30 weeks {frocktober, day 21}

The Arizona mornings dip into the 60's and I'm suddenly all about the scarves, sweaters and boots. I'm a little bit anxious for our trip to North Carolina next week, where I'll actually be able to comfortably add tights to this same ensemble! Maybe even a beanie. I can practically feel the chill against my cheeks, and it absolutely cannot come soon enough.

On Wednesday we hit the 30 week mark. This milestone hit me square in the teeth because I am so not ready to be done with pregnancy yet. I know I still have 10 weeks to go, but that suddenly seems like such a short amount of time. I actually get teary-eyed thinking about it. How weird is that? Even with all of the struggles, pains, and nuisances of pregnancy, I ardently adore having my little boy with me. He's a part of me now in a way that he'll never be again. I know the next part is the good stuff... but I find myself feeling so protective of this time that he and I have shared together. I have him all to myself. It's this strange kind of selfishness that makes me want to cry about having to share him with the world soon.

I think before actually experiencing pregnancy for myself, the overall message I received was that it's a fairly negative experience. From Facebook posts, personal conversations, blogs, etc. Horror stories and the oh just you waits were the majority. To an extent, they still are. Not to say that those horror stories aren't real, because they definitely are - there are women out there who could rival Bella Swan for worst pregnancy ever. I think I have been very lucky, and obviously everything I say is coming from my own experience. I still think it's a shame that we often allow the complaints to permeate the conversation. Maybe we really do just struggle with the changes in our bodies (say goodbye to your figure forever, because you are doomed, lady!) and feel the need to share those things in solidarity, but I want to take a moment to truly appreciate what the last 30 weeks have meant to me. Maybe it's just the pregnancy brain talking, but these are the things I'm going to miss.

I'm going to miss feeling his twirling movements every day, wondering what he's up to and what expressions his face might be making. I'm going to miss the time I get to spend with him that no one else can have (including his 2am dance sessions). I'm going to miss going to bed with my arms wrapped around him, knowing he's safe and protected in there. I'll miss this phase of mystery and dreaming - what will he look like? What will he be like? Soon we'll know for certain, but this time of sweet anticipation is precious all on its own. I'll miss maternity clothes and bump pictures. Feeling the least body conscious I've ever felt, because this belly is supposed to hang out, thankyouverymuch. I'll miss the way Dusty and I spend every night holding hands over my belly, feeling our little one move and talking to him about the future. I won't lie, I'll miss being taken care of. The sweet words, the excitement, the tenderness.

I know that pregnancy can be (and is) a very scary thing for many people, but I have loved every bit of it. Even the sickness (he's healthy and growing!), even the fatigue (all day naps? yes please), even the weird and absurd body changes. And I do mean absurd. I have cried, I have been surprised, I have had to adjust. But lemme tell you, my body is a boss. We just took our first class ("The Art of Breastfeeding") on Wednesday and I think I can say that boobs are boss. Put that on a t-shirt and wear it around town. A woman's body is insane, it's all sci-fi up in here. God is a miraculous creator, isn't He? That's what pregnancy really is. He's just showing off. I'm proud to be a warrior of His handiwork. It's truly extraordinary. Especially because this process is the precursor to welcoming our son into the world. A real human. He is and always will be a part of me, a part of my husband and I. I will cherish this time forever. 30 weeks and counting. Tick, tock.

(I will recant all of these things in 10 weeks when I begin bribing doctors to get this child outta me pronto).

floral valentine

Looking forward to special occasions always inspires me to go dress shopping. There's something exciting about wearing a dress for the first time on a special date night. While I wear a dress almost every day, I very rarely get dressed up to this degree. When I saw this floral dress over at Ruche, I knew it was the perfect fit for Valentine's Day! (P.S. Today is the last day of their "perfect match" sale for 25% off sitewide!).

This weekend has been so refreshing. On Friday I had completely forgotten that I had Monday off, so it was a really pleasant surprise to leave work with 3 whole days off ahead of me! Our Valentine's Day was delightful, and we spent all of Sunday with Dustin's family. Today is my bonus day of pajamas, Posie-making, Friends-watching, and coffee-drinking. There's nothing better than a Monday spent doing nothing. (Introverts unite!).

sisterhood

I have always wondered what it would be like to have a sister. 

My mom and I went to Home Depot last night to run some errands, and I wandered around in the garden section for a while, eventually stumbling upon the two gorgeous pink roses pictured above. They were growing side by side. Rosy sisters. Something struck my heart in that moment. Perhaps it was longing, or a little bit of remembrance for my younger self, who always begged and wished for a sister. Or maybe it was a little twinge of something else entirely, a nameless emotion tied to seeing something simple and beautiful. 

I grew up with 3 marvelous brothers whom I love deeply, and friends and cousins that I attached myself to as a surrogate sister. I always envied my friends who had sisters, and would chide them when they fought because I couldn't comprehend fighting with a beloved sister. As I've grown up and my siblings and siblings-in-law have gotten married, I have even gained sisters-in-law, which is such a delightful bonus to my collection of siblings.

