On [karaoke] Date Night, Hiking, and Hamlet.

So...it's another Saturday High Five for Friday post. Get used to it.

I had such an awesome week. I accomplished a lot, ate some delicious food, and made some wonderful memories with my husband.

1. This week I finished two major craft projects: my curtains and my seeking sole mates sign for the laundry area.

2. I found an app on the iphone called, "What the Font?" and am absolutely in love. You take a picture of a word (anywhere! a restaurant menu, a bar of soap, a billboard), and it tells you what font they used! Brilliant. The app is free too! Fabulous!

3. We had date night on Thursday night, which included a delicious dinner at a place that wished they were based in Portland. We had marionberry rosemary crumble for dessert--straight out of the oven. Yum!

After dinner and dessert, we went to karaoke night. Adam and I squished into a booth with two retired couples we had never met. It was seriously so much fun! We sang a duet together, which the sea of white-haired folks ate up. Oh, the romance of it all! It was a great night.

4. On Friday, we went on a beautiful hike along some waterfalls. The weather was wonderful. We met some guys hiking who were absolutely thrilled that we just got married (the decorations are still on our car). People are awesome. So were the views! Feast your eyes!

This was my favorite spot along the hike.
I like to imagine tons a colony of little fairies living among the roots of those big trees.

For dinner, Adam made a crock-pot version of Indian butter chicken, and we made mango sticky rice for dessert. Oh, mama, it was good! We were quite literally licking the sauce from the sticky rice off of our plates.

5. Today we attended a homeschool production of Hamlet put on by the kids of some of our friends. It was the most comedic tragedy I've ever seen, and also wonderful.

The perks of living in a small town, seriously!

How was your week? Have you found any fun things to do nearby that you didn't know were there? Have you tried any new recipes lately?

On [stuffed] Snakes and Snuggles: Stories of my Stuff Follow-Up

I'm working on eliminating "stuff" from my life, like oversized stuffed snakes (even though I love them dearly).
But first I'm telling their stories.
I introduced "Project Simplify: Stories of My Stuff" a few weeks ago.

I told you a couple weeks ago that I was giving my (massive) stuffed snake Fernando to my friend's little boy. I was able to hang out with them recently to give him Fernando in person. I figured Fernando could bring joy to a kid's life. 

Jonah spent a long time putting Fernando in a "cage" (the laundry basket), and wrestling with him. I'm pretty sure he thought Fernando was the snake from Aladdin--he kept saying something about Jafar. 

As I was leaving their house, Jonah asked me, "Do we really get to keep Fernando?" 

"If you promise to love him," I replied.

Jonah then continued wrestling with Fernando on the ground, which is basically the definition of love from a little boy.

Later that night, Jonah's mom texted me the picture above of Jonah and Fernando snuggling. I think Fernando will be happy at his new home.

On Love at First Sight and [yellow] Rocking Chairs.

I'm working on eliminating "stuff" from my life, like yellow chairs from thrift stores.
But first I'm telling their stories.
I introduced "Project Simplify: Stories of My Stuff" a couple weeks ago.

Just like many things in my life (such as my prom dress, but not my future husband), I saw the yellow chair across a crowded room and fell in love from afar.

My roommate and I were visiting the DAV (Disabled American Veteran's thrift store) in Springfield, Mo. The yellow chair was sitting amongst a green plaid couch that sat far too low, and a leather love seat that had the shape of a mama's arms worn into the arm rests.

I brought the chair home (after wrangling it into the backseat of my roommate's car), and immediately used whole bottles of lysol, febreeze, and upholstry cleaner to sanitize, clean, and otherwise remove any traces of the chair's former home.

I wish I had stories of life and love and babies (well, not yet) to tell starring this chair; that seems the proper thing to do for a rocking chair.

But, I don't.

The yellow chair occupied an otherwise empty corner of my bedroom over by the window. To be frank, I rarely even sat in my pretty yellow chair. It was usually used held either my laundry pile or my textbook pile.

Regardless of how little it was sat in, I loved that chair. I loved that it was yellow. I loved how it squeaked if you tried to lean back too far. And I loved it a little more each time someone asked me why I had such an ugly chair in my room.

On [stuffed] Snakes and Snuggles.

Snuggling with Fernando my freshman year of college (Fall 2006).
Also, do I only have one sock on?

I'm working on eliminating "stuff" from my life, like oversized stuffed snakes (even though I love them dearly).
But first I'm telling their stories.
I introduced "Project Simplify: Stories of My Stuff" a couple weeks ago.
 

It started with a family tradition of a $20 gift exchange. Everyone brings a gift worth 20 bucks. You take turns opening, stealing and trading until everyone has a gift.

