knowing all the side streets and back alleys that allow one to avoid the congestion and stresses of peak hour traffic.

“Oh man. If I had magic powers… I would hope that I would use them for good. I think I would. But I would do something pretty trivial like making traffic disappear.” – Nick Stahl

Amidst the hustle of our lives,
The day to day routine that drives.

There are times when we find,
Little things that leave us unconfined.

Felt like I found a new dimension
Leaving behind my apprehension.

Little did I know,
Baking could be such a good show.

The cupcakes seemed to smile
The effort was worthwhile.

The smallest of things can bring immense happiness,
It did take away almost all my stress.

Every passing day, inspires us,
To treasure such moments of bliss.

The first thing that I know you are all dying to know about is (…not the recent addition of a rather nice scottish man…that’

s just you mum) NEW ZEALAND!! On the 26th March we jetted off just about as far as you can go from watford to the North island of Sunny New Zealand to spend 2 and a half weeks seeing what the country had to offer; and it was well worth the 24 hour plane journey! SO much went on as you can see from some of the pictures on my facebook, butI’ll try and keep the update brief…

We started off at Easter Camp in Hamilton, a camp run by Christians in New Zealand for 4500 young people. We helped out on various teams across the camp (despite not having played sport in a good little while I helped out with the sports tournaments, it was loads of fun!), and got to camp with an amazing church called Titirangi baptist church who made us feel so loved and welcome – they even welcomed us to the group by getting their largest men to do the hukka; it was terrifying! The camp ran over the easter weekend and during main meetings in the morning and evening we heard lots of good stuff about the easter narrative and the theme of God considering us ‘his masterpeice’; it was incredible to see the transformation in the young people even over a short space of time, simply co

ming to understand a little bit better that they are a beautiful creation who is loved and who is here for a purpose gave them a new confidence in their Heavenly Daddy. It was definitely clear that God was working, even on the other side of the world…who knew!?

We were all sad to leave the camp and new friends, but excited to get on the road to begin out tour of the north island – via Huka Falls, the thermal wonderland of Rotorua and the surrounding area, Feilding and back up to Auckland, we got to see so much of God’s incredible creation, and in this case a picture is worth a thousand words. NZ is so beautiful, I’ve been recommending that everyone go there since I got back! (and you should too!!).

On our final day in Auckland we went bungey jumping off the Auckland Harbour Bridge (it has an actual name but I can’t remember it!); it was honestly one of the weirdest and greatest things I’ve done, such a weird feeling bouncing up and down dangling by your ankles, but such a rush when you are just free falling! Definitely not for those with a fear of heights though…you know who you are .

After the bungey jump a small group of us headed over to Waiheke Island for some much needed r&r on the beach for 4 days before we flew home. It was a great time to enjoy the sunshine and beautiful beaches and reflect a bit on all that had gone before, but mostly just to be slightly overwhelmed by how lucky we had been to get to see such a beautiful place and share it with a whole bunch of beautiful people! If you did want to know any more details or any particularly amusing anecdotes do let me know!

Since we returned from NZ and managed to get over the inevitable jet lag (which was, as people said it would be, awful; I really felt like I might die at one point) things have been busy back in Watford. We had just three weeks before we made it to our may holiday (which is where I am writing from!) and when we get back we’ll be right through to the summer festivals and the end of the course, busy busy! Next time I write I promise you I will tell you more about what I’m getting up to in Watford, but for now I just want to encourage you all with something I think God has been teaching me recently.

There is a song by a beautiful singer Colbie Caillat called ‘The Little things’, and although it is about a boy, I think it’s lyrics in the chorus are quite poignant;

‘the little things you do to me are taking me over…I wanna break free, I wanna make it closer to your eyes, get your attention, before you pass me by…’

In the past few weeks and months it’s the little things that God has been doing for me which have drawn me to him, and I feel like he’s been teaching me to notice more and more – so that His beauty doesn’t pass me by. It started in New Zealand the day before Easter Camp started, we were setting up the netball courts and were just expressing how desperately we needed a drink of water when our team leader Ryan walked in with a whole crate full of chilled water bottles. Encouraged by his appearance we, semi-joking, decided that perhaps expressing our desires might work and began to pray for ice-cream, brownies, and money! A little while later we were heading towards the second lot of netball courts when what should we find but a freezer chest full of unopened ice-creams, complete with a chocolate brownie centre! Feeling like we’d probably pushed our luck far enough, we enjoyed our ice-creams and thanked God a lot for them before the site managers could come and take the chests away….but it didn’t quite end there. A little later in the afternoon whilst we were clearing the football pitches one of the boys on the team stumbled across a key…to a safe! Sadly we never found the safe in question, but we went away feeling crazy blessed and with a really nice reminder that God really does care about our needs, however big or small.

Since that point I’ve been trying to pray about those little things that I used to think probably didn’t matter so much to God, and while my prayers haven’t all been answered quite as immediately as they were in New Zealand (maybe God lives in the South Pole, so it doesn’t take so long for prayers to transmit there…who knows…), I’ve begun to notice him much more in my daily life. Whilst praying about jobs for next year he led me to a verse in Romans which reminded me that he has the plans in hand (Romans 12v2), when I started to panic about jobs for next year he provided pretty much the perfect one, when I started to worry about running out of money he provided it in a really unexpected way…and that names just a few times he’s noticed those small things that I needed like reassurance!

God knows that it’s the little things that he does for us that win our hearts over to him and produce hearts that want to be drawn to him – it’s the little things that make big things happen! He even said it about his own kingdom…

Matthew 13:31-32 He told them another parable; “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, which a man took and planted in his field.  Though it is the smallest of all your seeds, yet when it grows, it is the largest of garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and perch in its branches.

