Living on Dreams

You know that old country song that Alan Jackson once sung. You know, the one where living without someone isn’t worth the time. The one that I blame for my irrevocable desire to love and be loved. The one that makes it seem as if it is not worth it unless you have someone to love. Living on Love, you know the one.

Okay, so maybe it’s not that old and maybe he still sings it and maybe you don't know the song, but I left my Alan Jackson stage with my Bugs Bunny glasses back in 1998. Though, I never outgrew my desire and search for true love. And now that I have found love, I can’t believe how true this song is, but I think there is also something to be said about living on dreams.

Each day, I dream a little something new. Sometimes, it’s something as small as new shoes. I’m loving a retro pair of Tom wedges right now. But however small or large it is, it’s something that I hold tight onto. It’s a little something that carries me throughout my day. I fall asleep with these dreams, coddled in my arms like a newborn.

Living on love sure is swell, but I wouldn’t trade living on dreams for anything in the world. Especially when my dreams involve my love. 

Touch Tank Fun & A Flounder Dinner!

Living at the beach has it's perks. Yes. Crab bisque for lunch. A touch tank with blow fish, hermit crabs, baby flounder, and horseshoe crabs. And a fresh summer flounder for dinner. Yes, I would call those perks. And on top of everything, it was a cool summer day and I had a good run, two days in a row. A girl can get use to this lifestyle. 

Ask Questions: What do you like most about living at the beach?

That there is sand everywhere. Ironically, this is also the thing that I hate the most!

My Weekend In Photos

a bear and a dinosaur

sandy feet

summertime 

brown pelicans

Boogie Board

Check in day

Floating Cabins and Five Year Plans

I imagine the wide blue sky of the Blue Ridge stretched like a canvas above. The green mountain peaks though large in size seem like ant hills, unthreatening. The only thing between the crisp clear water of the Watauga and me is the floor beneath my bare feet.

It is dawn as the sun has just peaked its head above the horizon, wake up sleepyhead. I am already in my suit and in seconds, I leap delicate and strong. With very little splash I have started my daily routine, a swim in the cold lake. Better than yoga, sex or coffee to wake my achy, aging soul. My head pops out of the water interrupting the reflection of the sky. Half day, half is still night.

This is the only place that I feel free. 

I have a five year plan, do you think this is where I will be?

Wind Whistling Dixie

The words "who pissed off Mother Nature" riddled surf reports this weekend as a nor'easter blew gusts up to 35 miles per hour and whistled Dixie throughout the Father’s day weekend.  I whistled a little too, as I waited for visitors to arrive and depart, arrive and depart and I experienced my first real summertime beach visit. Things have calmed down a bit for now, the water’s turned warmer and the wind has relinquished some of its power. Things return to normal and I breath deep. Silence is refreshing. Adam is off fishing the calm seas in hopes to bring home dinner and I indulge in this downtime, until the next surge of visitors. 

Nags Head Pier House

The time I like the most.

The cool breeze ruffles through the open window and tickles the underside of the curtains. Afloat like a butterfly for a second than gradually brought back to place. It is nighttime and the crickets have awaken, as have the mosquitoes, though the smell of citronella burning has frightened most away. The gnats, flies, spiders have all gone to bed leaving me in the dark stillness interrupted only by the wind and the flickering of an oil wick. I rock in my hammock and stair through a peak in the roof to the blackness of the sky. I search for constellations. I find none, that I recognize, and am okay with that. I endure the itching of my skin riddled with bug bites and slapped by the sun. The towels are hanging on the line preparing themselves for groundhogs day tomorrow when they will see it all again. Déjà vu? My eyelids flicker shut, open, shut and I slip into dreamland, where in a drug induced daze I recount the dealings of the past day. Summertime is amongst us and it is the time I like the most. 

WORTH THE JOURNEY

As the days get longer and hotter, the nights get muggier, the winds change direction and blow instead from the west rather than Nor’east, with it comes the warm air and flies and the sense of prolongment. I turn 26. I feel no longer full of youthful bewilderment. Hangovers seem worse and tequila is still my number one enemy. Running seems harder, but more of a routine than a fun activity should there be the time. Nights full of sleep seem rare and afternoon naps more of a requirement. But dreams, the ones that appear as tiny little flickering fairytales gleam brighter. I can only hope by the time I am thirty they will shine like spotlights on the Appalachian horizon. But until then, I endure the long days and the short nights and the heat of reality reddening my face. And most of the time I think, it’s worth the journey.

My dreams for the future make everything worth my journey. What makes your journey worth it? 

BABY BLUES // SMA AWARENESS & POEM

A few days ago while I was sewing along a new DIY in my super messy spare room, aka. craft room (shh, don’t tell Adam), I started thinking about Logan. I don’t know what made me think of him, I’m sure it wasn’t the sewing, but that’s how those things go. I’ve realized that it’s been 4 months today since we lost him. I’ve realized for the past 121 days (and probably many more) there hasn’t been one day that I didn’t think of him. I’ve realized my heart still hurts. I’ve realized I’ll never stop missing him. I’ve realized many things. . . but mostly, that there are times when a heart will never mend.

sew your stiches

heal your wounds

deep inside a heart still bleeds true

scars they tell tales so true

some will mend

some never do

When the cat's away, the mouse plays.

Or at least that is how I felt last night, since Adam was out of town visiting his newest baby niece, who apparently has a head full of black hair. Precious!

Lolabear and I enjoyed watching ABCFamily (yes, Mrs. Doubtfire was on) and HGTV (many many episodes of House Hunters) and crafting until wee hours of the night (and not going for a run, which I'm a bit disappointed in myself about since it was national running day). Then we settled in bed with a good birding book.

The house is super lonely when Adam's away and though I love my free time, I mostly find myself at a loss with what to do. Last night I caught myself up on a few of my DIY project lists. Here's a little preview of a shirt I spiced up by putting some detailing on it.

Before.

After