Letter to myself, 5 years ago.

I happened to glance over at my picture on my profile here on blogger today.  Me, 5 years younger.  Sparkling blue eyes.  Skinny!  In my early 20s and idealistic.  Excited to be a part of something bigger than myself.

I found myself staring into those eyes, my eyes 5 years ago, wanting to somehow speak to her.

Dear me/you,


"You have no idea what's ahead.  There is pain.  There is so much loss.  There is head spinning transition.  And so. much. pain.  


And there are opportunities you never dreamed of.  Adventures on multiple continents.  Some of the dearest friendships.  Second chances.  Redemption stories.  


You will get back on stage.  You will.  And you'll be scared to death.  And you'll love it.


And someone will tell you that you should never weigh yourself again.  You are a stress eater.  And you hate exercise.  This is bad advice.  You will be curvier and softer in 5 years.   Accept that as soon as possible.


And you'll cut off all your hair.  Woah.  Yup, even though you hated it when anyone else did it.  And you will love it.  Trust me.


You will love your job, hate your job, change your job, like your job, hate hate hate your job, and love it all over again.  


You will be loved.  Don't forget that.  Even when you don't feel it.  It will always be there.  Just don't forget to love others and keep seeking God.  There will be many valleys and it's a climb up to the mountain, but the view is always worth it. 


There's more, but I can't remember it.  Yup, your memory isn't going to get any better in 5 years.  Sorry!


Dance, sing, create, and cherish people, because you never know how long they will be with you.


Oh - one last thing, you'll go by Abigail so much that in 5 years, it will feel strange when people call you "Abby."  And it actually won't feel as pretentious as you fear."


love always,
The 28-year old version of you/me

Ready to share

Okay, I have 4 posts and a FAQs page up so I'm ready to share the upcoming adventure in my new blog.

Tales of an Unwed (foster) Mother

I may be out of my mind, but that's just fine.

First post

I've posted my first post in my new (future?) blog.  Someday, soon, I'll post a link.  Message me if you want to see it sooner - but know that it is in it's veeeeerrrrrryyy  early stages.  I believe it will be my main blog as of next year, pending the start of my next adventure.  It is something dear to my heart and that is all I'm saying for now.

In the meantime, look how beautiful my niece is!

Run?

I completely forgot what I was planning on writing about in my last entry about follow through (aside from my haircut)!  You see, last month when I was in Indiana, I was hopeful.  I was motivated.  I even downloaded an app on my phone.

I was going to run.

It seemed so possible back then.

Of course, optimism seems to rise when the temperature is a high of 85 degrees with a lovely breeze.

Then I came back to Southwest Florida and the humidity hit me, a hot, balmy, reality check.  I don't even want to walk in this weather.  I feel like my whole body slows down.  Mowing last week literally almost did me in.  And I don't mean 'literally' in the overused for exaggeration purposes.  I mean 'literally' in the "I had to stop multiple times from dizziness, couldn't drink enough water, blacked out in the shower afterwards" sense.

So, running was out.  At least until January.  So I thought, "I'll buy a bike!"  So I found myself a simple used bike with every intention of starting a new routine.  Insomnia woke me up early so I decided I would go for a ride.  I glanced at the weather - 78 degrees!  Wonderful!  Oh wait, what is that?  Feels like?  It was "feels like" 92 degrees!  At 7:30 in the morning!  Sigh.  I'm probably still going to do it, but uuugghh.  

No girl should ever have to choose between being overweight and heatstroke!

follow through

As I've gotten older, I've noticed that I talk out my ideas.  When I say, "I think I will audition for a play" or "I think I'm going to make a skirt out of a men's dress shirt" or "I think I'll cut off all of my hair," what I mean is that I've thought of an idea and I'm throwing it out there so I can process.

I'm afraid people may think I'm a bit of a flake when I don't end up doing even half of the things I say I will .  I love a good idea.  And I get interested in far more things than I could ever hope to accomplish.

But every once in a while I actually do one of the things I say I will.

Before:

And After!:

Now the question remains - will I make that skirt or audition for that play or recover my dining room chairs or mow the lawn or put in plants in the front yard or use mason jars for everything or make every recipe I see or start a bakery or become a public speaker or ....  

Fern and Leon

You know a story is going to be sweet when the main characters are named Fern and Leon.

And this is the real kind, not made up.  Although I may someday write a children's book with main characters by those names.  Because I'm smitten.

On Saturday I was struggling with our little lawn mower to try to mow a few weeks' worth of grass and weeds.  I'm not exactly known for my physical prowess, so I was struggling a bit.  Every few minutes I had to stop and dump grass clippings.  

Then slowly a white car pulled alongside my yard and stopped.  The window came down and a white haired man hollered at me, "You look like you have your work cut out for you!" 

I wasn't really in the mood for commentary, but I looked up and put on my brave face and told him I was doing the best I could.  He and his wife told me that they lived two doors down and began to make small talk with me about being from the midwest and whether I was of British descent.  They told me their names, Leon and Fern, and I told them mine.  

Then very conclusively Leon told me that he had a great riding mower and that they were going to the store but afterwards ("If it's not raining," said Fern) I'll come here and mow your yard for you.  I tried in vain to talk him out of it, but it was settled.  He told me that I would still have to do trim, but that he would be back. ("And if it rains, he'll come tomorrow," said Fern).  

He was.  A white haired angel on a riding mower.  I had mowed for an hour and half already.  I think it easily would have taken me another 5-6 hours to finish.  What a blessing he was.  

As Fern put it, "We're neighbors now, we might as well get to know each other."  I'm just excited that I have neighbors like Leon and Fern.  

pithy little complaints

I made beignets Monday night.  Pillowy, doughnutty, wonderfulnesses.  Yes, I am aware that every word in my last sentence is made up.

 These aren't mine.  I forgot to take a picture of mine.  These are Paula Deen's.  But they don't have butter in them.  Go figure.  So - one of these days I'll remember that I have a fancy phone now with a camera and I will take pictures of such things.  Someday.

The oil popped when I was making them, however, and my face and hand are now graced with some tiny burns.

And honestly?  I'm just a little put out that my two little face burns look like zits and my hand burn looks like a big ole wart!  It is really nothing to complain about, but as a card-carrying girl, I just don't like it.