Antique Gold

Monday, September 30: Share a photo of something old. Maybe something that has personal history for you, that was passed down to you, and that has special meaning to you. Tell us about it and why it's special.

Funny... as I look around my house, the only "old" things I really have are photos, and even then, they're only 31 years, at the most (whoa, that's kind of old, now that I think about it). The only thing in my house that is antique  - I know the prompt doesn't specifically say antique, but it's where my mind went - is a bottle of acrylic paint in my art supplies, labeled Antique Gold.

I don't have any heirlooms or antiques. I don't have my great-grandmother's china set or a brooch from the Great Depression. So, I'll deviate from the post a little bit to expand. :)

Thing is, when my parents moved to Texas from Michigan in 1971, they didn't bring anything. They left their possessions behind to follow God' call, much like Jesus' disciples did in the Gospels. They just loaded up in a VW bug, and moved states away, into unknown territory, with nothing but God's guidance, and each other. (And their Guinea Pig, Sebastian.) 

Then, they stayed in West Texas, and had five kids.

Growing up, we lived in furnished rectories (with a priest for most of my childhood, then to an unoccupied rectory when I was 9). We did accumulate furniture of our own, which was certainly needed as our family expanded (I don't think Monsignor James ever expected to share his house with a family of seven), but it was all handed down from people, or found at garage sales or thrift shops. I remember the first new piece of furniture that I remember being brought in to our house. It was a khaki and blue striped loveseat when I was in high school. It sits in my folks' living room today.

Make no mistake, I'm not complaining about any of it. I think it is beyond rad that my parents lived like true disciples, who were basically a group of hippies who loved and followed Jesus without being drugged or promiscuous. I think that it is a real testament of God's favor to look at the way they lived, and where we lived, and how we lived. We never lacked or wanted. We always had our fill.

But it was never with possessions.

**We did have plenty of those, though. We had video game systems and clothes and shoes and legos and video equipment and magic sets and Monopoly and such. We just didn't have much in excess. Though my dad would probably disagree - - - he would have been content to have nothing but books and records, a bed, a toilet, and a tub. He wrote a song about the latter three once. And my sister's and my room would get terrrrrrrribly messy, which means we probably had more clothing than we needed.**

All this said, because of my parents' vow of living a life of "Gospel simplicity," I don't hold on to things. I don't get very sentimentally attached to anything. Every time I've moved (14 since I graduated high school), I've gotten rid of at least a truckload (or 3) of stuff. We have nothing in storage, lots of empty drawers and closets, and only a few Rubbermaid tubs in the attic, which store Christmas decorations and clothing that I've kept for my kids as they grow.

And my life is not overrun with stuff. Though I do have a buuuunch of "stuff" still - art supplies and books, some stuff from childhood that I hung on to, crap that I've accumulated and don't know what it is or where to put it... though I still have more crap than a person needs (and more than I want, but just need to hunker down and sort through) I don't even care about stuff. At all.

(Lie alert - I do care about the kids' things, and about clothes and shoes. Just sayin.)

I do have quite a bit of sentimental memories from my kids - mostly art they've made, cards, report cards, the outfits they wore home from the hospital, their baptismal gowns... but that's pretty much it. I could (GOD FORBID) lose my house tomorrow, and, though it would royally suck to have to start over, the only thing I'd really miss is my box of photos and the memory boxes (which hold all those things I just listed) that I've started for my kids.

I'm sure if I really looked I could find something old. In fact, I do have the dresser we had when I was just a baby. It's in my daughter's room. It was cream and gold, shiny particle board with some broken drawers, could have been fixed and cute but I ruined it a while back by spray-painting it black. See? Not attached to things. Told ya.

Just for good measure, I'll leave you with this. Anyone guess what it is? It's old. And I inherited it from the lady who moved out of the house in which we currently reside. Well? :)




Peace!
J

To My Credit...

Wednesday, September 25: Write about a time you screwed up - a mistake you made. 

