Sleepy Snowed-in Saturday
Wherein telephone lines and plum trees become things of beauty…
Category Archive: Uncategorized
A Tennessee Farm Wedding
Daniel Meigs has posted images from Andrew and Jenny’s wedding. Go check them out!
Today I am grateful for…
1. Kisses from my seven-year-old.
2. A dinner/movie/watch-the-storm-roll-in date with my husband from last Saturday.
3. A soft white dog who licks up crumbs and chases yard bunnies.
4. Remarkable grace from Christ that covers all my sins.
5. Free ice cream from the Schwann’s man and Runza.
**I’m reading Ann Voskamp’s One Thousand Gifts with women from Redeemer this summer. In the midst of transition, when I’m tempted to complain about the hard things, I’m reminded to consider all I’m thankful for. It’s hard to be a big grouch when you realize how incredibly blessed you are!
I Don’t Want to Be (Thank You, Gavin DeGraw)
A few years ago I came to terms with the fact that I am not an adventure seeker. If someone was to give me the opportunity to parachute out of a plane, I would probably not take it.
More recently I’ve realized that Jeremy and I are not the fixer-upper types. This may seem obvious to some, but as is often the case, I am a bit slower to understand this truth about my husband and me. We are not handy-people, home renovators, etc etc.
What are you NOT? And when did you get comfortable admitting it?
January Reflections: Handmade
Walking down my stairs makes me happy. It’s not the walking, it’s not the direction, and it’s most certainly not the stairs that improves my mood. It’s the recently acquired artwork.
A while back I decided that my house needs to represent me better and that it sure could use a splash of color on the walls. As easy as painting appears to be, it’s a challenge for us literally unhandy Tredways (if you don’t get that, I apologize—it’s another blog post for another day). What I wanted was artwork. Made by friends. I know a number of really creative, really talented people and I wanted their handiwork on my walls.
So, from my sister-in-law Kristin, a photograph. Emily, my childhood cat, lived her happiest years with Adam and Kristin. The image is the sweetest composition of Emily, basking happily in the sunlight on top of an armoire, and it sits above my desk, at the base of the stairs, for inspiration.
Then my friend Liz Estudillo Chaffee showed her work before leaving the states for a new job. I had spent the day at the last garage sale I will ever host—really, I mean that—and I ran my weary self over to the gallery with permission to buy an anniversary present for myself. Within minutes of walking by Liz’s paintings, I knew which piece I wanted and Liz even commented that she thought that one was for me. It’s companion piece resides with my friend Christina, which is a little fact that makes me happy. When a friend kindly hung it above our stairs, just opposite the front door, I felt for the first time that my house reflected me.
Kristin’s photo. Liz’s painting. And now, Collin Geldmeier’s work.
We have two very tall friends at church. Collin in the younger tall dude and he is a talented photographer. I’ve enjoyed viewing his work over the last year and I am so glad he answers my photography questions with grace and his characteristic laidback attitude. I was immediately attracted to the work he showed at the Redeemer gallery last summer and was thrilled when those pieces came into my possession. They are photos of winter scenes, from Colorado I believe, and they are perched above the window in our stairwell. Every time I walk past them I think, “Thank you, Collin.” They add quite a bit of elegance to such a small corner of the house.
I walk up and down this staircase a lot. When I do it with my eyes wide open, I find beauty from the handiwork of some awesome folks. Trust me, it’s much better than the blank walls that were there before. Much much better.
**This post is part of a series called January Reflections. It is hosted by Corrin of The Glorious Impossible and I’m doing it because I like to write but sometimes need a bit of prompting to do so.
Unkempt
The road to public embarrassment via pajamas is a slippery slope. I used to judge people who went out in public in their jammies. Yeah, I know, it wasn’t kind of me. But I couldn’t fathom how someone would go to the grocery store in their nasty sweatpants without even running a comb through their hair. As we all know, pride goeth before fall. I think I fell this morning.
Getting a kid ready for school is an interesting, somewhat rapid-fire process. I try to squeeze in every last minute of sleep that I can, and then it’s GO GO GO to the finish line at the door to kindergarten. The main objectives are as follows:
1) get kid dressed
2) feed kid
3) brush teeth, brush hair (always making sure to use the appropriate brush)
4) pack lunch
5) get to school on time
You didn’t see anything in that objective list about mom getting dressed or brushing teeth. And that’s where the slippery slope creeps in.
“Dressed” means to cover oneself. Points aren’t given for beauty in the early morning race, so there’s a wide option of how one can dress. And here you can see how I’m sliding already. Fleece jacket over pajama top (uh oh), comfy-pants-that-aren’t-sweats (at least that’s how I define them), shoes (flip flops were best, too cold for those now). I haven’t yet worn my slippers to school but I am tempted to do so EVERY DAY.
The “brush teeth, brush hair” objective seems like common courtesy, doesn’t it? For realz, how long can it take to swish some Colgate around one’s mouth? Too long some days. That ham sandwich isn’t going to make itself and those grapes aren’t just going to jump in the lunch bag. As long as I don’t get too close to the crossing guards, halitosis isn’t too concerning. Gross, but understandable, right? Right?
And so goes my morning five out of seven days a week.
But this morning, after completing the race and triumphantly climbing into the driver’s seat of my car, I glanced into the rearview mirror. And was slightly aghast. I think I brushed my hair, but truth be told, I looked like I had just rolled out of bed. Cow licks like nobody’s business. Mascara remnants under my eyes. The green fleece jacket swallowing all color from my makeup-less face. Yikes. The crossing guard didn’t need to get close to my breath, my physical presence alone could’ve knocked her over!
Clearly I have two options for the days from here on out. I can either start laying my own clothes out the night before and maybe, just maybe, wake up a few minutes early as a public courtesy. OR… I can go the full monty and walk into school in curlers and slippers in a matching pair of Hanes sweats.
Working Girl
I sit at my own booth, the yellow breakfast platter before me is now empty while a mug of coffee sits, full, just to my left. For too long now I’ve read while listening to someone else’s conversation, my mind only half-heartedly focused on the material on the page. The conversation is interesting, but my goal in coming here was not eavesdropping. So I move on and start up my computer, plug in my headphones and start to write. But, wait a minute, I can’t write while listening to Patty Griffin apparently. I thought her music was unfamiliar enough to become background noise, but it’s not. So classical then. Again no, not going to work at all. I’m one of those folks who is way too aware of—and thus distracted by—background music. Shoot. Now I’m listening to the dude on the phone behind me.
Oh, the life of a freelancer at the “office.”
I love it.