little dreams.

[our matching nose hoops.]

I'm really not a big jewelry person, nor would I ever advise my children to put holes in their bodies or get tattoos. But...I've always wanted to pierce my nose. My decision to do it didn't come easily either- but it was reenforced by my good friend Danielle while she was deciding whether she wanted to go be a nanny in Italy this year or not.

"Going to Italy is like piercing your nose- you'll regret you didn't do it once you're 30 years old, married with kids."

So I did it (made possible by Macie Sattelmayer & Katelin Johnson, who paid for it as an early Christmas present). It hurt so bad. My entire face felt like a nuclear explosion for a full 2 seconds. 2 seconds that felt like a million years. One giant tear rolled down my cheek.

I kept the little stud in for a whole 2 months, like a good girl! But the whole point of doing this was to get a hoop. "A pretty little gold hoop!" But when I went to switch my tiny stud for a big scary ring last night in Bev-Lea's bathroom, I couldn't do it. I fiddled over and over, and kept hurting myself, pushing it in every which way and never getting it right. It was like shrapnel. I looked at Bev-Lea (pictured; well experienced in the art of changing jewelry) with helpless eyes.

And she did what any good friend would do and stuck her finger up my nose, saying "VOILA!" after she had successfully circled it through my nostril.

Good friends are rare finds. Ones that perform minor surgery on your face are ever more rare. Hold onto those ones. But don't just hold onto those things you've always wanted to do. You'll always be able to justify not doing them, you'll always have an excuse to back out of something- but you won't be able to justify giving up the chance once the time is gone.

over the edge.

jordan limbo so good!

 "and happiness is what you need so bad, girl.

the answer lies 

with[in] you."

-led zeppelin

breathing out.

There's a Women's Group that meets at my apartment every Monday night, and we've been talking about vulnerability. How in order to create connection with others, you have to let your guard down and have the courage to be seen for who you are. You can't live within a fortress forever. Connection is necessary.

Late last night, I crashed my bike. I was riding through the fog down College Ave without my lights on. And my hat was falling over my eyes, so I was having to push it back a lot. I did this right as I was about to ride over a short curb, but I took it too parallel so my tire skidded against it and threw me off to my right. The pavement was like sharp sandpaper on my hands, and my knee smacked hard against the sidewalk, throbbing. The worst part about falling in public is that people always see you- this guy had been walking across the street when I fell and came running back towards me asking, "Are you okay?! Do you need help??"

"Yes! I'm fine! It's okay! I'm fine, gah...please just don't come over here. Oh geez."

I walked- well, limped- home and when I pulled my pant leg up to examine my knee, the blood was starting to flow down my shin and into my shoe. So I just sat on the edge of the tub, took a few deep breaths, but I couldn't stop the tears from welling up in my eyes. I let the heaves of sobs come over me like being pulled under a wave. When I'd come up for air, another would crash over my head. And it felt so GOOD. Well- I mean it felt horrible to be letting myself feel the heavy things I had been keeping outside of the walls of my soul for so long, but it felt RIGHT to let them overwhelm me, right there in my tiny bathroom with my leg bleeding out and my face soaked with salt water. Becky came over and gasped when she saw my leg- she rushed home and came back with anti-bacterial ointment and Lacey in tow so that maybe the three of us could figure out what to do about my silly knee!

Crashing my bike was necessary. It blew a gaping hole through the side of the fortress. Connection is necessary- with others and with yourself. Maybe sometimes the person you should be the most vulnerable with is yourself.