Funnily enough, every sister-in-law I have is just like me: we all grew up without any sisters. It strikes me as very strange and kind of lovely. What are the odds? We are a gaggle of sisterless women who love each other all the more because we are each other's first experiences with sisterhood. 

Dress (remixed 1, 2): Ruche

Star Sweater: remixed

Don't get me wrong: many of my friends have been like sisters to me over the years. I do not belittle those relationships in any way. I had several "sisters" growing up that I still love and cherish. They allowed me to share my room and giggle over secrets. And my sisters-in-law expanded that realm of relationship even further, filling up our family and making it more of a girl's club!

Even so, I realize that there is a very real question tucked away in the stitches of my being that will never be answered. I'll never know what it's like to have a real sister. Which in many ways is fine, because as they say, ignorance is bliss. I don't really understand the intricacies of what I'm missing. It's not a devastating or a heartbreaking thought, it's just something that I know to be true.
There are positive influences to growing up entirely with brothers, too. I owe so much of myself to them. My interests and many aspects of my personality. I think it's possible that I am the friend that I am because I never had any sisters.

In one of my favorite parts of the movie In Her Shoes, Maggie is trying to explain her sister Rose to her husband-to-be, Simon. The first half of the movie is very dark and sad, illustrating the strain and heartbreak that has wedged the two sisters apart. Maggie is basically telling Simon that her little sister is irresponsible, frustrating, immature, selfish - and that he'll end up begging her to throw her out of their lives.

But I won't. Because she's my sister. Without her, I don't make sense. 

That part always makes me cry, mostly because of the restorative nature of forgiveness and the steadfast love and loyalty that is inherent in sisterhood. I have been blessed to know and love many sisters in the world, catching a peek at what that relationship is really like. I know I get glimpses of it. 

I shall continue assigning myself as a surrogate sister to the many kindred spirits in my life, knowing that sisterhood is a beautiful thing, in every form. 

just call me whimsy

Dress: Zulily, Top: J. Crew, Necklace (similar): Ruche,
Booties: Urbanog, Tights: Target

Here's a very true fact about me.

I was a little bit boy crazy. Gasp, I know, it's true, it happened. 

I had many real-life crushes but, even worse, my walls were covered in magazine clippings and home-computer print-outs and life-size posters of Orlando Bloom, Tom Welling, Elijah Wood, etc...my adolescence was obviously smack dab in the middle of Lord of the Rings and Smallville mania. 

It was a good time, my friends.

I was young and foolish I suppose, but you know what else? I was still young and foolish when I got married. Maybe I still am. Is there such a thing as being young and foolish until you're old and grey? 

I feel like I can say I'm not young and foolish anymore...but I also feel like that's something a young and foolish person would say. 

I'm getting off track I think. The point of this whole conversation is that I kind of got to skip the whole dating scene. I was the typical boy crazy adolescent, but my husband and I started dating in high school in the midst of all that, and have been together ever since.

No awkward bar conversations, no flirting with strangers at the baseball game. No awkward pick-up lines. Part of it makes me feel a little excluded, because I don't have any funny awkward stories (about that, at least). 

I did have a guy drop a sugar packet once and tell me that I dropped my name tag. But it was when I was 13, maybe 14, and it was at a Christian summer camp. Haha. Look out!

Until Monday, I had pretty much avoided all of those cringe-worthy encounters. I didn't know what being hit on would even be like.
I would just wave it off naively, like, oh, he was just being friendly! 

So here it goes: I work in a library, and there's a guy that I've seen several times due to his exceeding number of interlibrary loan requests. He's a nice-looking guy, maybe a year or two older than I am.
He's had some problems with his account lately, and after I helped him out again on Monday, I was starting to walk away when he quickly says,

"You're looking whimsical today, by the way." Wink. 

I'm not gonna lie, I did love my crazy print-mixing ensemble and being called whimsical is the best kind of compliment for me, truly. Right next to you could be in an Anthro catalogue and I feel like Jess from New Girl would wear that. But then he winked and made it weird.

Why are winks so creepy? Why?
I love winking. I think it's adorable, it's sweet. But to a stranger? There is nothing in the world that's creepier than being winked at by some crazy nomad, some wandering half-blinking soul.

You know when it's not creepy? When it's a secret, a wordless exchange between two people who know and love each other:
Heath Ledger in A Knight's Tale, winking at his lady.
Geoffrey Rush in The Book Thief when he's winking at Liesel, his adopted daughter.

Winks should be reserved for those who don't need words, because their hearts are already entwined.