Oh, Lawd! Where would I begin?! Hahaha! If you've read, well, pretty much ANY of my previous posts, you know I've screwed up A LOT. 

Let's just say, for the sake of keeping it to a minimum here, that one of my biggest screw-ups ever (no, not what you think - not the getting knocked up, not the throwing my life in the toilet with drugs and booze, not the marriage struggles or anything crazy like that)... was getting a credit card my freshman year of college.

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That was the beginning of a lasting relationship which screwed me over again, and again, and again. And now inhibits me from buying a house. It's getting better. I've taken care of it bit by bit over the years. But still. Big mistake. Huge!

You hear me out. Credit card companies are EVIL! They prey on stupid 18 year old girls who are out of the house for the first time, broke, and hungry. All in the name of a free t-shirt!

A lesson for my children.
JUST SAY NO!!! :)

A Song for Husband

I decided to get vulnerable, here.
I don't claim to be an amazing vocalist. I know I'm not. (Though I regularly convince myself that Blake and Adam would turn around for me on the Voice. I sound really good in my bathroom.)

I play guitar OKAY. But I have a looong way to go, and honestly, I don't think I'm interested in going much further at this point. I can play the basic notes, and that's good for me for now. If I had some amazing person give me lessons for free, I'd take that, for sure. But right now, I have neither time nor money. So be it.

I don't intend on ever being on stage, though I'd be lying if I didn't say that owning some stage somewhere, or being THE lounge singer isn't one of my ultimate fantasies. Okay, I'm a liar. I want desperately to be on stage someday. In a band. I don't want to be lead singer. I basically want to be the girl in the Lumineers.

I just like to write music when the urge hits.
And then, that song is mine, so I like to sing it, too. 

I figured I'd better start putting them up, little by little, so that when my computer crashes and they're not backed up, my kids will have somewhere to see me when I leave them to meet my Maker. 

This is one I wrote for Geoff about a year ago.
(Video and sound quality is bad, too. I don't care to invest in fancy equipment, so it'll do, pig. It'll do. - I also mess up because I get stage fright. Even on the computer. Sue me.)

I Stand With You
Jessica Kelly

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tLcD2uZuNPQ

Filled to the Brim (and not quite trim...)

Monday, September 23: A "life lately" post. What you're up to, how you're feeling, how you're doing on your goals, etc. Bonus points for great photos!

Life lately. Is. Full. 
:)
Full of happiness and joy, sadness and grief, chores and school, cooking and cleaning and meetings and singing, crafting and travel. 

And I'm full. 

Not only physically. My healthy lifestyle jumpstart went down the drain the last few days, but I'll get back on track, one meal and one exercise at a time. 
 
Not only emotionally. I lost a good friend, and got to go to my first Texas Tech game of the year with some others. 

Much needed night with friends. :)

Not only time-wise. I was asked to play guitar for the church youth group this next Sunday, and played a couple Sundays last month. It is difficult to be the lone guitar, but I look forward to easing in to it, a couple Sundays at a time. I also started teaching CCE at my new church, and last week was elected Vice President of my daughter's new school's new PTO. They haven't had one in forever, and I think I was elected because I'd been involved in one recently. (((What. Have. I. Done. :) )))

And, I'm full!
So cheers to a full life!

On a side note, today I decided my window sill (big picture window that faces the street) needed to be full, too. And I needed to DO something to get my mind off my fullness.

Decided to make the most of Autumn and Fall out my house. And I'm SOOOO happy about it! (I also got 4 pumpkin spice candles and am burning them all. Fall-ready, much?!)

I took an empty frame that I already had (and that was already painted orange), and put some pumpkins and leaves and pine cones and acorns through the string, pinned it to the back of the frame, and hung it in my dining window. And I LOVE IT! 

I didn't stop there. I had almost everything I needed on hand (Mom, I used those cute orange lights you gave me... I wove them under the brown material I used on the sill. It looks SOOO cute with them lit tonight!!!). Material for the sill, some flowers, moss, rocks, vases. 

