Early mornings.

At the beginning of the semester, we’ve were both surprised (and grateful) to each have just the right job fall in our laps. We couldn’t have asked for a better situation—Andrew gets to work off-campus doing what he loves, and I get to work on-campus doing what I love. Since then, every Tuesday and Thursday we would peel our eyes open at 6am—throw some clothes on, Andrew would drop me off at my office and he would start the two-hour trek to his tree-climbing, arborist sort of job. This was reasonable—though since Daylight savings we are now rising at the ungodly hour of 5am—(it’s still dark, mind you!) and I now sip on my coffee with bloodshot eyes as I sort my e-mails. I write all of this because as much as I have appreciated the thought of early morning—a good start to the day—I have never been a morning person. There have been times in my life in which I was required to be one, but not necessarily out of choice. For the last 6 years I’ve been in the restaurant business, mostly as a server—requiring late hours and therefore late mornings. It has become my lifestyle habit. 

In the spirit of thankfulness.

This week has proven to be a bit more of a struggle than the previous ones. There was quite a bit of homework due, and the house seemed to need extra attention with cleaning, but these things are ongoing and I’m used to them by now. What made this week particularly difficult relates to my health. 

When I was 15, after working a summer camp I came home drained, and as usual, got sick. Nothing new. However, after my fever had passed and my obvious symptoms started to go away—there were feelings of illness that did not. Fast forward months and months of Dr’s visits, blood tests, researching, tears, attempted medications, and frustration—the Dr diagnosed me with Fibromyalgia—of course, this couldn’t be proven beyond my continual symptoms and ruling out everything else. Since then, we’ve been treating it as such and life has gone on. I do what I can to relieve the pain and help my body with its poor immune system and such, but in the end, it will always be there. In a way, I’ve become extremely used to it—I rarely even feel the muscle pain anymore unless it’s a really bad day. I’m used to feeling excessively tired and not getting the best sleep all the time. And I antipate the migraines by having Liquid Advil on hand at all times. It’s become part of my lifestyle and I rarely view it as a separate condition or a handicap. In my opinion, everyone gets aches and pains every once in a while—mine are just a bit more consistent and harsh.

The love of old things.

Growing up, I found it necessary to veer away from the things that my Mom loved lest I grow up to become identical in personality. Not that I disapproved of my Mom’s person, but I desired to be my own individual—classic firstborn independence. Naturally then, I loathed the various historical field trips, long ventures to Goodwill, and neutral colored sweaters. Ironically enough, I found myself taking my Mom to a historical site for her birthday, telling my husband that I wanted to invest in more neutral sweaters, and becoming giddy as I anticipate my next trip to Goodwill. Turns out, I’m a lot more like my Mom than I originally planned on—and for that, I’m extremely grateful. She taught me to appreciate certain things in life, specifically the art of thrifting, and as a result Goodwill is a huge benefactor to my current inspiration and provider of materials for future projects.

A word on thrifting—it is great.

Where I’m from, people thrive on thrifted goods. Not necessarily for financial reasons, but also for the beauty of unique and reusable objects. Granted, the area is lot more “hipster”—so thrifting is essential for random, artsy finds. I define my likes as towing the line between that and classy—or attempting to be—so I suppose you could say that thrifting is “necessary” (my husband might beg to differ). 

When I said "yes!"

Exactly one year ago, today, Andrew asked me to marry him on a random road, on a North Carolina mountain overlooking a ravine splashed with the colors of fall.

It’s amazing to look back and think on what has happened since then—well, now we’re actually married and life has never been better. I knew then that I was saying yes to adventuring through life with my best friend, and a few months of marriage has only proved that to be more than true.

A word on legal, addictive stimulants.

A cozy arm-chair, window seat, rain or shine, low murmurs from ongoing conversations, “artsy” music playing in the background, the sound of beans grinding and the smell of fresh brews, laptop open but ignored, industrial furniture, green walls against brick, local photography, “Number 31!”—Life frozen for a few peaceful moments as I stare out the window at those whose life continues on.

This is what I think of when I hear the word, “coffee.”

I automatically envision myself sitting at one of my favorite cafés, Prince St. or Folklore, with a specially designed mocha in hand. These memories do not contain life-altering events that plague my memory, rather they are remembered fondly—full of solitude in the city, good music, inspiration, and a fresh cup o’ Joe.

Our other, other home.

I find myself completely uninspired this week in regards to journaling or anything else really. My brain has been singed by the overworking of designing boring things like business cards and logos, vain attempts to understand the Metaphysical realm in Philosophy class, and trying to keep the sink from overflowing with dirty dishes. All scenarios resulting in a withered mind lacking inspiration to exert anything other than what is absolutely required. Someone had a brilliant moment in placing the Northland Day of Rest at this precise point in the semester—it’s extremely needed. My man and I are celebrating by spending a long weekend with good friends from church, with some time to relax and do a bit horseback riding (and of course, I forgot my camera). 

Wedding film.

Folks, not to be proud, but this is a wedding film must-see! Our videographers, Kent and Ashleigh (soon to say “I do” as well) did nothing other than a fantastic job in capturing moments from our wedding day. Kent is also the man behind our engagement pictures (one of which is shown above), you can find our favorites in this post.

Our wedding video can be found here at Kent Mast Exposed, while it is featured on his website.

Enjoy!