A little help from my friend. (Or, my new goal.)

Ahem, ahem. Attention. Is this thing on? I just wanted to let everyone know that I now, officially, have a new goal in life. What is it you ask? World peace? A cure for AIDS? A business model that finally makes newspapers profitable again?

Hahahaha. Of course not. My new goal: To get the Macy Mutt to take over all chore-related duties at home.

Hahaha, you say. IMPOSSIBLE. There's a little thing called opposable thumbs standing in between you and your goal, Noodles.

Pawshaw, I say. Just watch.

Love. Love. Love.

Written by Katie at Y our Courageous Life and posted on Kind Over Matter.

Awesome sentiment, don't you think?

Christmas Quilt. Redux.

I started working on this in August. Got sidetracked by life. Picked it up again briefly in September for a few days. Got sidetracked by life. Blogged about it. Got sidetracked by life. And finally just sat down for five hours this weekend to piece the top quilt together.

I'm planning to back it with a thin teal fleece while quilting it with a warm red thread. Here's a few pictures of the quilt, outside my church on Sunday morning.









The pattern, in case you're curious, is an improvised In and Out quilt by Blue Underground Studios. I added sashing (the white bits on the side) and tweaked the dimensions. I'm still debating the best way to quilt it.

Thoughts?

P.S. One of the cool things about the original quilt pattern is that it was inspired by Chicago's urban architecture. It's a reflection of the windows in downtown building. Click on the "in and out" link above to visualize.

Summer fades to fall.

The leaves are changing. I smell fireplaces burning at the huge houses down the street. The air is crisp. (So what if it was 80-something yesterday?) It's fall in Chicago. And fall is, by far, my favorite season. Sure, sure it's my best wardrobe. And who doesn't love the return of boots and sweaters? But I love the circle of life that comes with fall. I love the idea that just like leaves, we shed the things we've outgrown and no longer need, take time to hunker down and be and rejuvenate, and then bloom, renewed when we're ready to shine. It's corny, I know. But to me, fall is powerful. It's always been.

Of course, in Chicago fall lasts approximately 3 weeks before winter sets in. (Truth: my first year here I was at work and got sent out to cover an Oprah taping with Bono on Michigan Ave. for the kick off of Project Red. It was Oct. 6. And it snowed while we were waiting in a scrum outside the Gap.) So when it's this gorgeous weather in between the stiffling heat of summer and the too-cool-to-sleep-with-the-windows-open of late fall and the early hints of winter, one of the single purposes of my life in the Windy City is to be outside.

Which is why I found myself in Oak Park three weeks ago hanging with some of my best friends in the world, cooking out, sipping wine, letting the puppies go nuts and basking in the awesomeness of the changing seasons.

Here are some pictures of a simple-yet-lovely afternoon.






And so my bloggy peeps, what about you? Is it fall in your world yet? What do you do as the temperature changes? What do you love about the season?

Fa-la-la-la-laing

My calendar says September. My mind is on late December and the Christmas holidays. The season sneaks up so quickly, especially when I have the comical idea in my head (and with the best of intentions) that I'm going to try to do handmade gifts for my best girlfriends.

So what am I doing right this very moment? (I mean, other than typing this blog, smartass? Don't make me come over there.) Making up my holiday shopping list. Relatives, 'rents, girlfriends, and church friends are going on there and everything from fresh-baked bread and cookies to something Amy Butlery and AWESOME are on my list.

Of course, I'm me. So I'm freaking out about how I'll get everything done in time. And budgeted accordingly. But, whatever. I LOVE the holidays. I love the smell of the kitchen and the way my condo smells when I come home to my fresh(ish)-cut tree. I love the colors. The smiles. I love the time together with the people I love the most. I love caroling on the church porch. I even like the snow and the cheesy animatronic window displays at Marshall Field's Macy's.

Mmmmmmmmm.

So before I get it in my head that I'm going to bake some sugar cookies RIGHT! THIS! SECOND!, I thought I'd ask where you are in your Christmas planning? Are you one of those obnoxious people who's done by July? Are you a Christmas Eve at the mall type person? Handmade? Latest gadgets?

