where have all the blog posts gone?

Cue that one Paula Cole song. Which is funny, because I've been listening to this:

I'm sorry for my absence. I'm actually not sorry as much to you, my sweet readers (or lack thereof), but more to myself. I love this little space. I write in it because it's my way of throwing open a window and breathing in fresh air. Which means that I have spent a fair amount of time twiddling my thumbs, wasting time, dreaming of the written word and not partaking in it. I'm not even reading very much. It's like my soul is tired.

I know, that's terribly dramatic, but actually not far from accurate. These last 9 months (how has it really been 9 months since I last wrote?) have been so hard. How do you halt a blog in the middle of its frivolity (of course it has had its moments of depth, but let's be real here...recipes and DIYs aren't really of soul-bearing nature) and talk about the death of my sister...and then pick the happy-go-lucky back up again? Well you can't really. I mean, I care about all these things. I care about my paragraphs about sweet nothings and my long drawn out ramblings about life. They're all so relevant, because dammit, life is NOT happy-go-lucky OR super emo all of the time. It's both, and.

So I want to resume, which is why I'm typing again. Besides the fact that I love it, my sweet sister would be disheartened to know I had pushed it aside. I'm thinking of giving her a different title though (the blog, I mean. She's a girl.) Suggestions? 

Since I last wrote, I have picked up and moved with my ever-loving babies to Atlanta, Jaw-gia where one of my babes is working a big ol' job (right outta grad school at that, clap, clap clap), and I'm working a...job. Making a little coffee, interned at a magazine, volunteering with a start-up biking magazine, sleeping a lot and loving on my sweet furry boothang. 

said boothang at the park

I am learning to live without my sister. I think by living in separate cities for most of our lives, I assumed her death wouldn't hurt as bad as it has. I mean, there isn't this constant reminder of her all over my house or on the street corners. She was 18 years older than me, so we didn't even share many of the same memories. Despite that, she was such a big part of my life. She was one of my good friends. My second mom. My counselor. One of my biggest fans. I think in many ways I knew how much more loved I was by my Creator because of how LIKED I was by my sister. She lavished. She encouraged. She spoke truth and wisdom in some of my darkest places, including the darkness of her illness. Some of my greatest joys was being able to do that for her when she was struggling. In the last two months of her life - when I had no idea she was that close to the end - she wept with me like I had never seen her weep and talked about how tired she was and expressed, "how did we get here? How am I already here?". And all I could do was cry and sing "A Mighty Fortress is Our God" (NO idea where that song came from) because I had no clue what to say. Even in that sorrow - because sorrow is the only word for what we were experiencing - the bonding moment of singing and inviting Jesus into where we were - brought us even closer. I've thought about that time over and over and over, especially when I'm sitting in that same spot on her bed when I'm at her house.

me, my sister's kids and my mom at Christmas

I miss her. And that's how I'll begin this blog again. My new year's resolve. A little piece of my heart is missing, but I really want to keep moving. More people in my life will be lost, more tragedies will turn our world upside down, I will still struggle with writer's block, and yet writing is just the most poignant way to get through it. Love to you all from my living room floor in front of my yet-to-be-taken down tree...to yours. 

Happy Christmas and merry 2015!

P.s. This is refreshing to look back on. I feel basically the exact same way. And I'm so glad I hugged my sister tighter.

back to business

Whatever that means. The times they are a changin, Monsieur Dylan says. The past two months I have been sitting in a boat on choppy waters. Philip sits with me. Our boat has not faced any particular direction, and it is rocked by imminent change. Where is this boat going? we think. Half of me doesn't care, because my heart is so sad that my sister is gone. But the other half is jumping from foot to foot like I used to do as a little kid when I needed to go the bathroom but refused to stop playing. Eeeh adventure, what's next, what's next, what's next! Some of my sadness has been suppressed by job hunting and then house hunting. When our boat turned south toward Geawgia, the logistics of everything kept me busy, making plans, giving my two week's notice, finding a place to live, traveling for anniversary and summer...We moved down south on Sunday with a full moving truck, finally secured a place to live on Tuesday, moved in on Wed., and then I went back to DC on Thursday morning to stay with a friend and finish out my last couple weeks of work in the office.

When the boat changed directions, our hearts did too. We began researching Atlanta, google-mapping distances to friends and family and the beach. So arriving back in DC yesterday was hard. When hard things like moving or losing someone happen, your heart begins to embrace something new and find a new happy place.