The window. Hard to get a good photo because it faces West, but it turned out so cute!

I needed some pine cones and pumpkins and leaves, so I headed over to the local Dollar General, and found some adorable Fall stuff for cheap, cheap, cheap. Score! 


I'm so excited about this window I can hardly stand it. So, you get a bunch of pictures of it. :)
Fall in to Autumn!!!

Put some stuff on a cheap tablecloth, and it made ALL the difference!

I <3 AUTUMN!!!

P.S. Mom, I also put the mirror you brought me up on my mantle, and put my 4 little pumpkin spice candles in front of it. It's adorable! 

God bless!
J

Don't forget it. Regret it.

REGRET. 

n. a feeling of sadness, repentance, or disappointment over something that has happened or been done.

Ugly word. 

Sad word.

Bad word. 

I can't tell you how many times I've been told something to the effect of "Everything you've done has molded you, shaped you, made you into the person you've become. Never regret anything."

See? You can find one thousand just like these all over Google images:

Adorable, catchy, simple, cute... but true?

Mostly good advice. Mostly...

Lately I've been in some deep philosophical conversations with myself (and a couple times with a dear friend) about the topic at hand, and, to put it intelligently, I call bullcrap. 

Everyone has regrets.

Regret (the concept, not actual regrets that I carry) has been weighing heavily on my mind as of late. 

It's looked upon as such an ugly and negative word. 

It evokes feelings of sadness and doom. 

And so, we're told not to do it.

"Don't regret anything. Everything you've done has made you who you are today."

Image

In one of the more humiliating confessions of my life, I decide - after one glass of wine - to tell you that I was arrested for shoplifting when I was 18 years old. Shoplifting.
Clothing.
From JCPenny. 

I was supposed to be headed to Padre or something for Spring Break with some college girlfriends, and instead I decided to be a moron and push the limits of the law.
I have NO IDEA why I did that. 

It causes me great humiliation when I think about it. 

I didn't need the shirts I decided I'd take.
I even had money in my wallet.
But I did it.
And I got caught.
And arrested. 

And... to this day, I can tell you with great certainty that I REGRET THAT. 

I do not sit up at night and weep about it. 

I don't roll myself into a ball and rock in the corner of a dark room.

I rarely even think about it. 

But when I do, I regret it. 

The regret is there not to hold me down, to imprison me, or to inhibit me from having a good and happy and full life. It is there to do just the opposite.
It is there to free me from temptation. It is there to serve as a painful sting any time I even consider pushing the limits of the law. 

It is there to serve as a reminder.

"Jessica. Don't do anything stupid. Remember that time you tried to steal $50 worth of t-shirts, and ended up in a metal cell with a crack-head named Muffin? Remember when the policeman that arrested you from the mall knew your dad and then lectured you on what an embarrassment you were to your family's name all the way to the jail? Oh, and then that other officer that booked you and asked if you were the Deacon's daughter, then shook his head and said "Good preacher. Good man. Shameful. Right thumb."? 

Remember those things, stupid. 

And REGRET how STUPID you were. 

Use that regret to fuel you to never do anything that stupid again. 

Don't speed. Wear your seat belt. Don't jaywalk. 

(You might think I'm going overboard with the jaywalking thing, but spend one night in that filthy and cold place, where prostitutes are brought in and booked as "regulars", and Muffin awakes from a crack nap only to ask you if you're going to eat your grits. THEN tell me that I'm a pansy for never wanting to end up there again.)

You'd better BELIEVE I regret it! 

Not just the "getting caught" part.
I regret it because it was wrong. And cheap. And dishonest.
And because my dishonesty has threatened jobs I've had in the past.
And because I am the last person I'd ever consider to be a thief, but my background check shows different.
And because it was a weak character flaw and youthful and pathetic "push the envelope" move. 

It did not make me who I am today. It did not mold me. It made things difficult and embarrassing for me and my family. And if I could take it back, I would.