So why not look out for those little things that God is doing for you which could, like a mustard seed, so easily go unnoticed but if you pay careful attention to them could change your world.

Life lately has been beautiful in so many ways and focused on the people in my life who make it so. It was that balance that made me feel so alive and like I am doing something right for now. I realized more so that the things that are important, those I prioritize and encourage, may not mimic the items of others…and this is refreshing, and absolutely more than OK. We spend so much time comparing ourselves to others and changing accordingly, when you know what? Staying true to ourselves makes us pretty damn interesting and happy to be us.

I’m happiest when I feel fulfilled in my relationships with myself, others, and the community. This weekend allowed for just that.

It started with my friend, E, including me in an incredible mother-daughter book club program she created for her students and their mothers. I assisted her as much as I could, the program being led entirely in Spanish, and honestly was just so happy to be there and witness the community she was able to build in little over an hour.

I arrived home in the early afternoon to gather together some snacks and drinks for our friends from out of town. We soaked up as much sun as the sky was going to give as we caught up and they excitedly talked about their upcoming wedding and their new house. Rain fell as we walked to a neighborhood restaurant and squeezed into a table into the corner, poured some wine and indulged in amazing Mediterranean food.

The Sunday morning farmer’s market was so alive this week. We have finally found farm we love that we buy our beef, eggs and butter from. This week we splurged on incredible, “sushi-grade” salmon…what should I make?

After, we packed up the car and headed southwest to Swarthmore. Oh, what as refreshing sight this place is. We wandered around town, adoring the tree lined streets, ended up back at the campus and stumbling upon this spot

If you, fellow Philadelphia residents, haven’t visited this little town, you must. The town is a short 25 minutes from the city and is such a respite.

And that was it…that and a big dinner of leftover odds and ends and wine while watching a movie at home. And time to allow myself to think and not chase away my thoughts and budding dreams.

It was simple… but so wonderful.

I love how your warm breath meets the skin of my neck. My skin is cold and your breath tickles me when meeting one another. Yours breathing is usually fast at first, but soon is changed to something more calm as a beat. Yours lips kiss my shoulder and from the very moment, everything else losing its meaning-it simply doesn’t matter to me anymore. My worries are gone away with the wind and the only thing left in here is you beside me.

I love the conversations we have, usually when lying on the bed when there’s lighting outside. I love how you come and snuggle when you are scared and I love repeating to you that there’s nothing you should be scared from, especially when I am here with you to protect you.  I love to feel your heartbeat rising when there’s a lightning outside soon after being followed by a terrible noise…. The conversations we usually have, despite not being really important, usually about daily problems at work, sound meaningful to me, yet less meaningful but I would always keep them as a secret, despite it is not needed. 

I love how we can be silent for some time and it is never awkward because our eyes speak. Words are not needed because we understand each other. The way you can get to me is more than I could ever ask for in this world. I have you and you are my everything. You are simply my everything!

I love to watch you while you’re sleeping. Did you know that you talk a lot during your sleep? You are probably having some nightmares and everything you say can be suitable for a script of a comedy/romantic movie. I keep those words as a secret, though it really doesn’t make sense to me at all why I should. This is something between your mind and me. You always think, even in your sleep and watching you thinking over silly nightmares, makes me smile, even if there’s terrible storm outside…. I love to calm you when your talking gets more intense just by rushing my fingers through your hair and kissing your forehead. I love how you snuggle in me and cover yourself with the sheets that make you barely visible to the world….

I love to watch how the snow’s falling on the streets. How everything soon turns white and you can barely divide which of the tings was the white car you drive and the cafe painted in white. It’s a winter fairy tale because I get to be more with you at home and to hug you and take care of you, despite you don’t really need it. I love to cover you up in a blanket when you fall asleep in the afternoon, while you’ve been reading another silly love novel. I love leaving you notes you could read while talking a shower when you reach out for the shampoo. If you weren’t cleaning after me, there wouldn’t have been any place left so I could put some others on the mirror…

I love those sweet moments that I get to have rarely and rarely. I appreciate each one of them and I hope that you do too. I value each second spent with you and remember even the silliest and least important things from your life. I love to make me laugh when I fail to divide the red from the white laundry and in the end, our clothes are all pink. Instead of shouting at me, you smile, reach out for my hand, take it in yours and you say ” Luckily for you, I look really great in pink.” and you kiss me on the nose. 

What I love the most is that you make me love you for what you are. You make me love your strengths and weaknesses. Perfections and imperfections. Even the strangest qualities of yours that I had never thought I could love in a person. You make me a better person. The person that I was meant to be my whole life is here thankfully for you. “I love you” is not enough but it’s coming straight from my heart. My everything, I want share it with you-the good and the bad and everything in between. I want to share my love with you and the rest of the world because of your existence in my life. 

“Exactly. I am in love with what. I love the first step in a blanket of snow, or when the sun dances through the trees. When leaves and petals fill the driveway, and the long road trips taken with your friends and good music. The aroma of flowers and how wine smells like a sidewalk after a rainstorm. I love the feeling of slipping under the covers when you’re tired, and the comfort of the night. I’ve fallen in love with the morning dew on my feet from the grass, and the color of the sky when the sun sets. I’m in love with listening to people talk about something they are passionate about and seeing their eyes light up with excitement, and I love looking up into the night sky with the feeling of exploration and desire. I’ve fallen in love with planes and the overview of the city when you’re landing because for those instances I’m watching the world, and I feel less alone than ever. When babies laugh, and finding a really good book, or maybe how powerful it feels just to hold a simple pen. I love the rattle of thunder and the quickness of lightning, accompanied by the tapping of rain on my windowsill. I love hugging the people you care about and feeling the happiness almost pour over your body, and suddenly everything feels alright. I also love being with the people I love, and talking, whiling away the night with them. You see, I’m in love with the little things.”