Scene from my life.

Who: Me and my across-the-country co-worker bff.
What: A scene from my life. Or, why you should never get between me and my coffee fix.
When: Today, roughly 2 p.m.
Where: My desk.
Why: Because I'm an asshole.
How: IM conversation.

And, scene!

Me: So, I know I'm trying to be all mindful and not material and shit, but the effing coffee shop didn't give me my double-tall, extra-hot, non-fat latte.
Me: Instead, I just walked back to my desk and found out that all I got a regular Chai.
Me: Fuckers.
Her: So you're being the opposite.
Me: Yes. And I want my latte back. I'm bitter.

....
(At this point, we veer off topic. And I continue my amazement/bafflement/ashamed-at-my-own-materialism rant after discovering our church's young adult volunteer and his five housemates live on a $550 monthly household food/toiletry budget and they each get $100/month to cover ALL their incidental expenses. While living in Chicago. Then we talk about her two friends who've been laid off. Then we feel shitty. And grateful for what we have.)
...

Her: We really are lucky. This isn't shit to complain about.
Me: I know. But I'd be EVEN LUCKIER if I had the caffeine I needed.



This is why I'm an asshole. A tired, uncaffeinated asshole.

Fancy pants.

Discussion time.

My big summer accomplishment, other than not killing myself while hiking in Hawaii, was getting into yoga. I'm loving the practice, even though I have to remind myself that it is about the discipline of practice not perfection. While I go to a super low-key, not pretentious studio, I can't help but notice that practically every chick in the freakin' room has a Lululemon logo some on the back of her pants. Or on her top. Or both. Or sometimes on other items, too.

Which brings me to this question. As these pants really so magic as to justify their roughly $100 price tag? Because, I've gotta say .... Unless they're going to clean my house, walk my dog in the snow, do my dishes and pour me a cocktail as I walk in the door at the end of the day, I'm not entirely sure why I need $108 stretchy pants. Even if they *DO* make my ass look magic. (Especially when my $20 pair of Nike pants that I bought at Nordstrom Rack appear to be doing just fine. Thank you very much.)

And so, I offer this up to you. Beyond their trendiness and the cachet that comes with wearing that Lululemon curlicque logo, what's the deal? Worth the price? Are they made by magical yogic elves? Or do we just love their super-awesome bags so much that we need to buy the pants to justify carting our lunch around with their fancy-pants logo?

Operators are standing by.

WHEEE

Thanks to my love of my DVR, and the fact that I haven't regularly watched live TV in probably three years, I'm way out of the loop when it comes to commercials. Like... waaaaaaaay out of the loop. Which explains why when a coworker showed me this video at the office this week, I about peed my pants.

For the record, I hate to be the dumbass who sends some link that everyone saw three months ago. But at the risk of being that person, OMG. WATCH. THIS.




You are welcome.

Christmas. In September.

Sometime in late August I was standing in my dining nook sewing room wearing thread-covered yoga pants and a ratty sport bra, hair askew, while I was sweating like I'd just finished a bikram class. I was plowing my way through a bottle of wine and slicing Christmas fabric (yes, Christmas fabric. Bite me.) while the mutt princess stared at me.

At that moment a single thought flashed in my head: this, right here, is why I'm single.

Relationship woes aside (and, for record, that moment was sort of perfect. Or would have been if it involved a better cutting table and some cheese. Preferably brie. Or gouda. Or really, anything. I'm not picky when it comes to my favorite food group.), I'm plowing my way through a Christmas quilt. Because, what says August September -- like sleighbells and shit?

Here's a sneak peak.



P.S. If someone hasn't already, I'm declaring turquoise as a Christmas color. Don't even try to disagree with me.

Me. With jazz hands.

There's a lot brewing in my world right now. And so I thought I could best illustrate how I feel with the help of one Laura Bell Bundy as the inestimable Elle Woods.






The most prominent change is a probably a new job at my company. I'm super psyched, even though it comes with pre-dawn work hours. (Also, since I am eternal cynic, I should offer the caveat that it's still early, but so far all systems are go.)

