acceptance and being in your thirties

I mentioned something to a friend the other week over brunch. We were both taking comfort in omelettes and home fries and telling each other our woes. A cathartic moment complete with eggs and potatoes. My favorite kind.

The conversation came down to this. Life is tough right now. When this happens, we find ourselves wishing we were in our twenties again. Being in your twenties. For most, there is such meaning in this phrase. It breathes and pulses with meaning, in your twenties. It is a time of its own, this decade that takes you from childhood to adulthood in a short ten years.

But what I said to her is that I wouldn't go back to being in my twenties again. Ever.

While there is plenty to love about being that young I found that the growing pains were, well, painful. Wonderful things happened to me (most importantly, meeting and marrying husband) but never again do I wish to go back to a time where I was so uncertain about myself.

It isn't being in my twenties that I miss. It is more that being in your thirties brings a lingering feeling that we are somehow supposed to feel like adults. You could even say there is a shift in what is perceived as acceptable. Alcohol fueled nights, crawling into bed without washing your face, kicking off shoes to walk barefoot on a dirty sidewalk, only filling your gas tank up halfway because you don't have enough money to fill it up all the way, not knowing what you want to do with your life… those are the acceptable things of your twenties.

But what happens when you are past the age where these things are the norm?

The thing is, life is rife with mistakes. Stops and starts. Re-tries and do-overs. There isn't a magic wand that waves over you when you pass age 29 that instantly pulls your life together. You won't instantly feel like an uber-adult and you won't instantly stop making mistakes when it comes to your life. And some of that uncertainty still rears up now and again. But what is different, at least for me, is the acceptance that life is going to be shit sometimes. And acceptance that it won't stay that way. And most of all, acceptance that a shit situation doesn't mean that you are doing a shitty job living your life. Just because your life is a bit of a mess doesn't mean you are a mess of a person. And just because you haven't quite figured out the ever important "what you want to be when you grow up" doesn't mean that you won't some day. And that, my friends, is ok.

Even on a bad day, even when I feel ugly, or that I can't get my act together, or that I am awkward in social situations I accept that I'm just having a bad day. That's all it is. Acceptance. That is why I like being in my thirties.

As a side note, if you are in your twenties right now then dear sweet baby jesus please go act that way. Don't try to rush it. Be stupid. Make mistakes. Dance on tabletops. Make a frivolous purchase on your credit card. Life goes on, it really does. I realize that being 32 doesn't qualify as a "ripe old age" but making it out of my twenties relatively unscathed does make me a little older and a little wiser.

the future has an ancient heart

 

I've mentioned Cheryl Strayed (aka Dear Sugar) before. The above is from one of her advice columns. Read the full column here. I just love it.

proof



Stumbled across this image of the amazing Bernini statue The Rape of Persephone. When we were in Rome a few years ago we unfortunately could not fit the Borghese Gallery, home of this statue, into our time there. However, we were staying nearby and upon walking by the museum spied the masterpiece through the window. It was one of those moments that truly feels like serendipity. We had a clear view, no one was around, and the gallery lights shone straight down like a spotlight. I think we stayed there - practically standing in the bushes -  for close to 30 minutes.

How is this even possible? To make stone look so much like human flesh. It's astonishing, really. In my eyes this is proof of a God given talent. How else can you explain this?

apple picking / camera play



In celebration of the first official day of my favorite season, husband and I went apple picking. The weather was beautiful, apple cider donuts were involved, and we had a great time (even though apple picking seems like something that is probably in Stuff White People Like). Happy fall, ya'll!

that point

There comes a point when you do realize that it will all be okay.



image found via here

bucket list

 

Seeing the aurora borealis (Northern Lights) is on my bucket list. My list is very informal. I don't have anything written down and and many of the things on my list I keep to myself. Not everything in life is meant to be shared, ya know?

