taking back lunchtime.

I'm a big believer in the idea that we have to create our own happiness and that if you dislike something you should change it. 

And I really, really dislike making my lunch every day. I dislike it to a degree of ridiculousness that is so extreme that I can counter it only with a ridiculous solution.

I used to make my lunch for the next day right when I walked in the door after work. First thing: purse down, wash yesterday's containers, load up tomorrow's.

But then I got to thinking.

You see, I feel the same way about picking out my outfits for work, so instead of doing it during the week, I pick them all out on Friday afternoon when I get home. It sounds crazy, right? And here's the thing: it is crazy. I will not deny it. But I love it when Monday morning rolls around and my outfits are lined up at the end of my closet, ready to go.

So if it works for my outfits, it could work for my lunches, too, right?

And so, we got to this: 

Organized chaos at its finest. First, I gather the troops: food, Rubbermaid containers, knives, lunch bags. Everything I'll need.

And then, I get to cutting and filling and lunch making. Every time I'm done with something, back in the fridge it goes. It's like a real life check list, unfolding before my eyes. 

Then I throw it in the fridge and bam. The weekend is only just beginning, and all of my least favorite weekly tasks are checked off. What could be better than that!?

And, that, my friends is how I took back lunchtime happiness. 

{PS: If this behavior surprises you, read this post. It'll all begin to make sense. #owningit}

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celebrate we will

Last week I went to J.Crew to look at a belt we got my mom for her birthday. And when I say look at, I really do mean I went there to admire it, because I couldn't justify buying it for myself. It was out of my budget.

When I got there, though, the belt had been marked down from $65 to $29. It still felt like a lot for a belt, but considering I loved it so much that I went there just to look at it, I thought it was worth it in gas alone.

[I'm a dangerously excellent justifier, if you ever need help in this arena.]

But then when it rang up, it was only $12. I was so happy.

I looked at the cashier and said, "Is today a holiday!?"
And she said, "No, but we're trying to make it one!"

I loved this. And I decided that sometimes, it's just a normal Wednesday. But sometimes, we make our own holidays, and pretend that even just a normal Wednesday is special. Sometimes I think I get in a rut of waiting for life to start: when I have more money, when I live near my family, when I meet my husband, when I am a grown up.

But today is today. And we're only guaranteed this moment. So, yes, we can - and should- be excited for what the next phase will bring. But we can't wait for it. Because it's the first day in May, and it's almost Friday and it's spring. Today is ours. It's a new-belt-wearing, ice-cream-deserving, go-for-a-long-run, kind of day. And to me, that's a celebration at its finest.

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on hurry, worry and loving the process

My cousin, Allie, was recently joking that in college, a typical weekend evening for me looked something like this: 

I'd go to one person's room and say: Jordan, can you paint my nails?

Then I'd go to another room and say: Allyson, can you pluck my eyebrows?

And then another one and say: Jamie, can you do my eyeliner?

...And down the hall I went until I was all done up and ready to go.

These skills aren't my strong suit and I was recently joking with someone about it and they said: Maybe you're so bad at painting your nails because you always hurry...

Now, had she seen me do art, ever, she might not be so inclined to give me the benefit of the doubt. 

However, it got me thinking about hurrying. I love getting stuff done, producing results and checking things off. It's so empowering. I'm a goal-oriented, end-results, check, check, check kind of person. 

But, I tend to forget that it's not always the end result that matters. Sometimes it's about the process along the way. The cake you make is beautiful, but what about the way you learn to mix ingredients, enjoy the kitchen and laugh at your mistakes before you put it in the oven? 

About two years ago I was in stuck in a rut of worrying and during the last few years, I've worked to break free from the pattern. And golly, it's so much more peaceful living with less worry. However, I've noticed that I start to worry more when I feel stuck. When I feel like I can't get to Z as quickly or as easily as I want to. When I feel frozen at M. Or even A. I worry, because I want to hurry.

But sometimes, I think it's important to remember that even though we'd really like to be on the other side of our worry, sitting at Z with a glass of wine and a carefree day, we can learn so much along the way. 

I recently heard that worry is a smaller way of saying we don't know if God will come through for us. It's our way of saying: listen here, just in case you don't have this one handled, I do. I'm going to micromanage and control and make plans, just to ensure everything is going to work out just how I'd like it to.

Wheeoo. Isn't that the truth?

The hardest part of all is that we often worry about the things we care about the most, which makes it that much more challenging to loosen our grip.

But today, I decided I'm throwing my hands up. There are plenty of things for me to worry about, because life can be hard and there is real hurt and pain on this earth. But by sitting in worry, we can't solve anything. We can't make the people we love hurt less. We can't get to our futures faster. We can't gain even an ounce of control. 

The best we can do is love those around us, meet each other where we are, give ourselves grace, and ask ourselves every day what we can learn from the process. And, of course, pray like crazy.

And who knows, maybe by the time you get where you want to be, you'll have learned more than you ever thought possible. In fact, you might even be able to paint your own nails. 

And that, my friend, is a tricky.

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fight the fright

Atlanta people: listen up.

Non-Atlanta people: book yourselves a flight here. Then listen up.

Unusually bossy, I am. But for good reason.

Last night I had the sheer pleasure of dining at my very first underground supper club, Porkman's Table.

The chef (and financial advisor by day), Ben Portman, hosts weekly dinners with the hope of "fighting the fright of Sunday night." 

You're intrigued, right? As was I.

The first step is to sign up for the mailing list. After you sign up, you'll receive an email mid-week with the menu. The first ten people to reply (from a mailing list of 400+), earn a spot at the table via a cryptic email: "You are in. Keep your eyes peeled for an email with details and directions." A few days later, you receive a follow up with the time and location, and that you will be greeted with a drink and a snack. Who will be there? What to expect? Completely blind. It's an adventure at its finest. 

In other words, it's my jam.

The food was some of the best I've ever had. There was leek bread pudding, herb and truffle stuffed hen, fennel ice cream -- and course after course of incredible combinations of ingredients I wouldn't dream of mixing. I felt like I'd walked into Top Chef's home, just down the street from my own. 

I don't claim to be a foodie, and, while obviously blown away by the food, my real weakness is ambiance. I'm such a sucker for a good vibe that I often don't realize I didn't actually enjoy my meal that much. I can't tell you what I ate, but wasn't the lighting great!? And the chalk board on the wall! And the bathrooms! 

Now, last night, I remember the food. It was unreal. But, true to form, the vibe was what filled me up the most. Melissa and I walked in knowing no one. We sat with seven strangers (plus one girl I just happened to know). We started the evening knowing nothing about the night, but by the end we were talking about weddings, celebrating a birthday and laughing at inside jokes from the prior course. It was the kind of natural intimacy that comes only when no one has stake in the conversation. We will likely never see one another again. We did not need to impress one another. We were just there to enjoy the experience. The conversation was relaxed, real and life-giving. It was the absolute perfect way to end the weekend, before slipping back into reality.

If you haven't already, sign up for the mailing list, and get your trigger finger ready. Your speed will be greatly rewarded come Sunday night.