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In the interest of being terribly candid, lets see... what else do I regret? 

I never regret placing my son for adoption. Never. Not one single time.
But I regret very much that I ever put myself in the position to have to make such a difficult and life-changing decision.
My little shoulder devil says "Don't regret that."
Then my little shoulder angel says "Use that regret as fuel. Teach your children not to put themselves in the position to ever have to make a decision so hard. Tell them about your regret, why it's there and what put it there, and make sure they know that it is avoidable." 

The regret of that part of my life does not sting anymore. It does not pull me down. It does not even hurt.
It drives me. To DO something, to prevent someone else from being pregnant and scared, to provide information and experience. 

I regret that I didn't visit my friend the last couple times I was in Austin, and now suddenly she's gone.
This regret is the freshest, and currently still painful, and one of the main forces behind this post.
I know that we never know the last time we'll see or talk to someone. I know that I was really busy, and I was only there for one night, maybe two. It was a family vacation, it was a quick trip, blah blah blah. I have one thousand justifications.
And ten thousand tears of regret.

This particular regret is one that will sting for some time to come, but it will also build me to love more, to slow down, to take the time to send cards and make phone calls. The regret I feel about neglecting my friend is one that will drive me to ensure I don't make that mistake again.

I regret dropping out of college a gillion times before finishing,
outfit choices (yeah, why no one told me I looked like barney in floral pants is beyond me, but at least I know I'll never wear that again),
boyfriends (I had a couple doooozies, who in no shape or form made me a better or wiser person - and whose influence only prodded strings of more regret),
the way I treated some of the Freshman girls in High School,
some stupid decisions I made in my early 20s, 
blowing my credit as a teen.
some (lots) of the things I've said to my precious husband and children in a hormonal frenzie. 

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I believe whole-heartedly that, had I never done some of the stupid things I'd done, I'd have wound up pretty much the same person, only lived a bit easier, and a bit better. I'd still be creative and occasionally witty. I would still have a beautiful family. I'd still have a degree, have less-than-flattering freak-outs when I can't find something to wear, have friends, I would still have a past full of fun memories... 

I'd only have a lot less scars.

Now, don't get me wrong. I don't hate that I'm scarred, and on the other side I don't wish regret on anyone. I simply believe it is necessary for every person, at some point in his life, to examine his regrets and share them so that maybe, someday, someone somewhere can avoid living with the same "should'a, would'a, could'a."

I will never look my children in the eye and lie to them, saying "I don't regret a thing."  

Can't you see it?

Mom: "I don't regret a single thing, kiddo."

Kid: "Oh, really, Mom? You don't regret not having the money to put me through college because you blew your life savings on a face lift and a yacht?"

Mom: "No, honey, I don't. I don't regret that, because my decisions made me who I am today. And your $40,000 student loan debt made YOU who YOU are today!" 

Of course, my conversation would be quite different (mostly because at this point my life savings could only buy the yacht, and I don't want a face lift).

I hope I have the guts to give it to my kids, fo' real.

They will know that I made mistakes, and that I did things that I wish I had never done. 

They will know that I forgave myself, and healed from those mistakes, but that many of them were long, gruleing, hurtful healing processes - and that the healing was only possible through my relationship with God.

They will know that some choices I made would, for years to come, riddle me with embarrassment or pain. 

They will know that there is no molding or shaping that some decisions bring, but only scars.
They will know how important it is to hold your tongue, and never say something you don't mean. 

They will know that the worst kind of regret is when you inflict pain on someone else's heart.

They will know that you MUST learn from your mistakes. But you also MUST regret the bad ones. 

They will know that, in order to not repeat the past, you have to remember that parts of it STUNG.

I am not proud of many parts of my past.
But I'm also not afflicted by them.

God has given me healing, and His Grace has given me the power to turn my regret into something that drives me to do better and love harder and forgive and forget and warn my children about the dangers that stupid decisions bring. 

