Great Quote

“You are not discovering yourself, but creating yourself anew. Seek, therefore, not to find out who you are, seek to determine who you want to be.”

I saw this today and as trite as it might sound is was a bit of an epiphany for me. I keep trying to figure out who I am, what I should be doing - but the most success I have had lately is just simply working toward who I want to be.

A very small, but very important differentiation.

And one that is working for me, so far.

Happy First Week Birthday!

My sweetest sweetie sweet boy is now a big brother. And two of my very best friends in the world are parents for the second time.

There are no words. I can only tell you that when we turned and left the hospital room after saying goodbye, we had to stop so I could just sob over the fact that I'm not there, I'm not around - I'm not close by.

This little family makes my heart full, I love them so much. And when the (now!) 6 of us hang out I feel like there isn't a wrong in the world. I love how Sarah laughs at everything Sam says, how Phil always knows the perfect line to say to crack me up - how we're all friends. Wonderful, amazing, awesome friends.

And I want to see them today and wish Euston Happy First Week Birthday. I want to play transformers with Hagan and sit and talk and just hang out with Sarah. . . when my whole world is topsy turvy these people ca bring me straight back down to the ground, and make me feel at home. That's what it is - the six of us - in so many ways.

Home.

I love them all so much - words just fail me. Fail.




I want New York and Kansas to be closer. I need them to be.

Welcome Euston Blue!

Sam, Misty and Optimus Prime would like to welcome EUSTON BLUE SCHAMBERGER to the world. I have no doubt he will help us along with Hagan STOP SOME DECEPTICONS!


PS. Misty's too excited to post.

Procrastinating . . . but look! I'm in NYC!

Ya'll, I had work to do - but this was so much more fun . . .



Thanks, Karen!

I'd Rather be Sailing

I used to be obsessed slightly with this song. Poor Matt and Karen probably heard it much more often than they'd like when living with me . . . Yes, insert here now sympathy for them and the great amount of patience they must have had to conjour whilst that was taking place (the living with me, not the song).

But I have to say - there's something about the sea that brings me home in a way little else does. It's so healing to me, the wind and the sun.

It's no secret I've been having a hard time of it lately. All over things I really can't talk about it here for myriads of reasons. Things I can't control, but need to let go of. Things that keep me up at night. And, ha, just typing this out brings tears to my eyes - I spend all day at work pretending nothing's wrng and then find myself all the more vulnerable when I arrive home, tired from performaing all day. Tired of pretending.

And so I sit here, tonight, alone while Sam works late. Singing along that I'd rather be sailing, and meaning every second of it.

I miss my friends. The old ones. The ones that know me, that need no explanation - nor expect one. I miss being able to speak to someone about nothing and yet hear a history in every word. I miss not saying anything and yet havng books lye between us. I know old friends take work too. That often we leave each other behind, that we grow and change and that navigating that is as hard as anything.

But there is a comfort in old friends that I need right now. I wish I were closer. I wish they were.

I wish we could go sailing.

I'd rather be sailing, yes, I would
On an open sea
I'd stand at the railing if I could
Feeling wild and free

The sun is on my neck, the wind is in my face
The water's incredibly blue
And I'd rather be sailing
Yes, I'd wanna go sail
. . .
People are swell but I'd rather be sailing
Over the horizon

And I'd rather be sailing, yes, I would
On an open sea
I'd stand there inhaling if I could
Feeling wild and free

The sun is on my neck, the wind is in my face
The sea is incredibly blue
And I'd rather be sailing . . .

Of course, I have it pretty good. I know that. This smile is what keeps me losing it altogether most days - and that alone is a blessing. Not to mention, every time I look into Sam's eyes, I see the sea. Right there in my best friend. Which, really, makes everything manageable.

And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder

You got a fast car
But is it fast enough so we can fly away
We gotta make a decision
Leave tonight or live and die this way

In the name of Corporate Team Building

I thanked New York's finest personally.

Lobster!

Weights and Running

Sometimes sadness rests in my very middle, like a stone. A deadweight. And I can still walk and run and laugh and smile, but it all seems somewhat harder, somewhat tainted, somewhat *off* - because as I walk and run and laugh and smile, I'm carrying around this weight no one can see.

And I don't know how to explain it, or describe it. I don't know how to set it down. Sometimes I spend an inordinate amount of thought into how to just make it smaller. I resign myself it won't go away and the thought of that begins to overwhelm and I go back to smaller, smaller; how to make it lighter.

I make list after list of how lucky I am. How much I have so many would long for. How blessed my life is.

I look through picture after picture proving all of this. Of the many people in my life who care. Of the wonderful things I have been able to do.

Of the opportunities before me on who I want to become.

And yet.

This stone is so very heavy.

It makes me feel weak. I should carry it - it shouldn't slow me down. I should be able to deal somehow. (But how?) I'm even often able to push through an entire day, convincing myself it isn't there – ‘til I lay down at night and feel as if my heart's being crushed.

I'm not sure what I'm going to do. I know what I'm going to try, and I know in the end this will somehow go away - or I'll just get strong enough it doesn't matter.

'Cause I am so very very lucky. And this will. not. slow me down.

Our tickets are bought! Kansas on labor day,here we come!

Our tickets are bought! Kansas on labor day,here we come!

Cowboy, Take Me Away

The last time I slept in a tent was 1987. It was on a school trip and I have no real memories of liking it or disliking it - mostly because I'm sure the fact I was not AT HOME, but states away with all my best friends and the guy I'm sure I had some sort of mad crush on, made everything super cool back then.

