what i want you to know

Do what you love.

Travel often.

Open your heart to new experiences.

Go out and be the person you want to be.

My dear, what I want to tell you is that some days you won't do these things. Some days you will be broke, some days you will be sad, some days you will work a joyless job simply because you have to.

Sometimes you won't go on vacation, you won't travel to see the world, you won't "get lost in the experience of life."

Because you know what? You are living your life to the best of your ability and working to pay the rent. Frankly, right now you are too damn busy holding it all together to analyze the meaning of your life.

Please don't beat yourself up. What I want to stress to you is that all of this - the not doing -  is okay. It is okay and screw anyone else that tells you otherwise. Because this, real life, is what being an adult is about.

It won't be forever, it will change. Maybe not for a long time, but it will change. In the meantime, hold tight. If you are folding t-shirts or filing folders take pleasure in the fact that you have kick-ass taste in shoes.

hello, lover



image via Anthropologie

yay or nay

What are our feelings on the messy ponytail? I myself have rocked it before. Although, let's be honest, probably half those times were not on purpose. While it is never as effortless looking as a J. Crew model and sometimes I wonder if people think I forgot to look in a mirror before leaving the house, my hair can dig a messy ponytail. It is something my hair can handle and it works on the first try. Most likely because any day now I am going to wake up and have sister wives hair. Let's just say my hair has been a tad difficult lately. Between the growing out of the bangs and the "I'm too lazy and broke to do anything" hair color, I might just go all Britney on you and shave my darn head.

Alright, I am done boring you with the life and times of Julia's hair. Messy ponytail... yay or nay? Talk amongst yourselves.



images from here, here, and here.

egg sandwich

Is there anything sadder than sitting alone on a Friday night with nothing but an egg sandwich for dinner? (Ok, yes there is. I just spent 5 minutes trying to decide if 'sadder' is a real word. Yay for journalism school.) I've had to learn to deal with being alone a lot this year. And while I generally enjoy my own time at the end of a long week and, as an introvert, need alone time to recharge... sometimes ya know what? Being alone makes me feel lonely. 

Relocating is hard. And relocating without your husband by your side? Frankly my dears, it sucks big time. Real, real big time.

I don't regret our decision to do this. I know it will get better. But there are days when I miss husband so bad it hurts, and I miss my friends, and a boring egg sandwich makes a lonely Friday night even more sad (er, sadder... I think).

swoon

I recently stumbled across the work of Michael Graydon. How amazing are his images? (the answer is very amazing) I swear, they are living novels. My heart practically aches when looking at them.

 Please take me away to live in these places.

my guy

What I wouldn't give to have coffee with this handsome guy right now. That's all.

home

The house is empty. End of the day sunlight at a slant through the window. She sits on the floor in the middle of the room.  Eyes closed, inhaling the smell that only this particular house holds. The scent she carries on her jackets and in her luggage. It is the scent of her home.

The bare walls talk to her. They tell her the story of her childhood. But not in words.

She hears the lawn mower. The hose being turned on. Sounds of the neighborhood kids yelling to one another down the street. A basketball’s hollow thunk, thunk next door. The slam of the front door on the house down the cul-de-sac. The slap of feet on the linoleum in the kitchen and the tic-tic-tic of a dog’s toenails following. The creak of the floor boards upstairs.

The walls have more to say.

She feels the breeze on the back of her neck while sitting on the patio. The way the family room carpet feels on the back her legs. A dog's damp nose on the back of her arm. The roughness and heat of the driveway on her bare feet. How the grass under the crab apple tree stays cool in the shade. The weight of a ponytail hanging down her back.

She listens to the walls. She hears and she feels her home, her childhood. But what it amounts to, what she sees - is love.

i think martinis are a staple here

Next on my list of places to go is Palm Springs.

I feel like just being near these houses would make me a cool cat...





images found here, here, here, here, and here.

fragments of thoughts right now

Is it terrible that I sort of want to go see The Lucky One?

Grosse Pointe Blank is a highly underrated movie.

One day of rain is enough for me. Seattle and I could never be best friends.

Who vs. whom always trips me up.

