soulhome

A friend of mine once mused, If there are soulmates, maybe there are soulhomes, too. 

A soulhome. What a romantic thought. A place where your heart is destined to rest, a special and mysterious location where your soul has intricate ties. 

I personally don't really believe in soulmates. The One. 

I think relationships take work, you choose to love. I do think that my husband and I are great together, and that I prayed for him from the time that I was a little girl. I knew I would marry someone someday, and I wanted to make sure God knew all of my requirements, things like "loves Big Red gum". 

I don't think anyone could ever love and appreciate me the way my husband does. In all my weirdness. I cherish him. Sometimes I like to say we're soulmates, because he's my one, the man I've chosen. We work hard at our relationship, and our commitment to each other has been blessed. 

But as far as real soulmates go? I believe we as humans are irrevocably flawed, and therefore if there even could be such a thing as soulmates, we would have ruined that whole deal a long long time ago. We would have married the wrong people and messed up the soulmate order for everyone. 

I remember thinking about that when I was around 10 or 11. I had a moment of pure panic, thinking of someone accidentally marrying my soulmate before I got to him.

Perhaps the first and only soulmates in the history of the world were Adam and Eve, and we all know how that turned out. 

But let's imagine for a second that soulmates and, more importantly, soulhomes are real.

Each one of us has, imprinted on our heart, a place that belongs to us. 

Born into the world with locks around our soul, a golden key is tossed out into the universe. And the moment we step into that place, the great expanse of desert in Arizona, the rolling green hills of Ireland, the towering sky-rises of New York, we hear that click. 

And we are unlocked. 

It's an absolutely stunning thought.

A lifelong quest to find each other, you and that distant land of destiny. 

I think I've experienced similar feelings of serendipity, which could easily be heaped into that nebulous overwhelming wanderlust. 

I think for most people though, myself included, a soulhome would be the place we've spent most if not all of our lives. There's a definite bond between a person and where they were born. 

Arizona is my place. The desert is where I have always belonged, it's where I feel most enchanted and most at ease. I understand it and appreciate it for all that it is. I feel really lucky in that way.  

But I've also lived other places and traveled to countries that I have fallen in love with. There are those dreamy trips that make us all swoon (Hollywood-driven, most likely), just imagining what the Eiffel Tower must be like in person, or thinking of riding in a Gondola in Venice. Growing up as an O'Neil and loving all things Irish, I would definitely say that Ireland was my dream place to live for a very long time. Irish blessings hung on my walls, green was my favorite color, Gerard Butler in P.S. I Love You is my favorite ever. 

Over the last few years of traveling, I've had my moments of, I could do this. I could live here for keeps. 

One of my favorite terms for my friends is kindred spirits. Unlike the idea of soulmates, I heartily believe and support the idea of kindred spirits. They exist all over the world, and come sneaking into your heart even when you least expect to find them. 

Arizona is my soulhome, but maybe I can allow my heart to find kindred places, too.

And what a long, lovely list of kindreds that will be. 

first things first

As with any true and grand celebration, the first thing we did when Dustin finished the bar exam on Wednesday was say, "LET'S GO EAT!"

I love food. Everyone does, because basically, I'm not gonna sugarcoat it (mmmm, but sugarcoating...), you'd die without it. Sometimes I think it's only natural that obesity takes over so many people's lives, because you can't actually give up food. An addict has no escape. 

Your life will not be better without food. It's not like you can go to a rehab dedicated to removing you from situations where food may come near you. Training you to be a better person without food. Food WILL come near you. Food will always get you in the end. 

All that being said, the true story behind these photos is that we were mega sucking-it-in because we were halfway through a stuff-your-face marathon of Italian foodery. 

Maggiano's (if you've heard of it, you know) is the perfect celebration spot, because they have something called Family Style which is an all-you-can-eat option made of a handful of appetizers and pastas and lemon cookies from the goddess of baking. 

You get to try a little bit everything, and then try it all again and again and again.