SO when we first planned this trip to Maine I was, while excited, a bit trepidatious. Ya'll. I married a man who LOVES to camp. Who loves the outdoors and hiking and dirt and fishing and tents and who doesn't even mind having to pee in the woods.

I still wasn't totally sold on any of it, quite frankly.

But, one lesson I have learned over the past few years with Sam is that no matter how uninterested I am in something - if he loves it, that something takes on a whole new meaning. I suddenly find myself listening more intently, pay attention a bit more carefully - and dare I say actually enjoying from time to time . . . and while I was skeptical about this whole crazy sleeping in a tent thing, I was willing to try it for just this reason.

And let me tell you - I LOVED it.

I don’t know if it was the killer view of Sennebac Lake. Or perhaps that our tent rested beneath a copse of cathedral pines . . .


Maybe it was the bald eagle that flew over us as we canoed the lake at dusk, or the tiny bats that swirled over our heads as we sat before the fire . . .


Or maybe it was just that this city girl was ready for some peace and quiet. Some simple, easy living. I don’t know.


What I do know is that there's no place I'm happier than out in wild open space with my husband, just the two of us.


I'm already shopping for camping equipment and begging for us to plan our next weekend out in the wild. Not to mention ready to trade in our current silver skyline for some green . . . I can't wait for ur next trip. This trip was even a bit fancy, some nice restaurants thrown in - and of course, there was Lobster Fest as our grand finale . . . But next time I'm ready to hunker down for a weekend away, truly. For hot dogs over the fire. For hiking and roasting marshmellows and peanut butter sandwiches.

For real camping. For a tent in the trees in the middle of no where. Just us.

I wanna be the only one
For miles and miles
Except for maybe you
And your simple smile

Guess where we were this weekend!

stories and pics to come tomorrow - for now, to sleep . . . .

Our Town

"It goes so fast. We don't have time to look at one another. I didn't realize. So all that was going on and we never noticed. Take me back -- up the hill -- to my grave. But first: Wait! One more look. Good-bye , Good-bye world. Good-bye, Grover's Corners....Mama and Papa. Good-bye to clocks ticking....and Mama's sunflowers. And food and coffee. And new ironed dresses and hot baths....and sleeping and waking up. Oh, earth,you are too wonderful for anybody to realize you. Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it -- every, every minute?"

HP

Hello, my name is Misty Bell and I think the HP books are poorly written and only get worse as you read book after book.

I realize this may damn me for the rest of the world, but I had to say it out loud as I trudge through this last book alternating between "oh! my! so good!" to "DEAR LORD HAVE THEY LEARNED NOTHING?!"

Seriously, J.K. You coudln't have developed these characters AT ALL in seven years? Made Harry a bit less assey?

Off to continue with the eternal hope something will change . . .

BIGGIE*S HERE!

BIGGIE*S HERE!

I am his new Number One fan.

This is Hagan. He's awsome and the sweety-est sweet-ey boy you'll ever meet.



And now, ladies and gentlemen, I begin planning my next trip to Kansas . . . he's way too much fun to stay away from for long. But of course, it makes perfect sense, I feel the same way about his mom and dad. *Love you guys!*

Us on a Monday Night

Seriously, how handsome is my husband?


This is what it looks like to be super lucky-in-love.


You don't get classier than us. Pretty soon Mikki and Baz are totally not going to go out to eat with us nice places . . .

Our Weekend

New Camera!

My parents got us a birthdays/anniversary/christmas/all holidays in the coming year gift this week: a brand new shiny digital Nikon D80.

Sweet Jesus, is it fab.

They wanted to give it to us for our Southeast Asia trip, and knowing we would need lots of practice and had a lot to learn they gave it to us now. And it. is. awesome. Last summer they gave us our point and shoot which is UNBELIEVABLY great - I had a hard time imagining this camera could be even better, just that we could do more with it, but it *does* take the most beautiful shots . . . I'm ready to quit my day job and become a photographer already!

(Um, yes, it's only day two. Perhaps I'll wait a bit before making THAT career move.)

We've barely figured out any of the fancy stuff, but I've managed to take a couple shots. You know, of the things I love most. . . .






Expect lots of photos of our lives and favorite people, places and things for the next few entries . . . .

Jars

I want to get five glass jars, the old fashioned canning kind. The kind with "Ball" written on the side in cursive.

I'll clean them 'til they shine and set them on a shelf over our oven. In the center of our home. Where everyone passes and everyone stops. Where conversations happen; small ones about chopping onions, and big ones about having babies. Where there are arguments about who should make the salsa (me, because you never get it quite right) or who should wash the dishes (me, again, only this time because I never do them. Never.) The heart of our home. Where things are made, and cleaned, and put away. Where the messes are flung about, but somehow never really last.

When you walk through the door they'd be some of the of the first things you'd see, these jars. All lined up and shining. Filled with marbles and pennies. Shells from beaches and pebbles from trips. The odds and ends that build a life - that build up over the years. The small memories and moments that become us. That define us. That write out our story.

They'd be our hopes and dreams, our plans we've made. They'd be all the walks we took on Sunday afternoons, all the luck we found on Wednesday evenings trapped between footfalls. All the silly games we played in the dark of the night when one of us couldn’t sleep.

All but one.

One I'd keep empty. Filled with magic. Filled with the shadows of lightening bugs. The breath of birthday candles. The laughter of pure joy and surprise.

That one, that one would always be overflowing. Shining and clean. Ever room for more.