In my experience, checking things off a bucket list is sometimes just a simple "Check! Done." Other times it is a truly amazing feeling. As long as I live I'll never forget arriving in Florence and walking toward The Duomo for the first time. I felt such joy. I can't think of another word to describe it but joy. Tears were in my eyes and I just kept thinking "I am so amazed to be here."

To me, a bucket list should entail seeing and doing things that make you pause and appreciate the wonder that there is in this world. Because I think that if you are living life right then the beauty in this world should be cause for amazement. Not all the time and certainly not every day, but sometimes.

I hope the world makes your breath catch every once in awhile.

What's on your bucket list?

driving in the car past curfew, age 17

She leaned her head out of the car window and smiled. Nightime in late August is a curious thing. The air seems to stand still due to humidity and there is a quietness about. The only real sound is the insect symphony. But sometimes if you listen close you can hear the grass growing.

The muggy air wrapped itself around her, she could feel it laying on top of her skin. August air will do that to you. People hate it but there is no feeling to rival it. Because August holds a secret. The secret that fall is coming.

She breathed in deeply and inhaled all the smells that August 20th had to offer. She caught a whiff of something both well-known and new at the same time. The smell of sweaters, leaves, water, horses, smoke, and old books with yellow pages. She always anticipated the fall. Most say that spring is the time of rebirth and new beginnings, but she strongly believed that fall is.

end o' the weekend





 

I was sans husband this weekend. I filled it with coffee, movies (and more movies), watching Smash on Hulu, A-Treat soda, and a trip into the city today to visit with my friend Addie. We concluded our day date with fancy cocktails at The Farmers' Cabinet. Now my head hurts due to a delightful drink called Agnes and the Merman. All in all, not a shabby weekend. Hope yours has restored you for the week ahead. Let's go live the dream, people.

P.S. This picture means nothing. It was the only decent shot I got all weekend.

these days

These days in our apartment there is a lot of...

Harry Potter watching
Sandwiches and Ramen noodles
Boxes we don't know what to do with
Tie picking out and shirt ironing
Finger crossing and praying

These days she...

Learns about composite decking at work
Carries her Kindle everywhere
Keeps up on nail polish trends for the fall
Appreciates great style and smart design
Calls him her favorite person

These days he...

Fixes bicycles
Realizes he does in fact like to work
Spends time "Facebooking"
Sneaks butter brickle ice cream
Calls her his sweetheart

good read

Do you read thrillers? And I don't mean Pretty Little Liars. Ahem. Amy. I am kind of a wuss and this is not a genre I tend to reach for. However, I have the utmost appreciation for authors who can pen a good thriller. A good thriller is one that gives me the willies and makes my stomach tense up in anticipation. I just finished Dark Places by Gillian Flynn. I could not put this book down. Dark Places is the story of Libby Day and the gruesome murder of her mother and sisters when she was a child. Her brother is in jail for the crime. But is he really the killer? Dunh dunh dunh. The story is told by Libby, now in her thirties, and in flashback by her mother and her brother. The truth unravels slowly, one bit at a time. At the start of the book I really disliked Libby, but as it went on I was hoping and praying she'd make it through the end. Good stuff, good read.

If you do like thrillers also check out Tana French's novels. Her characters are awesome.


Image: Sullivan Farm House by Gary Heller

happy end of the summer

This weekend... I did absolutely nothing. This stress of this summer kicked my butt and it finally caught up with me. I crashed and crashed hard. All I managed to do this weekend was sleep (and sleep some more), get a pedicure, watch three movies, and miraculously find butter brickle ice cream at a local dairy. If you don't know what butter brickle ice cream is then you haven't lived. I had all kinds of notions of doing fun things and sending summer out with a bang. Instead husband had to work on Saturday and Sunday at the bike shop and it rained all day today. I spent a large percentage of my time in pajamas and in bed. I am going to be real cranky when I have to get up before 9:00 tomorrow morning and put real pants on. Aren't you glad we put real pants on to take this picture? No thanks necessary.

Happy Labor Day, ya'll. Now bring on fall.