project time

Please excuse a few haphazard photos to show off a couple of my recent projects.  The first is an ode to Pinterest, a Thanksgiving banner made of leftover cardboard, a fifty cent spool of ribbon, and watercolor paint.  (I spent the better portion of the morning cutting out shapes for a couple more banners as well.  It was a giant piece of cardboard and I really wanted it gone.)

And this is my latest painting endeavor, a Saturday afternoon project that has left me rather pleased.  It was inspired by the quote within it.  "Some people feel the rain, others just get wet."  I really hope I'm one of the people that feels the rain.

What can I say?  There's been a desperate need for artwork on our walls as we await the arrival of our belongings.  I can only handle bare walls for so long.  Like, twenty-four hours.  No joke.  This has got to be some sort of record for me.

it's science

This is Mr. F on date night.  He went and got us ice cream, ate his share while I talked to my mum, then locked himself in our room.  I came in to find him putting together our new desk.

"I get why IKEA is so popular!"

"Because it's cheap?'

"No! It's like Legos for adults! Have you seen these directions?  This is awesome!"

I really like this guy a lot.

because...

jet lag is killing me, my brain hurts from making so many life decisions, and I just don't want to think anymore, I'm sharing some silly.

These little cards have been providing me with so many smiles and even more inspiration for projects I'd like to tackle as soon as I can find my paints.  They're from the Florida based stationery company, Rifle Paper.  It's probably a good thing I left the States when I did, because it's a lot harder for me to get my hands on these pretties nowadays.  But oh, are they darling!  Absolutely love them!  Aren't the postcards such a great alternative to the traditional Christmas letter?  le sigh...  So much cute, so many countries in the way.  I'll have to make my own, I guess!

nyquil

 

 

Dear Body, 

Hey, it's me!  Engquist!  Just out of curiosity, why don't we sleep anymore?  This stopped being fun about two weeks ago.  Really.  I know there's a lot to think about right now, but I need rest so  I can actually get everything accomplished.

I finally took nyquil last night at two because there was no glimpse of rest on the horizon.  The sun was approaching faster than sleep.  What gives?  Mr. F dozed peacefully next to me for hours.  I read, made a few lists, played on the ipad, drew a few sketches, surfed the internet.  Nothin.  I was tired, I could feel it.  Still can.  But no, you refused to sleep.

Do you and my subconscious have some unresolved issues we need to work through?  Is there a reason you're avoiding sleep?  And don't tell me you're trying to get on the eastern time zone already, that's just not gonna fly.  Something's up and you've just got to deal with it!   We've all got stuff to do right now.  I need you fully functional so I can pack and clean and hop on the first of who knows how many planes in two days.   You didn't freak out like this when I got married, why now?

Hang in there body, we're all nervous about this one.  But it's going to be so much fun!  

Love, 

engquist

 

 

cranford

I had it in my hands. Ridiculously cool copy of the Elizabeth Gaskell novel I'd been wanting to read. And it was on clearance. Super clearance. And it was my birthday. It was fate.

I walked it up to the register and handed it to the clerk.

"I know," I laughed, "Leave it to me to find a book at Anthropologie."

The clerk smirked and responded, "I wasn't thinking that at all. I was noticing the recipe in your bag. Are you a cook?"

The folded card was indeed falling out of my over sized Vera Bradley tote, a remnant of my trip to Ikea.

"Not really," I said. "I'm Swedish and just came from Ikea and like collecting recipes from them to tap into my heritage."

"Oh cool! You just struck me as a person who would throw dinner parties."

And that was it. The coolest compliment anyone had ever given me. I look like a person who would throw dinner parties. I look like a sophisticated type of person. Cultured even. Who can strike up witty conversations and keep guests entertained. A well-dressed person with a cool looking house.

According to that clerk, I had already become the dream version of who I want to be. Sweet!

marian

Due to aforementioned reasons, the past couple of days have been rather hard on me. Thanks to an abundance of phone calls, a lovely (and ever so helpful) visit from my dad, The Tall Guy, I was able to go to work today. Because of this, I have a funny story to share.

Backstory. I have always been a geek, and I've loved every minute of it. I was shy and quiet and not very sure of myself. It has only been in the past year or so that I've a) really started liking myself, and b) started thinking well of myself. This includes regarding myself as attractive. (I'm not begging for compliments here, people, I'm just tellin' it how it is.)

That said, when I got to work there were these two teenage girls here. Honestly, if I were sixteen, we'd probably be friends. A little quirky, bookish, but fun. They kept asking me for help with the locations of various odd books and I felt solidified in the idea that me and these girls were cosmically connected.

Included in their posse was this boy. Shaggy blond hair, fitted tan corduroy jacket, eccentric shoes. If I were in high school, this would be my Pedestal Crush. You know, the guy that you think is too cool for you but you worship from afar? That was most definitely him. I got a fiendish delight in such thoughts.

Then he came up to me to introduce himself. He gave me his name, mentioned that he was the girls' math tutor, wanted to know if I was single, etc, etc. I wanted to burst out laughing. This was my iconic Pedestal Crush and here he was, shuffling from foot to foot trying to muster up the guts to talk to me. I was supposed to be the awkward one, not the cute one that makes the situation apparently unbearable for the approaching party. I let him down gently, knowing what it felt like to be in his shoes, never thinking I'd ever be approached in such a way.

And then? Then I smiled like the high schooler I felt like inside. The cool guy thinks I'm cute! I'm pretty? I'm pretty! I'm the pretty librarian! This officially takes care of about six dreams I've always had for myself, all in one night. I freaking love working at the library!

why I always have a tissue on hand

In the 1993 film Sleepless in Seattle, there's a scene where Rita Wilson sits at a table with Victor Garber and Tom Hanks. She recounts the closing moments of the film An Affair to Remember. This part has always been particularly amusing to me as she begins weeping as she explains how the story pans out. Her voice gets squeaky and incomprehensible. This sort of reaction is something I never fully understood, so I found it humorous. Until recently that is.

I'm turning into one of those women who cries over Hallmark commercials. No joke. Lately, all it takes is a bit of news on the radio to set me off and I start crying. Sometimes it's just a delicate drop. But then, then there are my Rita Wilson moments when I full-on get emotionally involved in something for no good reason at all. Tears. Big. Fatty. Gushing-down-my-cheeks sort of tears.

What am I reacting to? The other day I began weeping over the new standards for mammograms as issued by an independent agency last week. Pushing the base age for mammograms to fifty was apparently a travesty in my life, because I all out wept while listening to the NPR report. Then there are songs like this, which make me weep no matter how many times I listen to them.

Sundays tend to be brutal for me. If I am somehow able to catch Music and the Spoken Word, the chance that I'll make it through the day without tears disintegrates into a pile of nothingness. Today I made it through my dad, the Tall Guy, being asked to speak in church on the spur of the moment. He offered his humble testimony of his knowledge of the life of Jesus Christ. I only made it through that without tears because, well, I didn't look at him through the whole thing. I just couldn't do it. Follow this up with several amazing lessons, stimulating conversation, a couple cheesy Hallmark Christmas movies, and this, and I've been crying off and on most of the day. What the heck?