When I moved from TN to DC, my sister told me she could not wait to see what God was going to do. I had NO earthly idea what career path I should take, and I was mostly resigned to an eternal destiny/fallback of barista-ing. But then a new job fell into my lap with lots of possibility, and my sister just smiled and said, "See? He takes such good care of you." What an encouragement.

After arriving on a bus from Atlanta after 13 hours, the only thing I wanted to do was go running, and after I arrived at my destination, I promptly plopped my suitcase down on the floor, unpacked my running shoes, and departed. As I ran in this familiar territory, literally on my old stomping grounds (which I'd had until this last Sunday for the last two years), I felt sad. Running through Lincoln Park, I missed my dog who I brought to this park all the time to play. As I ran towards the Capitol, emotionally exhausted from all this change, I realized what was possibly the hardest thing about this move. My sister wasn't here to see this new phase of life. She wasn't here to walk me through it, to assure me that even though I'm quitting my job in DC that I'll be fine in Atlanta. This city - DC - is last place I lived when she was alive, and that made this city both heartbreaking while also comforting. I remember where I was when I got those phone calls from her and when we talked and talked about how she was doing. DC is a painful place to be and a

good grief

So many things to say and so many ways I could start. I could avoid writing about this but that would feel dishonest to the kinds of things I talk about, which is real life. Oh blogging world, it's been a really hard two weeks. To be honest, it's been a really hard year and a half since November 8th, 2012 when I got a text from my big sister at 10:18pm that said "Can you talk?" I was getting off work after the world's longest happy hour, walking towards the Archives metro station in DC, and I immediately called Rhonda back. We knew she'd been having gastric issues and weird itching (the concept of the itching was so bizarre...who itches all over their body?) So I knew the phone call would be about whatever was wrong with her, and in my tipsy state, I held back tipsy tears as soon as I heard her voice.

Her calm voice said, "All right. So. They're saying it's cancer..."[Tears spill over]..."But they think it's just stage 1."

I react in disbelief, and Rhonda says, "But they caught it SO early, Steph. Don't worry. I'm really not worried. It's God's grace that I even had symptoms this early in the game."

Of course I was in agreement, but my heart broke in half. The C word was finally happening. You know it's going to happen. I mean, what is it - like 1 in 3 people get cancer in their lifetime, right? So I knew at some point, someone in my family or group of friends would be affected, and it would be hard. And here it was. It's super surreal when that happens, and it all plays out just like a movie. 

I went home and curled up on the floor and put my head in my husband's lap, and he let me cry. Mina came over and whined and licked my hands because she cannot handle crying.

Thus ensued the months ahead. Whipple procedure. Me in DC, calling and texting family constantly for updates. Christmas in the hospital. 6 months of chemo. Her losing weight but looking like the super hottie she is. She and my other sister come to DC to visit me in June of 2013, and we drink fruit and wine smoothies and talk about Jesus on my bed and go shopping for swimsuits at Macy's. Then she continues to lose weight. Cancer recurrence. More weight loss. 2 rounds of chemo before the doctor says she's too weak to handle it without gaining more weight. Our family looks into more integrative care. Rhonda weakens, pain increases, weight continues to drop. She is unable to hold much, if any, food down. She is given TPN to help her gain weight since she struggles to digest food. Loses weight despite the TPN. Admitted into the hospital for more pain. Hospice for two weeks. Home with Jesus.

It's been a whirlwind. I often felt very disconnected from my sister's illness because I live 11 hours from Nashville. Even though Rhonda and I talked a lot, and I always got updates on how she was doing, I had a hard time balancing my worries about everything going on in Nashville with the new world we had just months before settled into in DC. I feel sort of sorry for DC, because I didn't give it fair chance to put down  roots with so much of my heart back where my sister was.

When cancer came back last August, I remember sending her this entry from Jesus Calling that I had read on the day she called to tell me about the recurrence.

To which she replied (her words are in gray):

Of course her response is exactly what she would have said to ME if I were the sick one asking her why this was happening to me. Faith is a remarkable thing; It's like this little fire burning in our hearts that all of struggles throw kindling on, and that we tend and stoke based on how much we need Jesus. Rhonda's flame shined so incredibly bright that everyone saw it as soon as they met her both before she was sick, but especially after she got sick.