Sometimes it’s great forgetting about budgets, forgetting about responsibility, forgetting those pending bills and simply enjoy the pleasure to be had in treating oneself to a new wardrobe.

“I do get pleasure from very inconsequential things, like shopping for clothes.” – Graham Norton

I came across a list I wrote up several years ago for a skill share – it’s a list of phrases I use a lot when facilitating. When I first started facilitating, this sort of thing was super useful when thinking out how a conversation was going to go.  These aren’t going into my chapter, but I thought I’d share them in case anyone found them interesting.

Moving Things Along:  One of the most common issues I see in meeting is being right on the edge of agreement, but not quite able to firm things up and move on. Sometimes this can be an issue of lack of trust leading to a tendency to micro-manage – other times it’s just that natural group excitement to do every task at the same time! But I’ll save such diagnosis for another day.

“Ok, this is just brainstorming now, we’ll discuss specific details later” or it’s opposite: “It sounds like we’re starting to get off track. I think we have a little more digging to do/a few basic questions to answer on this topic before we move on to the next item.”

“Everyone has really important things to say, but if we don’t wrap this up soon we’ll miss lunch/be late for break.”  (semi-humorous only!)

“Any last burning or urgent statements you want to share before we move on for now?”

“It’s sounds like lots of folks are in agreement – does anyone have any concerns or disagreements with this proposal?”

 ”I see a lot of folks have hands up, but I want to summarize some consensus from the statements we’ve already heard.  What I think I’m hearing is –this value/proposal–, does that sound right?”

“So what I’m hearing is that the group thinks…does that sound right? Anyone want to re-phrase my proposal?”

“So what I hear you saying is….Does that sound like what you meant to say?”

“What’s next? How do we move forward with this? What do next steps look like? When does this need done by? What needs to happen first to move this forward?”

“It looks like we have a good list of basic values and outcomes for this project – are we ready hand it over to a committee/working group to flesh out the nitty-gritty?”

Off-topic

“I think that is a really important point, but right now we are talking about…can we bike rack that or talk about it at this later time?”

“I’m not sure that fits into the agenda/process we put together, could we discuss that later?”

“This sounds like a separate working group – anyone want to volunteer to make sure this conversation gets into next week’s agenda/get’s discussed later”

Call for participation

“Lets hear from…” …some people who haven’t spoken yet…the left side of the room…some people who have never been to one of these meetings… women…young people…etc.

“Well, what do you/does the group think?” (It’s not uncommon for group members to ask the facilitator a question that the facilitator has no authority to answer.)

“Take a moment to discuss this question with your neighbor, then we’ll report back some of the key points y’all come up with.”

“Let’s consider that question for a minute. What are people’s thoughts?”

While some of these statements have become pretty rote for me, I do *almost always* genuinely still mean them.

5 little things about me
1. I am obsessed with hand sanitizer. I love it!!! I don’t even know why, but I just do.
2. I have a nail varnish collection of over 40 different colours. I do love my nail art!
3. I have never eaten sushi.
4. I have never been on a rollercoaster. I have no idea why, I just never have!
5. I really want cats. I would love to have two, one black, one tabby.

So that was my little list… I hope you enjoyed. If you did hit the ‘FOLLOW’ button and I will love you eternally! I will write again soon. CB x

                Daffodils.

                I know she loves daffodils. I remember I brought her roses before but she flatly rejected it saying she loved daffodils more. Well, it’s certainly a breath of fresh air. Most girls love the most romantic of flowers, roses as red as blood, the redder the better. But she isn’t ‘most girls’. She’s Alice. My Alice.

                As I walk down the pavement on the way to her place, I started to look back on our earlier days, fingering the thin stem of the yellow flower…

Your hand fits in mine

Like it’s made just for me

But bear this in mind

It was meant to be

                I still remember the first time we met. We just moved in to the neighborhood and I was just a wee shy kid hiding behind my mother’s legs. Our doorbell rang on that fine Monday morning while my mother was making breakfast. My mum rushed to the door and I held a firm grip on her skirt, dragging me along with her. I peeked at the open door by my mother’s side and there I saw a girl of my age, her two front teeth gone but still managed to look adorable with her smile so huge, silky black hair in messy pigtails and freckles all over her face. She was handing out a covered platter of something that smelled like cilantro.

                “Hello, Mrs.  Flanagan. My mother asked me to bring this baked lasagna for you. Welcome to the neighborhood,” she said lisping on her ‘s’. She was too cute for her own good that I very nearly offered her a smile of my own. Keyword: nearly.

                My mum, with her perfectly coiffed ginger hair like mine, smiled at the little girl as she took the platter with a, “Thanks, dear. What’s your name again?”

                She replied joyously, her dimples showing, “Alice.” Her smile widened a bit as she caught me staring at her causing me to heat up as red as beetroot. “Hello, what’s your name?” she asked.

                I didn’t reply. I didn’t mean to be rude. I just thought that she’s a stranger so why would I introduce myself to her? But mum could sense my displeasing attitude towards the nice girl next door. “Edward,” she said warningly.

I had cringed and then with one last pleading look at my mother, who pointedly glared at me, held out my hand tentatively. “Ed. My name is…Ed,” I squeaked.