I don't regret every stupid thing I've ever done. Lots of those stupid things were innocent and fun, or even not-so-innocent, and not-so-fun. But gosh, if I regretted everything stupid I've done... I'd never have a spare second to laugh. :) Haha! 

Hahaha! See?

And so, here is my long-winded lesson.

Live life to serve, to love, to dance, to be joyful, to get to Heaven, to get those around you to Heaven. Give thanks at the end of each day. Forgive - others, and yourself.

And when you screw up a little, look back and say "dang, that was stupid."

And when you screw up a LOT, regret it. Forgive yourself. Ask for forgiveness. Get over it, and regret that you were ever so stupid. 

Never allow it to depress you, to weaken you, to lessen you. But instead, let it prod you, mold you, push you toward greatness in the future. Use it to nourish and strengthen your character and deepen your relationships, making you a better spouse, parent, sibling, child. 


When it comes to regret, don't lose it. Use it.
If you don't regret it, you'll forget it. And some things should not be forgotten! (Others should. Go ahead and just forget those ones...)

In the most wise words of Henry David Thoreau, "Make the most of your regrets; never smother your sorrow, but tend and cherish it till it comes to have a separate and integral interest. To regret deeply is to live afresh." 

Peace,  and may your regrets of yesterday be your life afresh tomorrow!
J

Ermernder

Wednesday, September 18: Only photos

Today is actually September 20. Or maybe the 21st, if it's after midnight. I'm a few days behind.

I looked at the last 3 days of Blogtember, and decided that the 18th is the one I wanted to post. Except I'm giving the photos a written prelude, so I'm breaking ALL the rules today.

Yesterday morning I got the news that an old friend passed away.
She was beautiful.
We met in the dorms at Texas Tech (lived across the hall from each other), and were friends right away.
I think it's rare to find someone you really love, and stay in touch with years to come.
But she was my friend.
And we were connected.
Thirteen years later, on Monday September 16, she was taken too early, at 31 years old.

I have so many good memories with her.
She loved 80s music. She carried around a silk blankie affectionately dubbed her "Luh," which she'd smell or hold when she was nervous or just, whenever, really (it sounds silly, but it was actually a pretty cute character trait). She LOVED Texas Tech. She was brilliant, and had "smart people" jobs, as I've named them. Her laugh was the most infectious... loud, funny, contagious. She looked on the bright side, and was sweet... but fiery if you crossed her! Small but fierce, she worked her way in to my heart.
We lived hours apart, but still, friends.
And I will miss our hours of phone conversations terribly.

I love you, my dear Ermernder.
Rest your pretty little head, and your pretty little heart.
Until we meet again.

TTU dorms, 2000. Our first TTU game as Raider Freshmen.

TTU reunion!

In Austin

Austin. Love, love, love you my sweet, sweet friend!

Memories...

Tuesday, September 17: A memory you would love to relive.

There are many memories which, if given the chance, I would relive. I chose just a few and decided to give this blog to you in a series of photos. 

Any family vacation we took in the Magic Bus. I'd keep a journal.

Whatever it is my bestie and I were laughing at here. I'd make a mental note, or write it on the back of this photo (once developed). It had to have been very good.

Walking down the grassy aisle.

Making big promises.

Our first dance as the Kellys.

This moment, standing behind the stage with my husband and the Flaming Lips, as they finish their Pink Floyd tribute at FPSF.

The moment of nervous excitement and anticipation just before I was checked in to give birth to any of my children.

Meeting my children... the first moment of seeing the face that grew inside my body for months. (Though reliving labor? Yeah, NOTSOMUCH!!!) - This is Linnie

Our Number1.

Any moment that allows me to see this face. (Our sweet baby boy, 3 months old)

Or this face. (Linnie, brand new born. Probably the prettiest baby ever as a newborn. Has her "Guns Up" and everything.)

This moment. When #1 was so little, and Uncle Larry introduced her to magic.

Any moment like this. (#1 and Daddy, watching horses.)

My children learning to read.