Grief has come slowly. "Good grief" takes on a new meaning, because rather than just an exclamatory remark, it's a statement that clearly acknowledges where we are right now. The grief that we feel is good. Right now it is full of memories and smiles and laughter through tears.

The weeks that we had with her in hospice room were some of the most precious moments - all of us in one room - my mom and Rhonda's step dad, Rhonda's dad and stepmother and stepsisters, my sister, Rhonda's cousins, Mark and the kids intermittently - all keeping watch over her like our little duckling. Ruthanne sat and held her hand, and we all talked about how much we loved her. I swear she was rolling her eyes half the time, especially when we said "Rhonda, do you feel like Jesus is calling you home?" To which she responded in her half-lucid state, "STOP talking about it", which made us laugh. When Ruthanne asked her another time, Rhonda replied, "Not yet." Ruthanne said, "All right then, we'll keep you hear as long as you want to stay." Rhonda half smiled and said, "Well, I'll keep you too."

In the midst of it all, she kept her humor, even if all she could muster was a silly little grin. I came into the room one day, and she said that I had a cute butt. She has a tendency to say things like this, but it was a pleasant surprise to hear her say it when she was so weak and out of it.

She got to talk to each of the kids and Mark one at a time two nights before she died, and even though it wore her out, I'm so grateful she got that time. We convinced her to record herself reading aloud a kids book that had a video recorder inside of it, and even though her voice was weaker than normal, it will be such a precious gift to the kids, especially in the later months.

Finally, on her last full day, we were sitting with her talking, and out of nowhere Rhonda whispered, "yes." Ruthanne asked her if she was saying yes to something else or yes to Jesus this time, and Rhonda said, "Yes to Jesus."

I honestly think that the hardest thing for her was letting go. Some of the last words that she whispered over and over were "four little kids..." It's interesting because you hear about the death of people who love Jesus, and it often seems that they are totally at peace with dying, which in and of itself is a miracle. But Rhonda's response was very much (I think) like Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane where He says, "My Father, if it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done." And then she went. And now she's with Jesus, and it is beautiful and good and well with our souls, even though it really sucks. The prayers of the people have carried us in so many ways, showering this incredibly heavy grace over our family. I can definitely feel our "faith fires" growing throughout all of it.

If you would like to come celebrate Rhonda's life with us, her memorial service will be Saturday, April 20 at 10:00am at Belmont Church, 68 Music Square East, Nashville, TN. We would LOVE for you to come. There will be lots of worship with lots of people who love her dearly.

And because I heard this last night, and it made me think of her:

a table for coffee and other things - a tutorial

About a month and a half ago, I found a coffee table sitting by its lonesome on the curb. To be fair, Philip saw it from afar. Regardless, both of us could see beams of light and possibility shining down from the heavens as we approached it on an afternoon run. We traded looks, knew we should at least give it a try, and I ran back home to get the car.

it's the freakin weekend

I have good news! And not just that it's Friday. Prepare yourself, because it is crazy and sort of laughable and a bit like a wink from God. It's been my sunshine lately, but I can't keep hoarding it from all you wintered-out people. I have been officially commissioned to write 4 books for Flower Pot Press Publishing Company in Nashville, TN. I am going to be an author. My books are all based on Rudyard Kipling's "Just So" stories. They'll be board books, bound and branded with "Stephanie P Gilman" on the cover with illustrations by someone legit named Tom.

How did this happen? I have an awesome sister in law who is an editor at a publishing co and called out for writers just before Christmas; so I submitted a story. What does this mean for me? It really just means that 5 year old Stephanie Parker is getting one of her prayers answered. It's funny how a dream you have as a little kid can become a reality when you don't even realize it's a dream anymore. You realize it's a dream again when someone calls you to say "they liked your story. Want to write for us?" and your heart swells like it did when you were little and imagined being published. If I somehow get my other dream to be a meteorologist, I'll know God was listening. wink.