That's how we found ourselves together—Fernando and I.

But one day I went off to college and left Fernando, the giant snake from Costco, behind. I was in a new place with only very new friends and no one to fill my physical touch love tank.

My mom, who is amazing, stuffed Fernando in a box and sent him on his way across the country. He arrived at the Evangel post office: boxed, taped and postaged. When I opened the box I squealed with delight as the spring-loaded Fernando (due to the tight fit in the box) jumped out at me. Fernando and I were reunited. He acted as my always-at-the-ready snuggle bud.

When new girls would move onto the floor, I made sure they met Fernando. When I moved to other apartments, Fernando always made the move with me. When friends with kids came to visit, Fernando faithfully entertain them.

I now face the excitement of moving 2,000 miles West. Sadly, Fernando won't be able to make the journey with me. I have limited space, and I'm sure Adam would rather not have an over 8-foot long purple snake hanging out in our shared living quarters. Fernando is super excited to be adopted by some friends of mine, especially their four-year-old son, who will love and cherish him just as much as I did (however, I'm not sure anyone could give him as many snuggles as I did).

On Purses, Peanut Butter M&Ms, and [Dr.] Pepper.

I'm working on eliminating "stuff" from my life, like old purses I no longer use.
But first I'm telling their stories.
I introduced "Project Simplify: Stories of My Stuff" earlier this week.

The purse and I met on May 7, 2010. We were in the atrium of James River Assembly, immediately following my high-heeled jaunt across the stage. I'd shook hands with the president of the university, held my empty diploma case, and smiled for the hired photographers next to an American flag.

Commencement.

Beginnings.

The purse was a gift from my Grandma (who couldn't make it to my graduation), but was picked out by my little sister. It was filled with a huge bouquet of flowers and two huge bags of peanut butter M&Ms.

Favorites.

Love in the form of chocolate and flowers and the perfect purse: pink, yellow flowers, the ideal size, straps of the most desirable length.

This purse and I were inseparable, my companion, my other half, until that fateful day last November. My friends and I were headed out to see Twilight: Breaking Dawn, Part 1. In usual fashion, I put snacks in my purse, including a can of Dr. Pepper.

Bad Idea.

[Note to readers: only put plastic containers of drinks in your purse. Or purchase your drinks at the theatre. Don't be cheap. It could ruin everything.]

Upon arrival at the theatre, I realized my mistake. My entire purse and all of its contents were soaked with sticky Dr. Pepper that had exploded during the journey to Campbell 16. I salvaged what I could, and threw away the rest...gum wrappers, bobby pins, weird worthless items that always seem to find their way to the bottom recesses of my handbag. 

After this incident, I knew it was time to retire the pink purse from graduation.

You'd think I would have learned my lesson, but I definitely tried smuggling a hot Starbucks coffee in with me to drink while watching Brave in August.

On [the introduction of] "Project Simplify: Stories of my Stuff."

Who wouldn't want this beautiful kitschy piece?

I’m a self-diagnosed hoarder/pack rat (just like my father), one of my top 5 strengths is input (I like to collect things and facts), and I have a wonderful memory so I always know who gave me anything and when. This has resulted in my possession of tons of STUFF.

Now that this has happened…

Photo by Adam Mason. If you're in the Philadelphia area, hire him.

...I have to downsize (after accumulating stuff for 6 and a half years) to about four suitcases. The problem is I came to Springfield with 8 suitcases and I’ve definitely accumulated stuff since I’ve been here. Add to that the furniture I've purchased and the hundreds of newspapers and magazines that I’ve been published in that have been multiplying as I've moved them in and out of four dorm rooms and three apartments here in Springfield.

For this reason, I’m starting a new series to document the things I'm eliminating from my life. I'm emotionally attached to most of it, so I have to remind myself that they are simply things.

At first I wanted to call this series: Crap I have to get rid of, but it has a story that needs to be told first. Or CIHTGROBIHASTNTBTF for short. That was (obviously) too long, so I came up with "Crap I don’t Need, But I love." CIDNBIL. Still too long.

Finally, I settled on Project Simplify: Stories of my Stuff. Each week, I will highlight an item that may or may not have a special memory or story, but needs to be eliminated from my life for one reason or another (namely, space).

The first item I've chosen to highlight is this beautiful artificially-aged tableau of the last supper, mounted on a slice of tree (bark included). It hails from Branson, Mo. and was acquired by me at the DAV (Disabled American Veteran's thrift store). It is quaint, kitschy, and a must-have for seminary students everywhere. As my December graduation looms near, I must be rid of it. If you know anyone in the market for one, let me know, otherwise it may be returning to the DAV where I found it.