never fully-clothed or intentionally misinforming

At a point in life when I'm pregnant, looking to save every penny I can, and welcome the tips of anyone who has a knack for any kind of savings solutions, the great debate of cloth versus disposable diapers seems to surface more frequently than any other suggestion. And it's probably the most polarizing recommendation I've heard yet. Every reaction from "oh god, no" to "best decision I ever made" has been uttered in front of me. Why such controversy?  As it turns out, cloth diapering can be pretty gnarly business. It never occurred to me that I would have to take a crap-coated towel off my child's rump, dump it into the toilet, flush, then swish the turdy towel around in the clean toilet water, before coating it in baking soda and setting it in a bucket to wait for a washer's worth of them to pile up. That does sound kind of like, "oh god, no" to me. That's just one perspective though. As one mom-friend was quick to point out,

Well, I've really done it this time. I'm three months from having our first baby, we're working on getting the nursery set up, JM is doing all the ladder work - taping off the ceiling and spackling any pin holes to prepare the walls for paint - it's going to be cornflower blue. We're having a boy. I'm behind him, spraying the last of the wallpaper with DIF remover (which, by the way, I later discovered contains a chemical known in the state of California to cause cancer... joy). Something makes him curious and he chips away at a piece of loose ceiling spackling in the corner. Black mold. Fuck. "Just go ahead and get out of the room while I see just how bad this is..." I'm waiting down the hall, in the kitchen and it just keeps getting worse. My tears start to well up. Just what am I supposed to do with this disaster? Every time we decide to dive into a home project we uncover some kind of puttied-over royal disaster the owner before us left b

I have this overwhelming desire to do better with my life, to find something more worth doing, to find a way to commingle my home happiness and my work happiness.  Maybe everyone feels that from time to time. Maybe not. Lately I have realized many of my friends have made a living doing what they love. I know entrepreneurs, writers, photographers, artists, and humanitarians. And I know me. And what do we all have in common? The passion for what we love so greatly. So how is it then that I find myself parked in a mildly satisfying, depressingly paid corporate job when my friends have found the way to feed their passions and fund their lifestyles?  What am I missing? Perhaps just the bravery to take he leap. I have a passion for something. And that is art. No, I won't get more specific for you. I love art - all mediums. I am a photographer. I have been a painter. I am a paper craftsman, a writer, and a ceramics amateur. I am many things and love all things related to art. And in the s

We went to the gym yesterday. It was pretty excellent. After almost convincing myself not to go, JM finally got my head right and talked me into going with him. I hit he elliptical pretty hard did 100 crunches before calling it a day and heading home to clean house. But before I left, I got the gym compliment so far - "you're looking slim! Whatever you're doing, keep it up; it's working."  Those two sentences, two sentences that took Ian just seconds to speak, will resonate with me until the next time someone says something equally as motivating. "You're looking slim!" When I don't feel like working out - "you're looking slim," when I'm tempted my treats brought into work by a client - "you're looking slim!" So I keep going. And I will keep going because it makes me feel better, stronger, and more confident. And you know, it's not that I'm not confident - I do love myself. I just want to be in the physical

If there has ever been a day that I wanted to get back in bed and snuggle over go to work, that day is today. And, honestly, who could blame me?

1. I resolve to write more frequently - I am off to a solid start on this one. Every once in awhile I think about how clear my mind was when I wrote more often. Granted, I had all the time in the world and an employer who didn't care - or maybe didn't know - what I was ever up to in the office. And I had time to stimulate my mind by reading, reading, reading all over the internet. As I type this, I recognize the excuses I'm making - time, time, time. News flash though - there are still 24 hours in a day; I have just become less skilled at managing them. Maybe writing took a back burner, maybe I dove into my new work, maybe I lost interest. Who knows. All I know is that I want to write again - I want to clear my mind and find my inspiration again. And I know writing will get me there. 2. I resolve to consciously ask more questions - I was spending time with the wife of a college friend over the weekend - a couple we are hoping to spend more and more time with this year

Two thousand thirteen. Ahhhh. What a wonderful year it was to me -- to us. We celebrated one year in our own home. We celebrated the engagements and marriages of several of our good friends. We celebrated eight years together. Then we got engaged in 2013. And two months later, even we got married. Our love has never been stronger, our lives never better. Everything is coming together - finally. As I look back on the last twelve months of my life, do I wonder about things I could have done differently? Better? Sure. But it's not exactly from a heinously critical perspective, but more a perspective of opportunity. I see where I can improve. Even more prominent though are the memories I have of adventures we've taken these last twelve months. The adventures are the best part. In January we found ourselves taking a drive to Gainesville to relive on of our first official dates and visit the Florida Museum of Natural History. It was there we took this picture - it's funny

We have never been more in love. This is going to be an amazing year.