book store visit!
Off weeks and off days…we all have these days that add a little spice(?) to our lives. I have a lot of these days….
Here is a random story from my weekend…
On Friday, I was rudely (haha) awoken by my alarm clock. Groaning like a hungry zombie I blindly felt for my cell phone to stop the horrible jingle that is telling me I can no longer sleep. I finally located it and held it above my head, squinting my eyes against it’s blinding light. As I dismissed the alarm, trying to decide if I should just close my eyes for five more minutes, slip!
The phone falls from my hand and smacks my face, right on my lip. OUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! For about five seconds I couldn’t breathe, speak, or think about anything but the sharp pain that shot through my face. Well, now I was awake. The sharp pain is replaced by a throb that pulses through my lip and up my cheek. I touched my lip and it felt like someone has cut open my skin and stuffed a peanut inside. I stumble to the bathroom, flick on the light. This was just a little phone…not a phone from the 1980’s or something. Wow! I almost laugh at my reflection, I look like I have just gone to a shady plastic surgery clinic and was injected with botox. But, other than the swelling, my lip is only bruised and gross on the inside, at least I can be thankful for that.
Over the weekend, I started to notice a blue hew above the left side of my lip. With each passing hour the hew became purplish spots. By Sunday the purple bruises had taken over. To my horror I noticed it looked like I was sporting a half-grown mustache from far away… Mortification! Even with foundation I couldn’t hide the bruise “stache”. So I’ve been keeping my head low at work and around town trying to be unseen. I definitely have gotten some weird looks. As I was thinking about my predicament, I suddenly realized I was experiencing “bad karma”; about 4 years ago I drew a mustache on my twin sister with a permanent marker while she slept. She woke up and the mustache was only half complete. (It was hilarious!) Four years later, now I have a half mustache. Andrea, I am sorry, so very sorry. Who knew my little phone could cause so much trouble? Curse my phone!
Where’s the weirdest place you’ve ever dropped your phone?
One by one the bricks were laid,
And with each brick
A wall was made.
Strong and thick the wall stood
It was a defender from evil,
But it kept out the good.
When people passed by
And saw the wall,
They had no idea why it was built at all.
The bricks were bare and plain.
It was cold to the touch,
Like a faceless name.
They never saw the beauty inside;
The wall was built
As a way to hide.
Behind those stone bricks
The most rare rose grew
But no one ever knew.
The rose was wrapped in a deep beauty
That was meant to be seen-
With ruby petals and leaves of deep green.
To the rose every person
Was the same-
They were cruel; masters of pain.
They would rip out her leaves
And trample her petals in the dirt,
They would bring her unimaginable hurt.
But hidden from the warmth of human touch
Trying to protect herself
The rose had lost so much.
Hidden behind her self made wall,
The rose didn’t think
She was lovely at all.
Her petals would fade as time passed,
The prison she was in, would be her mold’s cast.
The same form as the walls she’d hold,
As if she was made of stones, thick and cold.
Break down the wall-
Set her free-
But then we discover
That she holds the lock and key.
I am someone who builds protective walls; I’ve been hurt and with each hurt a brick was laid….but I found myself trapped and unhappy. We have to learn to trust and let people in . Yeah, getting hurt is a possibly but so many happy and wonderful moments will pass us by if we don’t risk and open up.
I have always wondered about the story behind this famous picture by Jean Guichard. The picture is called “The Wave” and is a photograph of the “La Jument” lighthouse off of the northern coast of France. And the question we really all want to know- Who is the man standing outside the door….and what happened to him after the picture was taken???
The story: The year was 1989 and a violent storm hit the Iroise Sea off the western coast of Northern France. The man in this picture is Theodore Malgorn, the lighthouse keeper. Theodore was waiting to be rescued by helicopter during the storm. Meanwhile, Jean Guichard, a photographer, hires a helicopter to take him out to sea during the storm so he could photograph La Jument. (CRAZY!) Theodore hears the helicopter, and thinking it’s the one that is going to rescue him, steps outside the door. But it is not a rescue helicopter…it is Jean Guichard- camera ready. He sees Theodore and snaps the famous picture. Did Theodore survive? Yes…by a hair. He ran back inside almost as soon as he stepped out, a move which saved his life.
I only have one word: WOW!
Have you ever had a close call or near death experience?
I wanted one thing when I headed to the beaches of Florida: to be tan. My Mom told me, “Autumn, why get a tan before you go to Florida? You do realize you will get tan when you are there…”
Arrive to the beach pasty white-probably so white that I would blend in with the white sandy
beaches of the Florida gulf? NOT AN OPTION.
I was headed back to Florida with my twin sister, Andrea, to visit college friends. I wanted to make the impression of the college graduate who is succeeding in the job world. (Yup…I was still working at my summer job at the zoo.) And my crush was still at school…so I wanted to show up sun kissed and gorgeous. I thought being tan would somehow help accomplish these goals.
All summer long I had been working with caterings at the zoo. Random Fact: A surprising amount of people actually get married at zoos. Who would have thought? And the one thing each and every bride had in common was their golden, flawless and goddess-like skin. I soon learned that their perfect tans were a combination of tanning beds and a spray tan. For a month before heading to Florida Andrea and I spent a small fortune on a tanning package which included: a very small bottle of special tanning lotion magic(that was the most expensive thing!), the best tanning beds and a free spray on tan.
I’m not sure if you can tell in my picture…but I am awfully white. And my nearly black hair doesn’t help the situation. My entire body rejects tanning…it’s like my skin wants to remain as white as possible. When I lived in Florida it took me forever to get a tan and when I got one if I wasn’t at the beach within two days it would vanish.
