find it in my dad's work pockets or on his dresser among loose change and tire parts.

I've struggled to find the right moisturizer for years ... and I found it at the drugstore. I use both the Positively Radiant and Ultra-Calming lotions. They are both great, and used in tandem (one in morning, one at night), phenomenal.

This might sound strange, but I wipe my face with alcohol at morning and at night. I used to see a facialist once a month to keep my stress breakouts under control. When I had to trim her out of my budget, I panicked. Turning to the internet for at-home remedies, I read about the benefits of alcohol for breakouts on the decolletage. And I decided to try it on my face. I can count on one hand the number of breakouts I've had since starting this practice. And if I do get a spot, I can usually take care of it by the next day. This is the single most fabulous trick I know of.

Now, go to Rite-Aid, or Fred Meyer, or Walgreens or wherever and stock up!