While most of life is this series of "wait...why?", it's an incredible gift to occasionally see the other side. I'm not really sure why I got a degree in sign language interpreting besides that sign language is cool. But in a lot of ways, it forced me to look beyond my major at what I wanted to do. I knew during my internship that while I love the deaf community, I was not cut out for interpreting - it was a job where I essentially had no voice, no opinion. I was someone else's voice. But if anyone knows me for about 2 minutes, they realize that I can't not have an opinion about something. Thus, writing. I get to do something where I am using my words and expressing my thoughts. Even if this is the only time in my life I am published, I am so excited to have my ridiculous brain written down on real PAGES. I'll keep you updated on where this takes me down the road, because I officially do not have any foresight into what is next. But, if you would be so kind as to direct me to a field where I can do everything I love all at once - writing, deaf advocacy, editing, the homeless community, communications, and coffee, that would be great. Thanks.

Ooh! Here's a fun read if you're interested in trains and writing and enjoying both for free.

from a young married person

I think something happens to you when you least expect it. I was reading a blog entry today from one of my favorites and as she talked about how snugly her baby is, I reminisced about all the little ways my mom always made me feel loved. I hadn't thought about them in a long time. She had a terrible old pink robe (which she still has), and when I was very small, she would wrap the both of us in it, and it was warm and safe and my favorite place. I also loved when sheets were fresh from the dryer, so she would "make up the bed" with me in it, tucking the corners in carefully. Before I started to panic, she would uncover my head and pile the pillows around me. During every movie we ever watched, she would scratch my back for its entirety. I'm not just talking the 1.5 hour Disney movies. Sometimes we would watch Anne of Green Gables or Gone With the Wind. These are long movies. But she never got tired.

Anyway, as I was remembering my mom moments (mom-ents if you will) I tried to a put a finger on the feeling I was experiencing. Nostalgia? Wistfulness? A desire to go back in time? And then it occurred to me. I'm getting softer. My desire was a longing for the moments when I could helplessly be loved by the person I trusted most...and another bound up longing to pour it on another tiny person. A desire to feel what my mom felt, to smell baby skin and know it's your very own and not someone else's baby. For the most part, I'm getting my fill in the form of my dog. I kind of see it in the way that I love the way her paws smell, how excited she gets when she's swimming or knows she's going on a walk, how I can't help but share my food with her, how I don't mind as much as I should when she gets paw prints on the bed, how I love to watch her sleep. But I feel like the little maternal molecules in my body are finally starting to cooperate and accept the fact that I am actually, for real, who-would-have-thunk a female.

To family and friends: Chill. This is mostly revelation that I indeed have a soul and may possibly potentially someday want to invest in a couple little souls. It's something I'm content to ponder...until the next time I hear a baby cry.

don't waste your winter.

I live in a foreign city. I do not know what has happened to it or what possessed it, but we have
SNOW. Lots and lots of it. The kind where I don't want to go inside but it's too cold to stay outside. I'm tempted to run outside in my sweatpants, baggy t-shirt, massive boots, and untamed hair, just like when I was little and had to be convinced to put on a jacket. This is the snow where the whole world is blanketed in clean. My grandmother used to get so excited when it was supposed to snow, and I can imagine how much she would love to be here with me, watching it accumulate.

It's the only thing this time of year that makes the pastiness and dry patches on my skin totally ok. Two of the best feelings ever: 1. Swimming for hours during the summer to the point of having raisin fingers and toes, and coming inside to sit on the floor wrapped in a towel, eating a sandwich your mom made for you, and watching a Disney movie. 2. Playing outside in the snow until you can't feel your nose or your chin, sledding, building snowmen, and throwing snowballs, then coming inside to blow your nose, warm up, and eat soup (memories, anyone?)

However, I will admit that I spend a lot of time inside during these months, wishing that the sun that's shining outside was as warm as it looked. What do I do? I have my go-to things like sleeping, throwing a ball with the dog at the park, watching a TV show, or scouring Facebook. But there are times when all that stuff that I'm only doing for myself makes me tired, and then I think about dinner. I think about birthdays coming up and cards to make. I think about the last time I called my grandmother. I think about washing clothes and cleaning out the car and making bread and doing things that anyone else - even if it's just Philip - could benefit from.

The deal is - don't waste your winter. There are winter blues, and they are normal. We can do something with them though, and it usually starts with forcing yourself to do anything. Here are some options:

- What are you doing for Valentine's Day? Do you have a gift for your best friend? Do you have a gift for your honey?

- It's really cold outside. If it's not cold where you are, then this blog post has very little relevance to you anyway (wink). There are also people who live outside. Buy a cup of coffee for the guy on the corner next time you're on your way into a coffee shop. Ask a nearby homeless shelter if they need warm blankets or other warm things for donations.