Looking through pictures made me wish that time machines were real. I'd go back in time and give my first a thousand kisses. She grew up too fast!

I put too many here, but there are many, many more. Memories with family, friends, holidays, travels. Man, how blessed are we?! Today I just thank God that I have  a history filled with memories that I would actually want to see again. What a blessing!

Peace.
Jessica

My dear, dear Target...

Monday, September 16: Write a public love letter to someone in your life. (It doesn't necessarily need to be romantic.)

Dear Target, 

I love you, and I miss you.

You were the cause of many emotions for me for many years, and I'll never forget the role you played in my life.

I laughed with you, I cried with you. I got ecstatic when you gave me wonderful sales and new clothes, and you caused me heartache when your new lines didn't quite flatter me. 

You gave me incentives to lose weight, and loved me even when I had to go up a size. But no matter joy or sadness, you never moved. On a good day, you were there. On a bad day, you were there. Unmoving, only getting better with time. 

Remember when you installed the dollar aisle?! Oh man! What a great day that was! It changed all my family holidays and daughter's school projects and gift giving and parties! I won't know what to do without it! Dollar Tree just isn't the same (though I do find myself going in there to spend five dollars and walk out spending thirty. Haha! I know you'll get a kick out of that. That's a great memory we share. *sigh*)

Nothing will ever compare to the rush that you gave me, unless we get an Ikea nearby, and even then, their clearance endcaps will never give me the thrills that you did. 


The old song tells me "if you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with." But Bealls and Penny's, Wal Mart and Alco... there is no one who can ever compare to what you were to me. 

I believe in my heart that we will reunite one day. Until then, stay strong and make someone else happy in my place. 
 
You never really know what you've got until it's gone. 

Love,
Jessica

You had me at hello, Target. You had me at hello.

Jogs and Dogs

That moment that you realize that workouts, even as simple as a half-mile walk, are going to leave you in tears until your kids are in school.

Yesterday I did pretty good. I didn't get a work out or walk in. I should have done it first thing, but didn't. I don't know why. I folded all the laundry then ran several errands, and then, before I knew it, school was out and it was crazy time.

Right?!

I had eggs and one piece of toast for breakfast, a Core for lunch, and a little pasta for dinner - about a cup - with homemade sauce with green beans and spinach in it. Fell off a bit when I went crazy on some banana pudding with bananas and Nilla wafers. It was really, really good. Hey, I'm not trying to lose 30 pounds in a month.

I'm shooting for a realistic healthy. A healthy that includes me being active, eating right 9 times out of 10, and occasionally eating popcorn and nachos at the high school football game. Oh, yeah, I did that, too.

Then, I relaxed and enjoyed the rest of my evening.

True story.

Today is a new day, and I woke up determined for it to be better.

So, I went on a walk.

I mapped a half-mile block. "Perfect," I told myself. "I can just walk that block route four times and get in two miles, and if I have to cut it short, or if the kids get fussy, I'll still be close to home. Simple!"
  
I put the baby in the stroller, the dogs on the leashes, hooked Jake (my little Lab mix rescue) to the stroller and let my boy walk Marve (our new lil Corgi pup). Mistakes. All of it. 

I jogged much of the first half-mile, mostly because my dog pulled me. That was good, and I honestly appreciated his not-so-gentle prodding.

But baby started screaming halfway through, and two dogs on leashes, with a stroller, was just stupid.

"Okay, you got this," I said to myself. So I dropped Jake off in our backyard, and was going to hit the trail again.

Psyche. My boy threw a fit because he didn't want to sit in the stroller. He refused to move.

I lost my cool, in my neighbor's driveway.

I yelled "THIS IS WHY I'M FAT! I can't go on a walk for FIVE MINUTES! Can you PLEASE just GET IN THE STROLLER so I can WALK FOR ONE BLOCK!?

You have THREE SECONDS. ONE. TWO."

He started walking, and got in the stroller. That's what I call a win-fail.