Butterscotch as a sundae topping doesn't get enough credit.

Should I buy a white denim jacket or a regular denim jacket?

here's to norma

Our mail carrier left us a note yesterday in our mailbox. Norma has delivered mail to our house for as long as I can remember. She leaves friendly notes at Christmas and used to throw dog treats out of her mail truck to our dogs.

I read Norma’s note, wishing my parents congratulations on the quick sale of the house (and that it must have been my dad’s hard work on the yard that caused it) and best of luck with their new adventure. Oh, and a reminder that I hadn’t sent in a forwarding request yet.

I read Norma’s note. And I lost it.

Not just a few tears, but deep sobs. Red eyes and runny nose included. The kind that cause hiccups. The kind that cause you to call your husband and cry to him that you’re sad about the loss of your childhood home and that – sob! – you ate two donuts today and a lot of chocolate. Seriously? Does that really matter right now? ‘Course he didn’t understand a damn word you said because you were crying too hard. And it was really too dumb to even repeat.

The kind that, after you’re done, you take a huge breath and it feels like the clearest, best breath you’ve ever taken.

It wasn’t necessarily the note's words that made me cry. It was the fact that I was lucky enough to grow up in a place where nice mail ladies names Norma know your name.

hello, lover



image via madewell

a conversation between girlfriends

I stumbled across a disc of photos I had forgotten about. The disc contains some candid photos of my wedding weekend. These are among my favorites. Even though I don't remember what were talking about, I bet I could come close to recreating the conversation just based on our facial expressions.

I love that I recognize every mannerism and laugh and look in these photos even tough I haven't see any of these ladies in quite some time. I know exactly what Cheryl's laugh sounds like because of the way she is holding her hand to her mouth. I know that Leslie is making fun of me because of the way she is pointing at me. I know that Emily is telling me I'm full of it because of the set of her chin.

There is something special about girlfriends. (Truth be told, a part of me will always feel a little sorry for the opposite sex.) Especially those girlfriends. The ones you link arms with, the ones whose clothes you borrow, the ones you don't need to pretend with, the ones you say "I love you" to. These girlfriends are the ones that make being a female pretty darn great.

good read

There came a point while I was reading The Night Circus that I thought this book was going to crush me. I thought to myself, "this is not going to turn out the way I need it to and I am not going to be okay." I was seriously invested. And while it is not a picture-perfect ending (because the best books never are), I am happy to report that it did not crush me.

To me, the author's words in this book are magic. Check it out and let me know if you feel the same way.




image via here

a thank you

Dear Washington, DC:

I spent seven years of my life with you.

With you, I stumbled - kicking and screaming -  into adulthood.

Redefined what family means. Married my love.

Had a job (well, a few) that brought me no joy so that I knew what I needed to look for.

Learned to pay my bills. Learned how to make friends without the safety blanket of college.
And learned to ask for help.

For this, I thank you.

With love,
Julia



P.S. - But you can take the Beltway and shove it.

currently digging / for your viewing pleasure

yay or nay

The socks with shoes trend. How do we feel about this? Because I think I'm going to pull the trigger (I can hear husband's eyes roll around in his sockets from here). Talk amongst yourselves and get back to me.




images one & two via the sartorialist, images three & four from unknown sources

the healing power of a cuppa tea

I believe in it. Oh yes, I certainly do.

hollywood cemetery / camera play

A few photos from our visit to Hollywood Cemetery in Richmond. A haunting, yet beautiful place that serves as a tribute to the Confederate soldiers of the Civil War.

hello, lover

image via Anthropologie

happy birthday, kristen!

I've tried writing this post a number of ways. And erased my words each time. Because this is hard. There are very few people who know me as well as Kiki knows me. And very few that I feel I know just as well.

So I'm going to make this brief.

I hope that everyone has a friend like Kristen in their lives. One who has seen you through braces and bad hair and embarassing crushes on boys. Through distance and life changes, she is your comfort. She knows what you are thinking because, most often, it is the same thing she is thinking.

Happy birthday, Kiki. I hope you know how special you are to me. xoxo.