Her smile lit up some more, if that was even possible, and she happily grasped my hand. “Hello, Ed. Nice to meet ‘ya.”

                I swear my cheeks reddened even more and I looked away, afraid that she might see it.

And I’m joining up the dots

With the freckles on your cheeks

And it all makes sense to me

                We started to become friends due to the insistence of my mother. My mum and Alice’s mum became the best of friends as well. I even watch them at the corner of my eye whenever I play with Alice of our house’s front lawn. I was that protective of my mother.

                Alice and I were fond of making mudcakes. We used to offer them to our mothers like it’s a real dessert. And guess what we’re doing at this time of the day again?

                “Hey, Ed,” she called in that tiny voice of hers. I ignored her because I knew when I ask her what’s wrong she’d just smile and shake her pretty little head. “Psst. Ed! Edward! Ed! Teddy!”

                I whipped my head to face her and asked a little irritated, “What?”

                But the furrow in my brows disappeared as soon as I saw her. Her freckled face was smudged with brownish mud yet she still…looked…beautiful. Unknowingly, I raised a hand up and traced those freckles like those ‘connect the dots’ activities on books.

                “What are you doing?” she giggled, swatting my hand away.

                “I’m connecting your freckles, like those connect the dots activities on my coloring books,” I answered seriously.

I’ve never been a smiling kind of kid.

                Her giggles faded and her smile dropped. What did I say? “My freckles aren’t made to be played with,” she spat as venomously as a seven-year-old can and then stuck her tongue out at me. Her face was that of disappointment and genuine hurt that I felt really bad as she left me with the unfinished mudcake on my lap.

                I guess she didn’t like to be tickled.

I know you’ve never loved

The crinkles by your eyes when you smile

You’ve never loved

Your stomach or your thighs

The dimples in your back at the bottom of your spine

But I’ll love them endlessly

                It was just another Wednesday night as I sat by the edge of Alice’s bed like I always do whenever I sleep over at her house. Her room was…too girly, if description of it was necessary. Too many shades of pink and violet and posters of her favorite actors and boy bands. Ugh. Exactly the kind of thing you’d expect from a teenage girl.

“So…red,” she asked, holding up a red satin dress that will surely hug her curves, “or yellow?” She finished putting aside the red sophisticated dress with a yellow baby doll one. And how do I know these things? Years of practice with my mom, of course.

“Um,” I was very unsure what to answer partly because at seventeen, even after years and years of spending most of my time with tons of girls, old and young, I was still no expert in deciphering a girl’s mind. “Uh, yellow?”

I don’t know what made me say yellow, if it was the fact that I heard it last or I think it more conservative than the red one. Still, she valued my opinion as she nodded thoughtfully.

“Yeah. I think this would work. Do you think it’ll cover my stuffed belly? Or my awful legs?” she asked a little doubtfully. Actually, there’s nothing awfully wrong with her physical appearance. She was and still is beautiful. But before I could answer in poetically rehearsed words she interjected, “Do you think Mason will like me enough to ask me for a second date?”

And that’s what got me tongue-tied. This Mason bloke has been the topic of our every conversation and frankly, it really pisses me off. I mean, really. It was bruising my ego way too much that when I’m around, the only crush I’ve ever had would only discuss about Mason this and Mason that.

I guess that’s why I chose the yellow conservative baby doll dress. This Mason might see the beautiful things Alice had that made me like her very much. And I don’t want that. Not ever.

I won’t let these little things slip out of my mouth

But if I do,

It’s you,

Oh it’s you,

They add up to

I’m in love with you,

And all these little things

 When I visited Alice the next week, her mom answered the door instead of her. Since I’ve been too busy (with school work, to make it clear), I haven’t had the chance to call her about her date. And it’s not because I have some super secret manly insecurities, no sir.

“Hello, Mrs. Cavanagh. Is Alice home?” I asked politely as per usual. What puzzled me was that her only response to my greeting was a concerned and sad smile while gesturing for me to come inside.

I went straight for Alice’s room which I realized, was locked. I knocked on the door as soft and as firm as I could announcing, “Hey, Al, it’s me, Ed. Please open the door.”

I heard the distinct and miserable sobs from the other side of the door but I could also hear a scuffling of her favorite bunny slippers that only I could see her in. I stepped aside as the door slowly creaked open and revealed a disheveled looking Alice, with her pretty brown eyes red and puffy from what I presume was from too much crying.

“May I come in?” I asked her softly like we were inside the museum.

She peeked out her door, maybe looking for signs of her mother’s presence but seeing there’s none, she pulled me inside and locked the door behind me. I saw her appearance clearly now: she was in her pizza and donuts print pajamas, paired with her predictably fuzzy bunny slippers, her hair in a bird’s nest mess on her head, and her pale face streaked with dry tears.

“What happened—” I didn’t even get the chance to finish what I was saying because Alice flung herself to me, her arms wounding around my neck, sobbing hysterically on my shoulder. I was never used to seeing a girl cry like this, in near hysterics. Sure, my mum used to cry like this when she and dad were on the stage of telltale signs of divorce but Alice was not my mum. She’s a tiny ball of spirit, bubbly and the life of the party ever since we were kids. She was not that kind of girl who would cry hysterically and miserably as if a loved one died.

I let her cry, I let her weep. It was quite hard not to cry when the strongest person in my life and the one I deeply care about cried like that. Like there’s no hope for tomorrow, like her world ended today.

“What happened, Al? You’ve got to tell me,” Shit. It’s getting difficult to keep an even voice.