The kids and Marve were perfect for the next 3/4 mile walk. (I extended it because they were being so good.)

Until the strays showed up.

We were antagonized by a black Husky, and a huge brown Pit. 

I'm not a Pit hater. I used to have a mix before someone stole him.

But when they're following me and my kids, and my puppy... momma bear came out.

I'm pretty sure I looked like this.

A nice man tried to help me around them by spraying them with his water hose, which gave us a chance to get ahead, but they caught  up.

They weren't threatening or anything... they were just dogs I don't know. And, though I think people should not hate Pit Bulls... I also don't trust a stray I don't know. And I was ready to fight.

I kept having to stop and get them away, which I'm sure served as quite a hilarious spectacle for anyone watching me.

Imagine a chubby girl in workout pants, with two kids in a stroller, a Corgi on a leash. I'm standing in the middle of the street yelling "NO. GO." Pointing my finger, shooing with my arm, kicking my feet at them (not kicking them, just shooing them), then walking back to the stroller, walking quickly without running so they don't start chasing me, talking out loud like those stupid dogs could hear me, "I don't know you. You can't just come up on us. I'm going to kick you in the face if you mess with my kids or my dog, so just go away." Yeah, classy. I know.

I get home, put Marve in the back, and tell Aidan to go inside with Linnie (my A#2). The dogs are still creepin' my 'hood, so I call them over and attempt to check tags so I can at least get them home.

They won't let me.


Aidan comes outside.


I send him into the garage.


Adeline is screaming bloody murder, like she likes to do when she's upset, inside the house.


Try to check tags again. Fail. Shoo dogs away.


Get Aidan and try to go inside the house.

.

Linnie is on the other side of the LOCKED door, screaming and trying to get out.


I try to calm her and get her to unlock the door. Fail.


Prayer. More like a scream, but still. "LORD. GET US IN!"


Check back door. Open. THANK GOD!


So, all in all, I did break a sweat today. I walked 1.26 miles. THAT didn't break the sweat, however. The getting home and being locked out and messing with strays did. Awesome. 

I called Geoff, crying. I told him that what I need to do, what I want to do, and what I CAN do, are all completely different things. He told me to just do what I can, a little every day. Then, he told me to see if I can find a weight bench on Craigslist, because I've been trying to convince him for a couple months that I will use it. He's trying to be encouraging, and I'm so grateful that he lets me cry and vent without thinking I'm a dramatic loser... or at least without saying it out loud.


Looks like eating right is going to be the key, because it is the ONLY thing I can control. And I have trouble even controlling that.

Going to be a long road for this chubby girl. A long, screaming, crying, stray-shooing, kid-coaxing, losing it in neighbors' driveway kind of road. But I'm going to keep walking it. Even if it means have to stop every thirty seconds.

Yes.

Peace,
J

One I Love: My Sister

Today is a special day for me. It is the day, 36 years ago, that Fiona Apple was born.

Just kidding. She really was born today, 36 years ago, but Criminal or not, she's not the reason for this post.

One I love: My Sister.

This is from me to her, Rachel Helene. 

Our family trip to New Jersey - my dad's homeland, and New York City.
Twin Towers, which trips me out and makes me really grateful that my dad always made us pose awkwardly,
and always took really, really great pictures.

Growing up, I idolized my sister.
What little girl wouldn't idolize a big sister who played school with her,
shared her clothes with her,
shared a room,
cried with her when it was time to clean said room,
taught her how to make funky cursive and block and bubble letters,
dressed her up for "photo shoots,"
taught her songs,
read to her,
helped teach her to read,
took care of her,
loved her?

My sister did all of those things, and more.

Dress up. She got the cute tutu, but I didn't mind, I don't think.

I wish I had that sketch portrait of myself. She put me in a dress and brushed my hair and everything!

I don't remember fighting often. In fact, I don't think we ever really fought at all. We shared a room, which was the cause of much angst for her in her teenage years (no privacy, a tattle-telling little sister who I'm sure she had to scoot around, but who probably also kept her from having the freedom to make some stupid decisions...). But it was fun for me. I loved having her there, and when she moved off for college, I was so sad!