- Instead of buying bread, make this bread because it looks delicious...Or make this kind.

- Finish a book before Spring.

- Sit down and plan your garden. You know - the garden you don't have but want to have every year, but forget you want to have until it's the middle of summer and too late to plant summer veggies.

- Invite someone over for dinner. Or invite yourself over to someone else's house for dinner if you know them well enough. Just don't be a hermit.

- Learn to knit. Learn to sew. Learn to be still. Learn to rest. Learn to like black coffee. Learn to like yourself. Learn to do anything you don't know how to do.

- Where are you going on vacation this year? Just going somewhere for the weekend on your anniversary? Going camping? Doing anything to get away from the hustle and bustle of life? Start planning it.

- Call someone new every day of the week that you love, especially someone you know who is hurting and needs encouragement.

- Get a pedicure because your feet feel disgusting. Even if it means just doing it at home or asking your friend to paint them for you. It's amazing what can make you feel pretty when you didn't before.

- Get a dog. Get a cat. Get a fish. Get a pet rock. Get an indoor plant. It's fun to take care of things.

Just don't waste your winter. And enjoy this song while you wait for Spring, because it's been stuck in my head:

happy january

photo courtesy of Hope Stanley

A new year. This year I'll finish the sweater I started knitting in 2012. This year I'll lose some weight. This year I'll spend more time with Jesus. This year I'll sleep less. This year I'll spend less time on my computer and my phone. This year I'll drink less (as she sips her wine and keeps typing). This year I'll be more careful with the way I spend my (sigh, our) money. This year I'll love my husband well. This year I'll focus less on the things I don't like about myself.

So there's the list. Good thing it's still January, and I can say I made my resolutions. It's interesting, because I look at that list and feel pretty ok with it because those aren't bad things. They're noble, worthy goals that I and a billion other people make and congratulate ourselves about because admitting is a step in the right direction, right?

the best brussels

Fall sometimes reminds me of getting into a bath tub to soak in lovely hot water that very quickly turns cold. Why do people make small water heaters? That's the big question. And with regard to Fall, why does it have to be so short lived? Just when you get used to all the gourd decorations and leaves with their sassy red and yellow garb and have enjoyed a pumpkin spice latte or two, suddenly it's salted caramel hot chocolates and commercials with Santa buying toys at Petsmart. I do love Christmas, but winter gets this long kick of being from December-around April, and Fall gets like two months of glory. Maaaaaybe some of September, definitely October, and definitely November.

Somehow it's already November 8th, and yesterday the leaves were just beginning to turn. My resolve is to make Fall last longer by putting pumpkin in everything. And by making lots of sauteed brussels sprouts. Here's a thought about brussels sprouts. Is it possessive? Brussels' sprouts? Do these sprouts belong to Brussels? As in Belgium? Or are we talking about a totally different thing...Regardless, brussels sprouts have the potential to be amazing or awful. The key is cutting off the butts that tend to be bitter and then sauteing the rest.

The Best Brussels

You'll Need:

Fresh brussels sprouts (the farmer's market has them by the tubs here in DC)

Olive oil

Sea salt

Pepper

A smattering of bacon bits

Cut off all the butts to these little cabbages and toss them into a pan with some a small smattering of bacon bits (just enough to give them flavor), about a tbsp of olive oil, salt and pepper, and (optional) one clove of fresh garlic or a sprinkling of garlic powder.

Cook for about 6 minutes on low and place cover on the pan, shaking the pan every minute or so. As soon as these guys have browned undersides, they are ready. Try one and if it's tender on the inside, it's good to go. 

When I made some the other night, we ate them with roasted rosemary potatoes. Delish. You should definitely do it. P.s. - the truth about brussels sprouts. Because Wikipedia knows everything I don't. Happy weekend, everyone. Oh, and for your Friday enjoyment, these are pretty giggle worthy.

reviews-day tuesday: a successful pinterest project

This is a review of sorts. It's the necessary type of review that either thumbs up or thumbs down Pinterest project. Unfortunately, Pinterest is constantly intriguing but often leaves me dissatisfied with my version of the product. Is it just me? Maybe I'm missing a crafty gene? It can't be me all the time. It's that Pinterest simplifies not-simple things, roping you into a project and convincing you that even YOU can do this...which absolutely will not turn out like the picture. Regardless of these disappointments, I have found a goodie in this Pin, and I invite you to DIY following the steps below. You will need:

• An old t-shirt (or in this case cami)
• Scissors
• An extra pair of hands 

Hope it works for you! It's a small headband, and I'll probably make a bigger one on my second attempt. Also - I walked by these today on my way to work, and I thought you'd like them...Happy Tuesday!

all you need...