I've been wearing some fabulous hand-me-downs every day this week. My best friend, God bless her, is a shopaholic of the most charming kind.
Charming because I get all of her clothes when she cleans out her closet, which is often, because who could ever fit all of that fabric in one closet? Nobody. Which is why she also has clothes at her parent's house, but still, exploding with clothing. It's an arrangement that I'm more than happy to keep, and she feels great knowing that her clothes live on in another completely unique and special life (which also gives her the gumption to keep shopping, because charity and giving are good qualities).

It has been a wonderful week, and we are spending this well-earned weekend in California with Dusty's brother and sister-in-law! We get to see family and friends and maybe even our alma mater, CBU.
We will eat and beach and be merry.

Cheers to a fabulous August!

why moving is the worst (but has made me a better human)

Dress: Ruche, Bangles: Kate Spade, Nails: Jamberry

I was born and raised in a small desert town in Arizona.
The kind of town with occasional tumbleweeds and excessive winter visitors. A big sky and a small population. Bright stars and dull shopping.

Despite of or maybe because of its flaws, I loved growing up there. I was a desert girl through and through. I had seen snakes and been stung by a scorpion, the desert was in my blood.
I lived in the same house for 18 years with my parents and my 3 brothers. I had my own room. I was a packrat, and I was proud. Sentimental to a fault, as they say.

After I graduated high school I broke the mold and went all the way to California for college.
Obviously you geography lovers (I do not count myself among that breed) will know that California is right next door to Arizona, but for me it was a lifetime away from home. I still considered Arizona my true home, of course, and returned there every summer, every holiday, and every 3-day weekend. I felt like I "moved" often, dorm to home to apartment to home.

But it wasn't until I turned 22, got married, and moved across the country to Virginia that I truly understood the concept of moving. It was awful. Absolutely terrible! I won't lie to you. Moving is the worst. It also can be the best thing in the world, but I didn't realize that until maybe yesterday.

When people say "nobody likes change" they're not lying. And there's a really good reason for that. People don't like change because they're terrible at it. It literally hurts sometimes. I think we were created to find comfort in things, whether it be people or places or things. We were created to love and have fellowship and be. Big changes throw us for a loop because we're really good at being invested in our lives. It's a flaw of being a selfish being, probably, this inability to easily accept the big shake-ups of life.
I'm probably speaking only to myself right now, but bear with me because I think I just need to talk this out.

I hate moving because it's hard. I hate it because it's exhausting, it's sad, it's frustrating. It costs money and time. It's lonely and overwhelming. It rips you away from things you love and leaves you vulnerable to disappointment and regret.

I love moving because it's hard. I love it because it demands hard work, loyalty, and togetherness. It opens new possibilities and inspires innovation. It rids you of clutter and excess (it lightens a packratty heart) and rouses reflection. It brings you closer to a future unknown, opening up your world to new ideas, new people, and new loves. It shakes you up and makes you look again, look closer, remember better, try harder.

Here is what I learned from that one time we lived in Virginia for 3 years.

I learned that there are kindred spirits everywhere. There are probably millions of people that I could and would be best friends with if I ever had the blessed opportunity to meet them. It makes me want to revive the age of pen pals. It's an absolute thrill to think about all of the strange destinies that led us to Lynchburg, to some of the best friends we will ever have in our lives.

I learned that you get what you give. Do you know how many unhappy couples and families we met while we were in law school? Far too many. It was our choice to love our city, and commit even further to each other by investing time and energy into our home, our marriage, and our friends (and our cats). We made so many incredible memories. Ignore the tears falling down my cheeks right now that you can't even see - I miss law school, that's how much fun it was. I wish it could have been longer. 

I learned that I actually could live somewhere else. My bubble is a little bit bigger now. I thought I would die being away from Arizona, but shockingly enough, I lived. We made a home somewhere new. One that will live in my heart forever. 

I learned how to be a better friend, daughter, wife. I was allowed to experience true love and loyalty from our long-distance loved ones. 

I learned that Fall is breathtaking, snow days are exhilarating, learning is never-ending, good friends are edifying, and first homes are lasting. 

And moving is the worst.