Thrift Share Monday :)

Vintage New Kids On The Block sleeping bag :)

I've been thrifting like a fiend lately, thrifting good art, bad art, pants, dresses, vintage shoes, and everything in between. I have a big pile of packages in my front room, ready to be sent out today. I haven't been blogging because I've had nothing to say. I've been housesitting and reading good books, swimming and combing warehouses for new and interesting things for my shop. But I need to be back out on the blogging scene again. I need to write, and find reasons to write. I need to work on my novel that I began over the summer (maybe none of this will happen, but I will at least post pictures of my finds).

I would like to post daily over the next month or so, to increase visibility to the reality of Syria and the needs of Syrian refugees. Please take a moment to read up on the most recent news, and donate to Mennonite Central Committee. MCC works to supply the basic needs of Syrian refugees through food, shelter, and the education of children. They are currently working towards raising $1.5M.

What do I do with my car?

Two days ago, I was in a hit-and-run on a local freeway. A large truck was swerving in the far left lane, ran into me on my driver's side, then sped away. There was a fair bit of traffic, and I couldn't move or swerve. It all happened so fast, and for the next several hours, I wasn't quite sure if I had done something wrong, but no, it was an accident, and it sucks, and that's just how it is.

So now my car is in worse shape than ever, and I don't want to deal with it anymore! I just want it to end, this whole car craziness. I don't want to drive a car that people feel compelled to run into (as per this comment last night from a friend: "Yeah, I'd run into that"). This darn rabbit keeps digging me into a deeper financial hole, and all I want is out, out, out!

Yesterday, on a lovely trip to see my parents, and do their laundry (disabled parent = need to be productive in the face of chaos), a friend offered me a non-running 1990 Toyota Corolla which needs the following: serpentine belt, temperature gauge, radiator. It's been sitting in their back lot for at least a year, and was running fine until the aforementioned items exploded from the dashboard (no joke). The car has air conditioning, four doors, and upholstery, all of which I covet. And it may be free (before repairs, obviously). So I'm spending a few days deciding what it will cost to fix, whether or not it's wise to do so, and praying to God that somehow, in some small way, I can be relieved of this mess.

Peace out :)

Lots of backbends

Yoga tonight was so intense for me. Backbends, backbends, backbends. A couple hours later, and I'm still kinda shaky. But I look forward to going every week. It's good, and calming, and all of the crap in my body is gone at the end of the class-it's all left on the mat.

I was sweating like crazy (it was hot and the room was packed). I was slipping all over the place, and my clothes weren't spongy enough to soak it up. I had to go to town on my mat when I got home-clean it up, get all the yuck off of it. Then I ate a lot to fill up my empty muscles.

Now I'm watching The Bachelor. My body feels great; sore, but great. I am full of rosemary focaccia, and chocolate, and soy milk. I am content and tired.

Shame in me

Shame is an awful thing. I can feel it in my chest. It's like a fist grabs my heart, and then wrenches it to the right. Ouch.

I am feeling shame at this very moment, and I am trying to talk myself through it. I feel the shame of a little kid who is tattling, something I don't directly remember doing, but imagine I did quite often. Doing the right thing is very important to me. And when I see it out there, possible, I want to grab it and make it mine. I want to own the essence of being right. I want to own it and let it define me. I want to be right. I want to be right. I want to be right. Ad infinitum...

Being right makes us feel safe. It makes us feel in control. When that is questioned, when we make small mistakes, we are struck with the uninvited wrenching fist in the chest.

I have to talk to myself often, remind myself that I am fallible, remind myself that I cannot know the right and perfect way to do everything. All I have is myself, and whatever faculties are available in that particular moment.

In all reality, I am human and flawed, and I never do the right thing. But so are you, so at least we're all in this thing together.