Today's post is to stir up the giddiness in you...and to incite a few tears. For more details on this blessed event, click here.

have you come to sing pumpkin carols?

I wish there were pumpkin carols. Fall carols, if you will. I know all this talk about pumpkins is making people sick; it's all anyone talks about. Especially the single working women, the young moms, and the newly marrieds. What is it with this demographic and our obsession with everything pumpkin related? I'm pretty sure my grandmother enjoyed baking with it, but I don't know if she ever talked about it. She definitely didn't Instagram about it...

But with the twerking and the non-government and the chaos that has ensued as a result of both, we have to have something to fall back on for excitement. So herein lies something for you to bake.

I made it today, and it was simple and delicious and sugar-less. The recipe calls for sugar, but don't feel any obligation. I substituted for pure maple syrup. It should look like this below. And your coffee and your dog should look like this.

 Enjoy!

reviews-day tuesday: a shock top a day...

  

I don't presume to be any sort of connoisseur of beer or alcohol in general - I can only claim my dear sweet love of it. The only thing that is occasionally better than a beer is a beer that has a cider kick to it: I present to you, Shock-Top Honeycrisp Apple Wheat. When you pass this beer at the store, you do a double take because the words "Honeycrisp" with "Apple" and a splash of the color red on the side of the bottle are incredibly eye catching. So you pick it up and study the logo with all the little apples and consider how great it might go with the dessert you're serving tonight.

But then Woodchuck and Angry Orchard dance around in your peripheral vision over in their confined little ciders-only club, questioning: "how are we any different than that 'not-cider' over there?" So here's the deal. My husband will choose Jameson if given the option over most any alcoholic beverage. And if he picks a beer, it's going to be as Hoppy as possible so that I won't want to share it. However, he requests this Apple Wheat. It may have more to do with the fact that Harris Teeter sells these in a 6 pack, but doesn't have it priced in their system, so every time we buy some, they ring it up for $4.99....but still. Just. Delicious.

It's a beer you crave and that quenches your thirst at the same time. You can't not drink it and smile. This beer does not mess around with inbetweensies. It is both beer AND cider and fantastic. 

With that, I'm off to buy a pack. Happy Tuesday; enjoy a throw back:

i apologize...

...because I do not have children, and I cannot fill my blog with their latest isms, cutest sayings ever, recipes for making the best baby food, or how saggy my breasts are after nursing....and because stories about my dog fill the blog holes that should probably be filled with baby stuff at this point in my life as a woman.

because I am 25% crafty instead of 99%, so I cannot fill my blog with the things I D-I-Y every single day. Only the DIYs I'm inspired by once every couple months.

because I do not care about politics, and I cannot tell you what opinions you should have about such things.

because I am no longer "there", and my "here" stories must suffice, despite how seemingly boring America is (clearly...or else why would people only start blogs once they start traveling?...cough-me-cough.)

because I do not know have blog give aways...let's be real here...no one knows who i am right now.

because I post videos of taylor swift covers that I happen to be covering.

And so for now, enjoy my chatter of good music, good food, good people, and the good life. And sometimes - the not so good life. It's almost Friday, and that is very exciting.

A song for today:

as summer ends...

The past few weeks have been lonely. Not in an "awwwww" sort of way. It's creates a time of some reflection and lots of thinking. It also allows for enjoyment of simple things like pulling out sweatshirts again, the last few fresh tomatoes of summer, watching my broccoli babies become adolescents, cooler mornings, having options for what to do with my weekend afternoons but feeling very little pressure to start the day before I really want to. As I wait for my husband to come home from school, work, or DC Habitat, I get a chance to consider the following things:

• cooking full meals can be over rated.
• it makes so much more sense to get almost everything you own at yard sales
• if I had a bottomless supply of underwear, I might be completely happy.
• I will miss summer, but sights like these at the grocery store are still heart warming:

the one where I do something crafty

I think just like there's a time of the month for more chocolate than usual, there's a time of the month for craftiness. I don't know when that time is or what inspires it, but the last couple weeks, I've been tapping into the creative lobes of my brain. Most recently it came from a desire to have curtains and lamps that were cute and not expensive. So I dug through my collection of random linens and found a tapestry I once bought at Anthropologie to serve as a cover for my duvet when I was in college. After I got married, it was a nice tablecloth. But then I needed curtains to cover our very unsightly closet. So after choppin em up and yelling at my sewing machine for a good three hours, we have a couple nice panels that I can use for a closet now and one day for actual, real, non-basement windows. They aren't half bad. Philip likes them too, I'm sure, even though his first reaction was "this room is way too girly now..." Here is the process documented in case you'd like to see how it's done (note Mina's help):

reviews-day tuesday

Welcome to a new series. To keep Tuesdays alive and interesting and readers engaged. You want to know what is worth your time, money, investment. I can help you with that. And we'll try to keep it relevant.

Once in 12 stars, I get a free drink from Starbucks, thanks to my well-used gold card. Typically this means I buy the biggest, most delicious, recently-added drink menu item. Or sometimes I just go with my gut and get a venti iced coffee, unsweetened. Today though the PSL signs sparked my interest - just what we need in this life, another acronym - and although I did not desire a Pumpkin Spice Latte on this particular Tuesday, I did notice that a few sister drinks had been added to the latest and greatest Fall drink list. The one pictured above is a chocolate chai latte. Chocolate + chai + latte. Three words that seem like they should go together deliciously. Two of those, rearranged in two different ways, are two peas in a pod. Chocolate + latte (mocha) and chai + latte. Both drinks melt in your mouth, especially on cold days, but mixed all together (minus the espresso), the drink is less than impressive. I was disappointed, but not as disappointed as if I had actually paid for it. Stick with your chai or your mocha or your PSL or that other thing you get at coffee shops - coffee. Chocolate chai leaves much to be desired. Hence the half-full cup that got thrown away shortly after this picture was taken above.

top 12

I don't often indulge in Vh1 shows of any kind mostly because I didn't have access to Vh1 for the last several years of my life. But then you're flipping through channels with your homemade margarita and a big bowl of pasta with a lot of pesto, and you can't help but unmute the tv. Especially when it's the top 100 songs of the 00's. My jams. I grew into the person I would BECOME as a result of this music. Change your life, change your day, change your attitude, change your mind music. Music I fell in love to, music I wept to, music I grew to, music I handed to people with confidence that they too would be changed because of, music that can only be appreciated when hearing at just the right moment, usually really loud, sometimes at a wedding or on a dance floor or in your car or on a plane with your headphones in. I can't show 100 videos on my blog, but some were so formative in my music appreciation that I have to post the most epic 12. Please take a moment to enjoy at least 25 seconds of each song. I will say - not all of these are songs were my favorite or the best, but they played a huge role in ages 12-20 for Stephanie Parker, and it is likely that some of them did the same for you.

1. Beautiful Day:
The heart is a bloom. You hear this and feel like someone who finally gets poetry after never understanding anything William Blake or Lord Byron was saying in your high school English classes. I can't really explain the power of U2; even a sarcastic, cynical, pop-music loving middle schooler like me heard this song and was moved to tears. It has continued to stir something up in me every time I've heard it since, and I never get tired of it. It reminds me of growing up and learning to embrace life as is.

if it has a dot com, it's legit

It DOES have a dot com, mind you. ".com" status makes it the real thing (so no judging the legitimacy of my blog), which means you have to stop and pay homage to the earners of this rite: the dogs. Here is an appropriate song to accompany you through this post...

It's National Dog Day. As I speak, my husband is chasing my furry child around and around the couch. I already really appreciated their ongoing lighthearted banter where Mina fakes ferocity and then reluctance to wrestle when Philip goes in for the kill. But National Appreciation days call for a moment to stop and reflect on the honored ones, and so today I'm considering what it is about this supposed "non-soul" that I call friend that makes me swoon.

Maybe it's because she knows me so well. Or maybe it's because I know her so well. Or maybe it's the unexpected things she does that make me look behind those brown eyes and think there's something else there. She has a lot of depth. She gets her feelings hurt, she pouts, she gets excited, she's determined, she's cautious. She expresses all of these feelings nearly every day. I don't really know how she's able to do that and still not be a human, but somewhere inside of her I think she has these empathetic human feelings because of how much she loves me and Philip.

