The grace that grounded me.

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At work last week, a few of us were discussing books, and I mentioned that at this moment my favorite book of 2014 is: “Mile Markers” by Kristin Armstrong. A colleague said oh, yes that is Lance Armstrong’s ex-wife. Of course I thought, duh. How did I not put two and two together? You would think her few mentions of her husband, Lance, in Mile Markers and her mention of Austin would have clued me in, but I was so enamored with her book that the connection never crossed my mind. By the end of our conversation one of my colleagues offered to bring in her copy of another Kristin Armstrong book: “Work in Progress: An Unfinished Woman’s Guide to Grace.”

Two nights ago I decided to crack it open, after some much-needed inspiration, and holy shit was I blown away. This is the first paragraph of the Introduction:

“You may have met, or know, a woman like this: She brightens a room, can literally alter the energy before she opens her mouth. Her presence alone is uplifting, her warmth is genuine radiance, and her eye contact feels like a gift. Her compassion and confidence are unshakable. She knows herself well enough to be able to get to know you. She has not pretense about herself, has no need to hide because she lives in truth. She has no need to exalt or deprecate others or herself, and this allows others the freedom to be authentic in her company.

She is the kind of woman who makes you check your posture, inside and out. She makes you want to think before you speak, not because you feel judged or compelled to impress her, but simply because she makes you want to be better. Her integrity draws others into the light. Her laughter is contagious. Her hugs feel so good you wonder how you can get another one without appearing needy. When she is happy, you want to celebrate with her. When she is struggling, you want to stand by her side. Come to think of it, anything with her would be fine.

Who is this woman? To me, she is a woman of grace.” page 1-2

Wow. If I could ever live up to that. I read that, and immediately had a woman in mind. Someone in my life that has always been an inspiration to me. While we have not been in touch as often these past few years, she has always been a role model to me. I can remember one time in college when I was struggling particularly with feeling like an orphan (my dad was around but not really existent in my life, my mom had passed on 5 years before). I remember I had hung out with her and her family (husband and precious little baby girl), and as I left she put her hand under my chin and looked into my eyes and said: “We love you.” Then she looked at me more intensely and said it again. I froze, and then started to cry. It was just what I needed to hear, but so hard to accept. She made me want to be better. She brightened the room, was so authentic and real, and exuded confidence, radiance, and her eye contact brought me to tears (in such a good way). She was the grace that grounded me.

I miss her.

100 Happy Days

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I have been seeing a ton of folks embark on 100 Happy Days, and I think it is time I joined them. I mean why not right? I know the next few weeks/months are going to be crazy for me, and so why not add another thing to the mix? I have been wanting to begin taking more pictures, and if I do this challenge, my Instagram connections might hate me after I show them how boring the next 100 days will be and how much I work, but oh well.

Have you heard of 100 Happy Days? It is a challenge that is meant to get you to share a photo of what made you happy that day for the next 100 days. They have set it up so you can share your photos publicly or privately, but the main idea is that you focus on what made you happy that day. Here are results from the challenge that were listed on their website:

“Start noticing what makes them happy every day:

  • Be in a better mood every day;
  • Be in a better mood every day;
  • Start receiving more compliments from other people;
  • Realize how lucky they are to have the life they have;
  • Become more optimistic;
  • Fall in love during the challenge.”

Often at the end of the day I will write in a journal, as a way to decompress from the day. (Really it starts with my run when I get home from work, and the writing comes just before bed). I process, explore, and resolve my world through the words that come out of my fingertips. There are moments of gratitude, moments of frustration, and moments of aha. 100 Happy Days will take it one step further to require me to notice those happy moments as they happen, and not as I recollect them at the end of the day.

Want to join me?

A little Ball jar…

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I grew up in Muncie, Indiana. Home of the Ball canning jar. You might be asking yourself, is she really going to blog about the Ball jar? Yes, I am. Keep reading, I have a method to my madness. I grew up in a town where everything was Ball. Ball Brothers, Ball Memorial Hospital, Ball State University, Ball Corp (maker of Ball jars). The Ball Family had their stake on my hometown.

Yet, there is a pride I feel when I see a Ball jar. These days with canning making a resurgence, and organic being the way of the world it feels like all I ever see are Ball and Kerr mason jars. I have quite a few in my house. We use them as glasses, I measure my water intake from the wide mouth version. I take it to my work meetings ensuring I will drink my daily allotment of water throughout the day. I use the smaller ones for concoctions for my hair (most recently cornstarch as my dry shampoo for my “no poo” adventures).

Wherever I go I encounter Ball or Kerr jars. If I ever have a choice, I go with Ball. Call me nostalgic, but there is something about supporting a family that kept your little town afloat for so many years. These days just take some time to explore Pinterest and you will see weddings, family affairs, dinner parties, all with use of the Ball jars in the way of food, flowers, candles, and party favor containers. It brings vintage to 2014. I love it.

Funny how something that used to live right in your backyard (now manufacturing happens in Broomfield, CO) to being a common, everyday item in households for more than just canning. Wikipedia states:

“Company headquarters moved from Muncie to Broomfield, Colorado in 1998. Ball no longer produces the glass fruit jar; the license to produce the jar now is owned by Jarden Home Brands. Jarden produces all lids for all brands of fruit jars at its Muncie plant. Jars are made by a variety of glass producers.”

Heck we have a mini version holding our toothbrushes in the bathroom. Vintage really has spanned all avenues. What was commonplace is now “in.”

Ball jars: the new wine glass.

Precious moments: dads + sweatpants

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Parents. Love them, hate them. You start life being inseparable with your mom (your dad too), but you are the clingy kid, as we grew up, we all went through phases when we loathed them, they got on our nerves, or we thought they were just not cool. Then you grow up, life happens you win some and lose some, and your parents mean something much different to you. I know I am not speaking for everyone, some have closer relationships, and some have nonexistent ones, still the circle of life continues to ebb and flow.

I can remember one time in high school, or it might have been college, arriving at the Indianapolis airport (back when someone could meet you at the gate), and my dad was there to pick me up. He was wearing these horrible sweatpants and white high top sneakers. These were not name brand (at the time I cared). Additionally as horrible was his sweatshirt and one of his trucker caps. Of course I was glad to see him, and grateful to be picked up from the airport, but I was embarrassed. This was the era of “wear my brand name on the butt” aka Guess jeans, ESPIRIT. It mattered to me at the time. I was horrified that I would see someone I knew and that they would judge me.

Now I just think wow, this lonely man, my dad, was probably so happy to see me and be with his daughter on my school break and I put up walls because I did not like his sweatpants (well to my favor, men + sweatpants + public = not a good idea). In any case, we cannot go back and redo life. I have that memory and it brings tears to my eyes for all the moments I missed out with my father.

I thought I would share two precious father/daughter moments to inspire you. Whether you are the father, or the daughter (or the mother for that matter), I hope it inspires you to cherish every moment with each other. Moments are precious. Make sure you burn the good ones in your mind, not ones with purple sweatpants (oh did I forget to tell you they were purple)? The first video is a dad who returns from Afghanistan and surprises his little daughter:

One more link, (also precious). It is to a photo slide show of a father/daughter in their home before they move. The mother died at 31 due to lung cancer and the photos recreate similar angles to the couple’s wedding photos in the same house. Definitely worth checking out, but get a kleenex first. Father/daughters are something special. Wish I could hug my dad today.