“Mason—laughed at me—told me—terrible—he effing insulted me—-” she hiccuped between choked phrases. It was a heartbreaking moment but I was seething. Seething in unexplainable anger at that jerk also known as Mason.

He was an idiot. A totally irresponsible idiot with his bollocks as brain, asking a beautiful girl out and then disses her like trash. Shit. He deserves to be in hell. And God, how I meant that.

You can’t go to bed,

Without a cup of tea,

And maybe that’s the reason why you talk in your sleep

 Lucas Marshall and I were trooped together to share a tent for the school camp in some mountain. Here was a really nice bloke whom I played chess with during break at school and a vice president to my music club. While I play the guitar and sing, he could play the organ or even a piano very well. Well, I think we could make a pretty good team.

“I think I’m gonna go for some fresh air,” he said, while gathering his thermos and a sachet of instant coffee. He has a fetish for black coffee although most British prefer tea.

“Sure, man. Stay safe, mountain lions are lurking,” I joked. He smiled and rebuked with a, “Haha. Very funny, Edward.”

As Lucas zipped the tent close, I prepared a nice cup of chamomile tea with milk and no sugar. One particular girl had introduced me to this kind of drink. And I never regretted it, not even once.

Suddenly, the entrance to the tent zipped open and a girl in fancy brunette braids and an old sweatshirt and sweatpants rushed inside and plopped down next to me.

“Hey, Teddy,” she greeted with a smile as she caught her breath. “Huh. It’s so hard to hide from that monstrous camp director.”

“What are you doing here, Al?” I asked, too bewildered. I checked my clock and continued, “And at 11:36 pm?”

She huffed, “As if you don’t know me. I can’t sleep without tea, remember? Your mum used to make it for me during sleepovers at your house.”

Unfortunately, it was the time she caught sight of my chamomile tea and brightened up as she fished out a china cup from her pajama pocket.

“Hmmm. Chamomile! Thanks so much, Teddy!” she hugged me with one arm and proceeded to pour herself a cup of my tea creation. “You really know me so well, that’s why I love you.” Thank God she turned back to her tea because I was sure my face is heating up. Yet again in her presence.

She hadn’t really meant that. I’m not really expecting too much.

After twenty minutes from when she drank my special-tea (nudge, nudge, wink, wink), she fell asleep under my comforter, snoring loudly. Good thing, Lucas still hadn’t arrived from his nearly midnight stroll.

And before I took my last sip of chamomile, Alice mumbled sleepily, “I’ll get you, you bastard. You just wait and see.”

I just laughed at the absurdity of it, liking her violence even in sleep.

And all those conversations

Are the secrets that I keep

Though it makes no sense to me

Waking up in the middle of a really good dream was the worst thing that could happen to someone who intended to sleep till noon on a weekday. Especially to me.

My cellphone rang to the song Hard Day’s Night by The Beatles. What? I was obsessed.

I groggily reached for my phone on the bedside table nearly knocking my precious lava lamp. I caught it in time, now fully awake, before answering the call after what seemed like the tenth ring.

“Hullo?” was my very intelligent greeting to whoever it was. Who can blame me? I was interrupted!

“How many stars are out there at 3 am?” I recognize the one on the other line but I just responded with a yawning, “How many?”

“None, I think. Wanna go and check?” she asked. She seemed excited for some reason. Well, she hadn’t sounded that happy since I beat the shit out of her first date, Mason Walter, which was worth the one week suspension from school.

“Ugh, Alice. Don’t you know what time it is?” I weakly contested, muffling my voice with a pillow.

Unfortunately, she’s very wide awake that she heard every word I said. “Oh, come on, Ed. Just for an hour, I swear!”

“Why don’t I make you a deal?”

She thought for a moment doubting my proposition but she urged after a while, “Go on.”

“Why don’t we just talk here over the phone? You know, anything you like. Because I literally couldn’t get up since the greatest magnet in the world was at its full power.”

She chuckled but agreed. So from that, we conversed about solar eclipses, to books, to greatest authors of all time, to comedy films, to rom-coms, to action stars, to the Muppets, and finally end up laughing while reminiscing Jim Carrey’s movies.

“It was a totally insensible talk but I had fun. Thanks, Ed. You know just what to cheer me up. Enjoy your sleep. Bye and sorry,” she hung up after that and I wasn’t so sleepy anymore. That’s when I saw the clock saying 6:30 am.

World-record, huh?

I know you’ve never loved the sound of your voice on tape

You never want to know how much you weigh

You still have to squeeze into your jeans

But you’re perfect to me

“A decent guy wouldn’t care if his date’s pants barely fit her. What’s important is that you listen to his thoughts.”

Okay, so since when did I become the guru of Dating 101? Well, honestly, sometimes, I just don’t understand girls. Hmm, I think change that sometimes to most of the time.

You’d think that after school I would have pursued my best friend Alice after admitting my unrequited crush on her, well to myself, but…I chickened out. Big time. So here I am assuming the role of the ever-patient and love expert of a best friend.

Well, Alice has a boyfriend now and I hate to admit this but he’s so much better than that Mason. She’s scared that this boyfriend may ditch her for something as trivial as unfitting jeans. Really.

She scowled at me and then threw her skinny jeans over the dusty weighing scale beside her bed. I shot her a questioning look.

“Those are the worst things in this room. They ought to be forgotten forever,” she said. I laughed heartily.

Funny and beautiful. I know she’s perfect.

I won’t let these little things slip out of my mouth

But if it’s true,

It’s you,

It’s you,

They add up to

I’m in love with you,

And all these little things

Her voice. Her smile. Her laugh. Her face. Her eyes. Her everything.