For a month I dutifully went to the tanning bed. I slathered myself in the magic lotion, put on the scary goggles and lay in a bed for the allotted time. On the day before our Florida road trip I still felt awfully pale. This was ridiculous. I looked nothing like the bronze brides that I had seen all summer long. Then I realized I still had one last key ingredient to achieve the bronzed goddess look: The Spray On Tan.
Late in the night Andrea and I went to the salon. We did our regular tanning session and then requested the spray on tan. I have never ever gotten a spray on tan, yet I was a believer. I believed the spray on tan would make my skin BEAUTIFUL. I decided to go all out and get the darkest option possible. My skin and I were fighting….and I would win. I was going to be tan!
I stepped in the little black room that resembles a shower. Wearing an old bikini I stood on the silver cold squares that looked like foot prints. I faced the sprayers that were attached to the wall and closed my eyes. I waited. And waited….and right before I peaked open my eyes to see if the thing was working, I was shot with a spray of freezing icy tanning liquid. It is so cold it literally makes you jump. After the chilly tanning shower was over I patted any excess liquid off as instructed, and stepped outside feeling like a new woman. The girl that worked at the salon told my sister and I not to take a shower for at least 12 hours.
The problem was we were leaving bright and early (6:00am!) for our road trip. What was a few extra hours? (like an extra 14 give or take a few hours?) We decided we would just shower when we arrived in the hotel in Florida.
As the hours wore on and on on our non-stop drive to Florida, we started to notice something. Was it just the lighting in the car or was our skin turning….orange?
When we arrived at our hotel I noticed that when Andrea stepped out of the car and into the sunlight she really did look orange…just like the fruit. Maybe it was just the tint on my sunglasses? I’m sure that’s what it was. We threw our suitcases on the bed and I ran into the bathroom. Then I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I almost fell over. I screamed and Andrea joined me in the bathroom. We weren’t two bronze goddesses… we were ompa loompas…and it didn’t help that we are twins…short twins. I was in the shower for a good hour trying to scrub the orangeness out of my skin to little avail.
And yup…I’ve never gotten a spray on tan since!
Have any bad tanning experiences? What do you think of spray on tanning?
This is a poem I wrote a few days ago about something I love and hate: change.
The Glass Jar
The glass jar hit the ground
Shattering into tiny pieces all around
Glittering-catching the sunlight
The shattered pieces were a breathtaking sight.
Never to be whole again
The glass knew this with a small pain
But it liked its’ new form-
Glittering like stars after a midnight storm.
Life is like the glass,
Changing quickly, changing fast.
In a moment the glass forever changed
All its’ pieces rearranged.
The glass was happy for a while,
A spread out, sparkling pile.
But the sparkle began to fade,
And the glass remembered for what he was made.
Life’s course takes us new ways
But sometimes we long for those past days.
Though we glitter like a star,
We long once again to be a glass jar.
Turn back time? It’s simple enough-
To pick up all the broken stuff?
The glass’s pieces were gathered together
But suddenly he knew he had changed forever.
Can life take us on a path too far-
To forget who we are?
Can we return to home’s door-
To find it is not our home anymore?
The glass jar was glued together;
His new shape was even better.
Not every piece found and no longer smooth
The light caught every flat edge and uneven groove.
The glass jar was a new shape,
Carved and molded by life’s fate.
Changed forever and yet the same
The more light he could tame;
More beauty and purpose he had found
From falling on the ground.
Change in life can be hard
We are afraid it will leave us scarred.
But change can make us stronger,
Shine more beautifully and longer.
Have you ever had a moment where you were stranded and made the most of it?
On my way to work, this question was presented to me via the radio. I was like…huh…that is a great question!
When I was 5 years old, my Dad was stationed to a remote area in Alaska. We packed up everything in our brown and tan Volkswagen Van (it was pretty epic) and left our home by the
pacific ocean and headed north. Just to state an obvious fact….Alaska is VERY far away. I’m not sure how long it took us to get from the middle of California to Alaska but it was an eternity to my 5 year old brain. I remember being restless and just longing to run around and explore. On some lonely road in the middle of Canada at about 2 a.m. our trusty van decided to throw in the towel. All I remember is waking up squished with my sisters in a seat in a tractor trailer and hearing the news that our van was being towed to the nearest (which wasn’t very near) mechanic shop. The mechanics looked over the car and it was bad. So bad we had to get a new engine. Which in the middle of nowhere in Canada would take two weeks. We were stranded. When I was little I was one of those kids who was obsessed with adventure and had a wild imagination so the idea of being stranded was thrilling. For several days we camped out at the mechanic shop, sleeping in the van. My Dad took me and my sisters on little excursions into the woods behind us and we ate food made over a camp fire and talked and laughed. I felt like I was an explorer or a pioneer as we lived off of rice and coffee. One of the employees at the mechanic’s shop took pity on us. He insisted we stay at his families house in one of the spare bedrooms until the engine for our van arrived. The mechanic shop employee’s family took us in, like we were apart of his family or old friends. They were AWESOME. I remember going on a trip to see an massive waterfall and playing with their kids and seeing the Northern Lights and eating the best waffles I have ever had. Being stranded we met an amazing family that took strangers into their home, we roughed it in the Canadian wilderness, and made memories that I still remember being as fun and exciting.
Sometimes being stranded can be a great thing. It gets us off course a little, it makes us improvise, it makes memories.
Do you have a story about being stranded? Where’s the craziest place you have you been stranded?