It could also be the times that she just sits with me. I either love to be still or be really active, and she can appreciate both of these activities on a moment's notice.

I mean, I think most of the time she would be curled up in a sleepy ball regardless of whether or not I at home, sick on the couch (below) or doing work on my computer (above)...It just seems that she chooses these moments at just the right perfect time that I can't help but think they might be her faithful way of communicating "I only have puppy eyes for you".

I'm definitely not ready for the b word, but when I find myself stroking her ears and watching her sleep, I wonder if maybe she's serving a purpose for both providing one of the truest friendships of my life, while also priming me for a future of being "mom". I don't know, but I'm enjoying the fact that she's mine. In honor of Happy Dog Day, enjoy one of the nominated best animated short films from the 2013 Academy Awards. Your hearts will swell.

heavy

I've tossed it around in my mind again and again whether or not to write about this, but it's one of those things that has come back to me so many times that I feel like it would be less me to NOT talk about it. A lot has happened recently. There has been a lot of hurt and sorrow in the lives of people dear to me. Recently is relative, but I'm dating back over the last several months. You know it'll happen to you one day, and so you sort of prepare your heart for the inevitable passing of someone you love. But even though there's a resignation in your heart, there is no adequate, tied-up-with-a-bow preparation you can make when it actually, finally occurs. Because really - it wasn't SUPPOSED to happen to you. These sorrows sit on my shoulders, and unfortunately it's not even the same sorrow that weighs on the friend to which it happened. They have their own pain, and it's difficult realizing you can't lessen the pain of your loved ones by deciding to also carry it.

My Facebook feed is inundated with calls for prayer, posts of condolences on this or that person's wall, news of tragedy. An amazing guy and mutual family friend died during a hiking trip in Switzerland. A friend's mom passed away this weekend. My sister is recovering from cancer and the side effects of treatment. One of the teenage girls from my time as a youth intern has had several surgeries for her cancer. A good friend's younger brother is in treatment for cancer. My brother in law's high school friend passed away suddenly a few weeks ago. I think of my grandmother when I spoke to her on the phone the other day of my grandfather who passed away in 2012. I asked how she was doing, and she said, "it hasn't gotten get any easier". It breaks me into pieces.

It makes me tired and heavy and uncertain what to do with it. There's only so much sad you can feel, particularly when it doesn't literally directly affect you. It's not my mom, it's not my body, it's not my brother, some are not even my friends. But how do you keep going when you're at work, reading the text that conveys the recent unfortunate event that occurred? It's not my burden to carry, right?

Honestly, I think empathy is a gift. Right alongside compassion. It's this treasure you pass along to the ones who are hurting. An offering of "I can't carry it for you, but I can carry it with you". Scott Sauls made a great point in a sermon shortly after one of the aforementioned tragedies that happened in Nashville. He talks about how Jesus promises He will never take us through a valley He hasn't also walked through Himself.

And then there's the beauty in it. So many sweet reminders of Grace and outpourings of Peace. The body of Christ clearly evident, doing the work we are supposed to do. And this promise of what comes after. The "fairy tale" of sorts. The happily ever after that you thought only existed in Disney movies.

Scott also mentions in his sermon that when he was younger he was convinced he was dying of a terminal illness. And as he was grieving this impending death, his mentor asks him to put his fear in the context of the worst case scenario. He says, "What the worst possible thing that could happen if you do die within the next year? The worst thing that could happen is that you'd immediately be transformed and transferred into the direct and immediate presence of Jesus, and begin a life of everlasting bliss in the complete absence of things like death, mourning, crying, pain, and sickness. That's the WORST thing that could happen to you."

I have to be honest that I struggle with similar fears in my heart - fears about my family, about myself, about people I love and death in general. And Scott's summation of heaven - a place with which I've never been particularly intrigued - brings about a new sense of grief for the scary things that could be and that which is unknown. There's this new sense of grieving with hope. It's like this spiritual, interim bear hug He gives us when nothing else makes sense. It doesn't fix anything by any means, but it softens the blow - the slap in the face of being in a really broken world.

So to my friends who are grieving: the human heart longs for companionship in every emotion. I grieve right along with you, and my hope is that all of the prayers being continually lifted by those of us who love you will carry you through this valley.