Don't be a creep. Don't wink at strangers. 

hazelnutty

This week has been so cold I've even had cold-related nightmares. I can't escape it.
The lake right next to the new library has been half-frozen and occasionally sprinkled in snow, like the wicked white witch from Narnia is slowly casting a spell on it.
I know, I know -- you all are tired of hearing about how cold it is. I get it.
But I would just like to say that when I got up this morning it was 3 degrees, and I had to seriously evaluate my priorities before I made myself get out of those warm covers. I consider myself extremely brave for that.

I know people have it much worse, negative temperatures and freezing snow, but I'd like to think I'm still Arizonan enough to be nearly killed by 3 degree weather.

Dress: Ruche, Sweater: LOFT, Booties: Urbanog, Hat/Coat: Zulily

Yesterday I got a hot brewed coffee from Starbucks with hazelnut and cream.
Dusty and I purchased the special January tumblers that allow us to get free coffee for this entire month -- today and tomorrow are the last days and I think I'm going to be devastated come February 1st. Life has been so very coffee-filled -- it's the only time I'm ever warm!! I know I'm an addict at this point and I'm nervous about the withdrawals.

Anyway -- I got the hazelnut flavor, and as soon as I took a sip it was, WHOOSH! Memories.

Sweet and subtle but sweeping, I was in college again, working the early shift at the campus coffee shop. I was late for class. I was meeting a friend. I was smiling. I was getting that triple shot because today I really needed it.

It all came rushing back. Senior year was the year of the hazelnut latte for me. I got one nearly every day, it seemed. Working at the coffee shop that first semester meant I could get a few lattes for free, either on my break or after work. It was the flavor of my year.
Dusty and I got married that January, so our last semester of college was spent together, with so many wonderful memories and a lot of hazelnutty days.

It's amazing how something that flavored my life so long ago can still flavor it today, taking me back to those feelings and so quickly reminding me of a time when it was so special.
It's a treasure chest of moments, really, all within my reach - sniffing a special bottle of perfume, ordering a certain latte, listening to a 90's boy band. It's the reason why I intentionally buy a new scent each time we travel to a new place. Paris Amour from Bath & Body Works is, well, Paris -- sexy little things from Victoria's Secret is Ireland.
They're all tied together into the bouquet of my lifetime.

Tastes, smells, sounds.
The strength of them can sometimes overwhelm me.
The strength of a hazelnutty day.

living in sunshine

Top (on ebay): Anthropologie, Skirt (remixed): LOFT, 
Earrings (remixed): Ruche, Booties: Urbanog, Ring (similar): Ebay

It's amazing how working in a space of sunshiney natural light can quite literally illuminate you.
Your soul, your well-being, your general happiness.
It seems like a small thing, but there's a certain power to the sun that gives me a whole new respect for like...coal miners. And Alaskans. And subway workers. And sunshine-less people, like me, up until last month.

My office used to be a windowless closet that sapped me of my energy and it was such a huge surprise to me when I moved into the new building and sat staring out my window for hours, feeling like -- I'm alive. 
I felt a renewed sense of self, like I could do anything, go anywhere. I felt productive and excited.
There's a new heartbeat to this building, and I can feel it!
There are terraces and windows galore, so much light and activity and newness.

It has been really easy for me to get used to, but I will try my best not to take it for granted. 

It makes me realize what a difference joy can make in the midst of the daily grind. Having pride in your work and feeling like you're a part of something special.

Where do you find your joy? 

It's a conscious effort, but it shouldn't be easily shaken. I hope I'm always able to find joy in my work, whatever it may be. Whether it's becoming an author like I sometimes (always) dream about, or working at a cafe. 

All I know right now is that I hope there's sunshine there.

call of the styled

Modcloth: Travel the World by caitschan featuring ankle boots

(1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7)

I quickly fell in love with Modcloth when I discovered my passion for online boutiques, after moving to Virginia and discovering that local shopping was very, very bleak.
Along with Ruche, they're one of my favorite places to go for unique and stylish clothing and accessories.

This past week, Modcloth reached out and asked if I wanted to participate in their Uniquely You campaign on Polyvore!
I of course accepted, because I love them, and was thrilled by the prospect of creating an outfit designed around a specific Modcloth item. I was also really interested in becoming a part of the Polyvore community.
They sent me an image of the call of the styled coat, and my only objective was to build an outfit using up to 7 other Modcloth items and post it on Polyvore and here on the blog!
Each week they'll pick a winner to feature on the Modcloth Polyvore page.

After playing around with different outfit ideas, I settled into a travel-inspired ensemble, with some of my favorite layering techniques. It's absolutely an outfit I would wear! I love those maroon booties, and the little cicada earrings.

When Dustin and I went to Paris and London this past March, we quickly realized that the only article of clothing that really mattered was a great coat.
We settled into a daily routine of our favorite coat with various layered clothing underneath. Occasionally we'd shed that outer layer when we were indoors, but we spent so much time sight-seeing, we needed to be warm against the wind, snow and rain. A great coat can be the inspiration for a myriad of ensembles, and is a great investment piece.

Find a coat you love and travel the world in it -- follow the call of the styled.