She’s the most wonderful person I’ve ever met and I have finally decided to tell her my feelings today. But she was not answering my calls.

I heard she and her boyfriend broke up. Her mum told me so. I was ecstatic but I didn’t let it show. 68^th attempt to call. Sheesh. Where is she?

She may have been crying over her break up again. I may have to pop over her house.

My palms are sweating. I hope I can do this. With a face that matched my hair, slippery with sweat palms and hard thudding of my heart, I raced to their front door and rang the doorbell.

You’ll never love yourself

Half as much as I love you

You’ll never treat yourself right, darlin’

But I want you to,

If I let you know, I’m here for you,

Maybe you’ll love yourself,

Like I love you

Oh,

I was finally at her place. The sun is bright and the wind blows the freshest air in days. It was wonderful. I laid the daffodils on the green grass swaying with the breeze. I bet you’re smiling…wherever you are now, Alice.

Alice ended her life not too long ago. It’s the day I was supposed to confess to her. She cut herself on the wrist. She left a little note saying she was done with living a life where she isn’t appreciated for what she is. She hated her big belly, plump lips, dull eyes, droning voice because no one complimented her for it. She was made fun of in school, she was teased by her date, she was broken by her own boyfriend and…she was betrayed by her so-called best friend.

She never had anyone tell her that she’s beautiful and so effing perfect. She never had anyone tell her that she’s the most amazing person on Earth for being so sweet and so caring. She didn’t even wait to hear me say it.

I hope she’s happy now. Because I looked up and threw my confession to the wind…

And I’ve just let these little things slip out of my mouth,

Because it’s you,

Oh it’s you,

It’s you,

They add up to

And I’m in love with you,

And all these little things.

“I love you, Alice. I will always do.”

Why wait for Mother’s Day to show the women who have nurtured and pruned us into the people we stand tall as today? Why send a card, flowers and gifts on this one day when we can do it every day? Yes the economy of today does not allow us to spoil the people dearest to us on a daily basis. But being sincere in the little things is the best gift you can give anyone. Want to know how I spent my mother’s day? I thought a lot about my mum and all the things we normally get up to. I wondered what my life would be like mothering a child. Would I be able to give my child all the priceless gifts my mum has given me? I’ve reached that stage in my life where I know that I want to have a family, where I now feel like it is something I would be able to do, should I find myself coupled with a man who loves me and everything we’re building together. I don’t believe in marriage, I think people get married for the wrong reasons and that 90% of modern marriages are doomed for failure. It’s been a few weeks and my mind has been plagued with the idea of being in love. That stupid, warm, moeshy, passionate, silly kind of love. As much as I can’t stand people who act like sloppy saps, I long for that feeling. That overwhelming summer breeze that feeds your soul with warmth and happiness. Those kisses that stop your breathing. And just someone who will hold my hand and walk with me. That guy, his is the man I want to raise my child with. Growing up in my house wasn’t easy, my parents started off very poor and with many problems but through it all my mum thought me how to be strong, how to be loyal and how to grow into someone who she’d be proud off. I look back now and think of all the stupid things I’ve done in my life and all the things that have hurt my mum – it’s too late, but I wish I could take them back, I wish I knew then how vital my moms guidance really was. I think about the times she shouted at me and lectured about right and wrong, then how I rolled my eyes at her thinking she was acting crazy. Now I see how right she was. Now I feel ready to commit to being the role model she was to me, only to my children. And every time I think about it, I wonder about the man standing next to me. Will he be the lazy, untidy, controlling type that neglects me or will he be my partner in crime who laughs with me and loves me unconditionally without judging me. My mum and I have discussed the men that would suit my life perfectly. His characteristics always boil down to how he would need to be a team player, let’s face it, Christian Grey is a fantasy character. Falling in love with him in real life is something rare that very few women experience. But I don’t want that. I want someone I can argue with and someone who loves the fact that I argue my point. I want someone I can laugh with, make mistakes with, grow with and know that I can trust him with my all. I keep picturing a happy me and a faceless man who is smiling at me, holding my hands and telling me that I am his world, I am his family and this is our home to build and create our life. I’m actually pretty scared, my mum is in Durban permanently so I can just run to her when I’m not feeling well. Telling her ground shaking stuff can’t be done via BBM. Plus I always worry about my mother, she’s been my rock in life and its time that I can stand by her and be her rock too. I’m finally at that age where my mum and I are best friends and speak freely to each other. I’m finally old enough to understand all the sacrifices she made in life for my sister and me. I wonder if I can sacrifice like that for my children. My mother always said, “Wait – your day is coming, when you have children, you’ll know how a mother’s heart cries for her children, you’ll know the strength a mother has to protect her kids and the things she will do for her children”. The same applies for children, I can’t speak for everyone because not everyone feels the same way about their mum’s. But there will come a time in a child’s life when they release how valuable their mum’s really are to them. Sometimes too late and sometimes just in time. As an adult, moving out of my home, I grew more respect for my mother. I released what it’s like to abide another mans customs that I knew nothing of… I learnt about running a household, keeping a spouse happy and working a full-time job. It’s not childs-play. It’s hard work and all our mum’s did it. Seeing my cousin on the verge of popping out my soon to be niece or nephew – I’ve thought about how my mum and dad talk about being grandparents and how excited they would be if I announced that I have a little addition to our family but I’m reminded of what I want from a father and husband figure… Then wonder where I will find it and if I had found it and lost it already. I’m not sitting here and thinking of all the pretty flowery things of having a child. No, instead of all the scary things. Things that we can’t control, things that add more stress to a parent’s life, things that cause couples to fall apart because they are up all night trying to find a loop-hole in the system to survive. And then I remember that when I was born, my folks didn’t have a dime, I still ate, I still pooped and I still cried – guess what, it’s almost 26 years later and I’m standing tall and still giving them grey hairs. Anyways, this is my battle – am I ready for motherhood? Am I mentally and physically strong enough for a challenge so great? Now that I see where all my mothers aches and pains came from, can I sacrifice my life like that for another person?