So that's me. What's up in your world?

A prayer for peace.

I mistakenly thought it was my turn to offer a prayer for peace during today's church service. So I spent a bit of time last night trying to put pen to paper (or in this case, fingers to keys) to come up with something to say about the topic. Given the past events of the week, I wasn't exactly lacking material.

Since it's an ungiven prayer, I thought I'd offer it up here. (Apologies if prayers aren't your thing.)

God, if ever there was a time to pray for peace, it’s now.

We’re too easily swayed by voices that seek to divide us. The news this week has been filled with daily reminders that all too often our society defaults to hatred and separation, instead of remembering Jesus’ mandate of love and radical inclusion.

We are too eager to separate ourselves. Us and them. The haves and the have nots. The right. And the unrighteous.

And so today, we ask you to help us remember the importance of peace -- in all its forms. Within ourselves, in our homes, our communities, between orientations and nations, races and religions.

The Psalmists remind us that we are fearfully and wonderfully made. So we ask you today to help us honor that gift, and make sure peace stays with us during every step we take, filling our hearts and our minds as we walk in this world.

Amen.

Please pass the peace to your neighbor.

Exercise pains

Visual representation of me. While exercising. Complete with Rocky music.




(Via gawker.)

Underpants conundrum.

Unless you're one of those twig girls (at which point, there's an above average chance that we are not friends unless you are fabulously cool), you've had this great Bridget Jones-type dilemma.

You have a date. You're getting dressed. Do you choose the underwear that makes your outfit look good, or that looks good when you're out of your outfit? (In case my mom is reading, er, this is something I have NO EXPERIENCE WITH. WHATSOEVER. Or something.)

I tried to find the clip from the movie where Bridget wrestles with granny panties or a black thong, but the Interwebs didn't want to to cooperate. But I'm going out on a limb to say you get the dilemma.

All of this is a set up for this fab totally-humiliating-because-we've-been-there blog post about forgetting about Spanx. In it Vanessa raises a fairly interesting question after getting caught with her spanx on:

This makes me wonder what guys really think about our undergarment arsenal of
push up bras, chicken cutlets, wired and boned full-body contraptions that make us
look oh-so-much better.

So, riddle me this, peeps. What DO you think? Been there? Got a story? Does it even matter?

Discuss away.

Books to live by.

I'm a word nerd. A book addict. A bibliophile. But there's one book that I will always and forever (and once more, just for feeling) give people as a gift.

It's The Alchemist by the amazing Brazilian author Paulo Coelho.

It's not my favorite book by him. (That honor goes to Veronika Decides to Die.) But I can't help but feel like it's one of those books that sticks with you and finds a way of being pulled off your shelf when you need it the most. The ideas of following a journey, personal legends and the decisions that come with marching through life _ not just as a passive participant but as an actor _ are just so, so poignant. And powerful.

Some of my favorite quotes come from this book:

"When you want something, all the world conspires in helping you to achieve it."

"He had worked for an entire year to make a dream come true, and that dream, minute by minute, was becoming less important. Maybe because that wasn't really his dream."

"We are afraid of losing what we have, whether it's our life or our possessions and property. But this fear evaporates when we understand that our life stories and the history of the world were written by the same hand."

"Tell your heart that the fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself."

I love this book so much I made my friend Sebastian, who is currently kicking it in New York City for a few weeks, buy it immediately. Or else face bodily harm.


As you can see from this picture he sent me today, he wisely obliged.

So, tell me my dear blog peeps... What about you? What's your favorite book to give people? Why?

Intolerance.

Because I can't stop hitting "publish post" tonight... (It may be the wine.)

And because I can't get certain news stories out of my head ... (It may be the job.)

And because I think this is worthy of some good debate... (It may be the Presbyterian polity wonk in me.)

I'll pose this question that I'm currently wrestling with. (And yes, I know I ended my sentence with a preposition. Shut up.)

Am I allowed to be intolerant of intolerance? Because I am, but then I feel hypocritical.

Discuss.