It is between the second and third weeks of advent, and between the Christmas play at church (I was the main angel that lit up with lcd lights...I know), decorating the house, and bringing in a beautiful little fraiser tree, we have been properly preparing. There are still cookies to bake, presents to hunt for and wrap, Christmas movie marathons to be had, four main food groups to stick to--candy, candy canes, candy corn, and syrup--and a special service to attend. Last night, I'm fairly certain I ruptured my vocal cords from singing The Twelve Days of Christmas (fiiiive golden riiiings), and tonight I'm listening to Christmas music and picking superglue off my hands (it takes great talent to accidentally get a whole tube all over your hands). Oh, despite my (very) frazzled brain, I'm getting into the Christmas spirit alright.

What Christmas-y happenings have been going on in your homes?

listen while you read: winter song

Ernest Hemingway said to write clear and hard about what hurts. Here's what hurts: nostalgia. It hits hardest in the winter, when trees are bare and the sunshine is weak and the long nights just mean more time to reminisce. These photos are from Germany this past summer, ones that never made it to the blog but are cherished none the less. They are taken in Telgte, the little town where my grandparents live and where my mom grew up. The streets are cobblestoned and the church chimes every hour; the bicycles are many and so are the cafes. A five minute bicycle ride one direction takes you into the clean, sweet-smelling fields and a five minute bicycle ride in the other direction takes you into the village square and the best ice cream in the world, churned in the tiny kitchen in the back of the shop.
Here's the thing about traveling: once you get a taste of what the world can be like, you're never satisfied by staying in one place ever again. You leave little pieces of you in every city you visit, every plane and train and bus you climb in, every person you meet, and saying goodbye never gets easier. But for every piece you leave, you gain another until you're a hodgepodge of places you've been and things you've seen. I guess that's why my thirst for travel can never be satiated.

a few forgotten frames from this month

I am grateful for November, the month of conscious thanks. But now November is ending, and with it, unfortunately, the global effort to be grateful. The sky is gray and the tree branches are spindly; Christmas decorations sift through the cracks bit by bit and wishlists grow longer by the minute. This past month will fade quickly just like the ones before it and thankfulness will be forgotten until next November rolls in again. My prayer is to stop wishing for the things I don't have and start being grateful for the things I do. Instead of moaning on the couch about not knowing what to do with my life (this has happened more than once over the past few weeks), I will be grateful I have a future to plan for. Instead of lamenting that so many of my friends live so far away, I will be thankful for the friends that live near me. Instead of complaining that I don't have anything I want to wear, I will give thanks for the clothes that fill my closet. Instead of wishing I had someone else's life, I will be grateful for my own. I will forget and fall back into self-pity, but in the morning I will try again to be grateful for the big, the small, the mundane, the hard, the nights spent crying, and the days spent laughing.
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"You mustn’t wish for another life. You mustn’t want to be somebody else. What you must do is this: 'Rejoice evermore. Pray without ceasing. In everything give thanks.' I am not all the way capable of so much, but those are the right instructions.” (Wendell Berry)

"things that say a lot about people:
the way in which they treat the waiter/waitress
how they feel about the weather
whether they dog ear pages or highlight in books
fingernails
and hands in general
their preferred creative outlet
how much they dread/enjoy talking on the phone
whether or not they drink coffee
if they ever forget to eat
how honest they are with themselves (and others)
if they correct your grammar
and whether or not they get nervous before haircuts."
by this person via these people (lillian, katie)

i. I treat waiters and waitresses just like I treat any other stranger--cautiously polite, not overly friendly but still with a smile. I want to start being more friendly with them, though. People, myself included, tend to take the ones who work in restaurants and stores and cafes for granted. Since I started working in retail (that's a story all of its own), I've been more aware of other workers in stores because I know what it's like to be on the "other side"--so I take a moment to ask them how they're doing and properly fold those jeans instead of tossing them on top of the pile.

ii. Warm, sunny weather is my favorite--it makes me feel more alive and energized--but I need a good rainy day every once in awhile, too, so I can linger in bed for a few more minutes and drink my chai extra hot. I get easily depressed after more than three or four days without sun, but I prefer rain over clouds; if it's going to be dark and depressing outside, it may as well rain. Cold days and colder nights are nice too; I sleep best under the warm, heavy weight of blankets on the bed (though sleeping with just a sheet in the summer is marvelous too). I tend to talk about the weather too much because it has such a great impact.

iii. I used to be deathly afraid of marking up books and dog earing pages, but I've been getting better at being not quite so OCD. My bible is full of pencil underlines and notes in the margins and I'll circle passages and star quotes in the books I own.

iv. My fingernails are kept short because I think they look messy and unkempt when they're long. They're usually painted some shade of coral or turquoise and my cuticles are almost always a mess--I pick at them when I'm distracted or bored and it's really a terrible habit. My thumbs are usually the worst.

v. My hands are average, neither rough nor particularly soft. They get cold easily. They're fairly large and my fingers are long; I have a particularly large reach when I'm playing piano. I always have a brown hairband around my right wrist, and sometimes a watch too. The amount of bracelets I wear depends on my mood.

vi. Writing or photography are my creative outlets of choice, though it's usually one or the other. When I'm in a writing mood, I'm usually not in a photographic one and visa versa. Sometimes I take some photographs, let them ripen for awhile on my hard drive, then revisit them after awhile and try to write something fitting.

vii. I don't like talking on the phone--I'd much rather text or better yet, talk face to face. The moment between dialing the number and the other side picking up makes my heart thump hard. It's hard for me to properly communicate because I can't see the other person's face and they can't see mine, although sometimes that's a good thing because I blush so easily.

viii. I really only drink coffee iced, but I'm picky about the coffee I drink. I like the smell better than the taste. Chai tea is more my thing, but it has to be very strong and not too hot.

ix. My life pretty much revolves around food, so no, I almost never forget to eat. Food is my friend.

x. When I'm lonely, I'm not very honest with myself. I console myself with the thought of someday and it usually works, but there are those moments when I wake up in the middle of the night gasping because even though I'm not always honest with myself, my dreams are. I'm most honest with my family and close friends, but I'm not exactly dishonest to other people either--it's easier for me to just say that I'm doing fine than trying to explain why I'm feeling blue.

xi. I am a grammar nazi, not going to lie. I correct grammar mentally all the time, but don't usually confront people about wrong grammar because then I'd have more enemies than friends.

xii. Haircuts scare me. It's not the actual cutting and pampering that make me want to crawl in a hole, but rather the conversation. There's something strange about sitting (defenseless) in a chair while trying to make small talk with a total stranger who has a pair of scissors in their hands. But! I mustered up the courage to go in for a trim and some bangs the other day...I haven't had bangs since I was four years old and I'm still getting used to them, but it's a nice change nonetheless.

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feel free to use this for a post on your own blog...or answer in the comments!