A salute to all the mother’s in the world. Happy Mother’s Day.

To my mum, you’re one in a million, I don’t think anyone could fill your shoes. Thank you for everything you’ve created in my life. I love you.

[Outfit of the week: Juniper Necklace over a plain white T]

[Beer shopping at Ale Yeah! Craft Beer Market in Decatur]

[After brunch snack at Revolution Doughnuts. I got the salted caramel "cake" doughnut.]

[The makings of a fabulous pizza party:
homemade dough from S &J's Pizza and toppings from the Peachtree Road Farmers Market]

[Afternoon walk at the park with my doggy daughter on Mother's Day]

Craig’s family had planned to come down to visit us for the weekend, but at the last minute couldn’t make it. We missed having them in town to celebrate Mother’s Day, but we still had a fun couple days. Somehow, I managed to swing two dates with just the two of us – yeah! I’ve been wanting to try some new places around the city, so we checked out The Wrecking Bar for dinner Friday and Sun in My Belly for brunch on Saturday. We’d planned on grilling pizzas Saturday night with Craig’s family, so we instead invited some friends/family over to help us make use of all the dough. We probably ended up with a variety of 15 different toppings, and every pizza looked and tasted delicious! I can’t wait to do it again soon. Since we didn’t get to see our moms on Sunday, we spent the day working on a project in the basement and taking Coco for a walk in the park — the weather was beeeautiful in Atlanta! Happy belated Mother’s Day to all of you wonderful moms out there!

Nothing matters more than yourself. You have to first take care of yourself to be able to take care of somebody else. You can’t love someone without loving yourself. Have your self respect and then the respect from the others.

Marvelous is…

…a baking morning with Big Kid on Friday. It was a rainy morning on our favorite day of the week, which means one thing to Caitlin and the boys: baking time. It keeps Big Kid busy, Peanut entertained, and me happy, since they’re both content for a few minutes…oh, and we’re surrounded by chocolate and peanut butter, so clearly life is good. We make a mean peanut butter chocolate chip cookie, kids. Excellent way to begin the weekend.

…coming home to this boy at the end of a long week. Always puts a smile on my face….as does the knowledge that Friday night pizza night is back! I missed it last week (one more reason I’m never moving again), but thankfully we were back on track this week. I’m not sure if it was because I really missed it or because we have a big person oven now and lots of extra work space, but we’re pretty sure this was the best pizza to date.

…two sweaty mess runs in the same weekend. Saturday morning, I headed down the hill on the sidewalk along the road rather than down the steep mountain steps….MUCH BETTER WAY TO GET DOWN TO THE MOUNTAIN. I ran along the river for a few miles and then headed back up the steps for a total of 5.7 miles…after which I was a sweaty mess so obviously a picture was warranted. On Sunday, Joe came with me, and we walked down the steps to the river, ran for three miles, and then came home. I ran up the steps (which is somehow easier for me than walking….no joke) and for the first time, I didn’t have to take a short walk break, which made me really happy. They may suck, but I know running up them every other day will help build my strength and conditioning, so I’ll keep it up…plus, they make me feel like a bad ass every time I get to the top. True story.

(source)

…being left to man the grill for a few hours and NOT DESTROYING THE GRILL OR THE MEAT. I’m still excited about that one. I’ve never used a grill before, but Joe was out of the house early on Saturday morning, so I was in charge for a bit (we were smoking pork so it was an all day process). Not going to lie…I was terrified. I was convinced I was going to break the grill or burn the meat, but I did neither (and the end result was really tasty). Grill: 0, Caitlin: 1.

…short hair. I have to admit, it’s shorter than I was going for….but I like it. Definitely takes some getting used to, but it takes 5 minutes to dry now (instead of 15) and is a lot easier to take care of…win in my book. Now I just have to figure out the best way to run with it…I tried clipping the front back yesterday and it worked…until the wind picked up. Then I couldn’t see till I got home…suggestions?

…Saturday night dinner at home with friends. We’ve been looking forward to being able to have people over for ages, so we were both happy to have a low key evening with one of Joe’s best friends and his girlfriend on Saturday. On the menu: BBQ smoked pulled pork (which I took full credit for since obviously it was my care in those first few hours that made it so good), macaroni and cheese, and panzanella salad (my favorite summer salad by far). Good company, good food, and the Pens winning game 6, officially clenching the series against the Islanders…doesn’t get much better. Now, it’s onto round 2 against Ottawa. Game on, Sens.

…dessert. My first baking conquest in the new house also took place this weekend…although it wasn’t exactly baking, since it was a frozen peanut butter pie courtesy of Sally. It was freaking awesome, however, and one of the easiest things I’ve ever made. This is definitely not the last time this will be made this summer.

(source)

…a Sunday with absolutely nothing going on. We woke up a little after 8 (after going to bed at 10:30…9 hours of sleep…heaven), went for a run, came back and stretched/did PT exercises (well I did), showered, went to grab a few things for the house, and were back on the couch by 2:30. We watched movies, I took a nap, did some yoga, and ate lots of delicious leftovers. Can we do this again next weekend, please and thank you?