I probably only entered my drawing in the Arts Festival contest because she did.
(Notice, however, that I'm the one that got first place. Yessss. ;)  )

She scoffed at me sometimes. (By sometimes, I mean all the time.)
"Rachel, can I wear your blue turtleneck?"
"Jeska, ugh." (Say that as fast as you can, and you might have it.)
But she always said yes.

I'm the one pinching your head. She's got the lampshade haircut. We seriously had - have - the coolest family EVER.

She made snacks for us after school from time to time. Probably on her own accord - I'm sure she asked our mom if she could, and my mom was quick to say yes. Imagine... apples and oranges, sliced in perfect wedges, arranged in a color-patterned circle on a plate. Yep, that's my sister for you. At age 10. (And she still does those cute things, just more fabulous now. She's an incredible hostess.)

She taught me how to fix my hair, how to dress appropriately, how to stand up straight (or maybe I just learned it because I had to watch her put her back brace on and off each night.)

She held her head high when she started a new school, in a new town, in 7th grade, wearing new braces and a back brace. I can't imagine how she managed that with grace.

She taught me how to cheer. And also how to not be annoying. (But I'm pretty sure I'm the one who tried to teach her to do a cartwheel.)

She warded off creepy guys at the bar. She was so fun and adorable, but if a creep approached, she'd look at him, say "Ugh, NO." And grab my arm and pull me away. Hahahhahahaahah! She's so tough and hilarious!

Finally old enough to go out with her. And my hair was permed. Nice.
(This was her apartment, where she'd let me and my high school friends crash on the weekends. Cool sister.)

She stood with me at my wedding, and didn't even think twice about wearing a dress of yellow daisies (which fortunately looked really, really cute on her because she's adorable). 

Wedding day. She made the reception run without a hitch.

She is the most thoughtful person I know (other than our mother - whose personality she has, almost exactly.) She sends these amazing "thinking of you" packages that always seem to arrive at just the right time. Sometimes, it's as small as a card, a $5 gift card to Chick fil-a, or something I left at her house. Other times, a package of all kinds of notecards and cards and envelopes and pens for her Goddaughter, my eldest daughter, so that she can write her old friends now that we're in a new town.

My favorite was a package she sent to help me with my weight loss goals. Oatmeal, Clif bars, gum, deodorant, flavored almonds... I mean, what real life person DOES that? :*)

 
When one of my friends is looking for a job, Rachel searches online in her spare time.

When someone is going to Austin, even if she doesn't know them well, she opens her guest room. 

Taking me downtown Austin. I think this is the night I told her I was struggling bad,
and we ended up in tears in a cafe at like 4 in the morning with Sarah,
a few months before I got pregnant with our second. .
I don't know why my shoulder is doing that.

She is the one I called first when I found out I was pregnant with the child I placed for adoption. She loved me, she calmed me, she stood with me, no matter what.

She is the one I ran to after I had him. I stayed with her for two weeks, and she loved me, and cared for me, and took me to the doctor when something was wrong and I wasn't healing properly.

We flew to New Jersey one year for our cousin's wedding. She sat middle on all the flights so I could nurse 4-month old Aidan.

Toasting to the good life in New Jersey.

I don't know if everyone feels about their big sister the way I feel about mine. I hope so.

I imagine that my oldest daughter treats her little sister much as my sister treated me. And that makes me not only proud of my girl, but also very, very happy for her little sister. 

I prayed that God would give Annie a sister. And I'm beyond grateful that Adeline has a big sister as beautiful and loving as mine!

Laura's 30th birthday blackout.

Rachel Helene.
My sister, and one of my best friends in the world! I'd be a totally different person without you (meaning I'd probably be a bit of a loser.)

I love you! Can't wait to grow old together, and ward off creepy men at a Senior's Spa when we're wrinkled and grey!

Love
J