…having the best mum a girl could ask for. My mum is one of the best people I know. She’s supported me through everything, is one of my best friends, and shows me the meaning of true, unconditional love every single day. I love you, Mum, and would be absolutely lost without you. Happy (belated) Mother’s Day!

Have a marvelous Monday!

What did YOU do this weekend? Have you ever made a frozen pie or used a grill? Is it cold where you live? What’s your favorite rainy day activity?

The moment when one turns their smartphone over after having dropped it face down and seeing the screen is not cracked and the phone is still in perfect working order.

Like cats hopefully your phone has 9 lives.

“Apparently we love our own cell phones but we hate everyone else’s.” – Joe Bob Briggs

“A good mother is irreplaceable.”
― Adriana Trigiani

K here, again. I want to somewhat go out of the BTR norm here, and talk today about my actual, blood family. But first, Happy Mother’s Day to all you mama’s out there–you are all truly a blessing and I hope you know the impact that you have in this world.

Specifically, Happy Mother’s Day to my mom (and I will get to one of my grandma’s in a moment–that will put us back on the BTR track) who has stayed with  me in the hospital so many times I’ve lost count. She’s slept on the couch with me when I was feeling sick and didn’t want to sleep in bed. She shoveled a LOT of snow with pneumonia a couple of years ago so she could take me to the doctor for some weird fungus that I had growing on my hands (that’s disgusting, I know, but all things considered, I’ve been through worse). She stayed with me when I moved to Des Moines, on an air mattress, unpacked my kitchen and organized it so I could sleep off the medicine from an upper endoscopy. She’s crazy enough to let me attempt to cook (with supervision) and she even let me into the superglue today (which I promptly superglued my fingers together, so that one won’t be happening again). She’s typically the first face I see when I’m coming out of surgery (or at least the first face I remember seeing), the one waking me up in the middle of the night giving me pain medication (or switching shifts with dad) and always inspires me to be my best.

Mom and I have our differences. She’s very naturalistic about how she wants to heal. I’m very “do whatever it takes, pump me full of this, that or WHATEVER WILL MAKE THIS STOP” and that’s caused some conflict. I am shamed to admit I have made my mother cry. She’s taught me more about life, the person I want to be, the people I DON’T want to be and shown me the growth I’ve had over the last few years more than most people do. When we fight, we fight loud. When we love, we love big. We are, as an example, Lorelai and Rory Gilmore–only with additional children, a father and three dogs. It’s like The Gilmore Girls meets We Bought a Zoo.

My entire family inspires me daily. They always encourage me. My mom was the one standing in the kitchen who watched me slide across the floor on my pant leg, running to answer my cell phone, and break my foot. She typically knows when I’m going to injure myself before I do it (and she’s typically right–Happy Mother’s Day, Mom, you get that in writing), and she’s still willing to help me pick up the pieces afterward.

My entire family is my rock, my strength, my joy and my sanity (and insanity, some days)–I love them, and thank them all–today, though, I really thank you, mama, for everything you always do for me and for always loving me–even when I don’t always deserve it.

A child needs a grandparent, anybody’s grandparent, to grow a little more securely into an unfamiliar world.  ~Charles and Ann Morse

Above is my grandma–my dad’s mom. This is when I grab my box of Kleenex and prepare to sob through the next part of this blog. On Nov. 2, 2012, my grandmother (and in turn, my entire family) lost her battle with Alzheimer’s Disease. Can I tell you when it began exactly? No. But I can tell you it was a rapid descent. I can tell you that the last few months of my grandma’s life, she taught more about life and love than ever possible.

My grandma and I shared, what my dad always said was a “special bond.” We had a love of Christian music, dancing, laughing, chocolate (a lot of chocolate) and I think it’s pretty safe to say that we both shared very large hearts–a desire to help others, regardless of the consequences. We also were a force to be reckoned with (in the sense that if you piss us off, you damn well better run the other way) and stubborn as a mule. Daddy says she always loved to watch me dance, and I always loved to perform for her–it was always special. She made everything special. She was a special person.

A few years before her disease progressed, she was able to spend Christmas in Iowa with the family, where I was able to sing one of her favorite songs (linked here), which made her cry, but little did I know that too few years later, I would be singing that same song at her funeral (this was my choice, I refused to let anyone else sing this song for my grandma but me).

Every day, we all deal with diseases that put our body through the ringer. We are torn inside out, we are pushed to our limits, and some days we feel like we’ve walked to hell and back.

I watched my grandma, a woman who stayed strong by my side through the years when the doctors could find nothing wrong with me and still encouraged me, deteriorate before my eyes. I watched her lose her ability to eat. To write. To walk. Some days, to even open her eyes. Some days, to speak coherently.

But you know what?

My grandma never, ever lost her ability to love. Alzheimer’s Disease is notoriously known for making people angry–for turning them into hateful people, and even when this disease was ripping my grandma apart, when we were losing her, she was still telling us she loved us. She was still squeezing our hands. She was still rocking her head back and forth to the music.

So often we get so angry with our diseases, that we forget to love. We forget that it could be worse. We forget to be grateful that we wake up. That we can walk, or talk, or do these minimalistic things that we take for granted because we’re so angry that we can’t do what we want to do.

I still get frustrated, of course, I still get angry. But when you look at that smile, when you think about some of the other things going on in this world or perhaps going on in your life–I hope you can remember to love, too.

Remember to love. Remember to live–because there are some who we’re missing today, and every day, that we wish were still able to do so.

Happy Mother’s Day, Grandma. I hope Jesus gave you chocolate.

Das, was du willst, ist nicht immer das, was dich froh macht.