This post brought to you by my mangled finger and burnt yam chips.
I am just a few photos away from having posted 1234 Instagrams. I like me some picture taking y'all. I love love love photography and don't get much time for it, so IG is kind of my outlet. I post a lot, and I will not apologize :) (I mean, you have the option to unfollow me so...)
I had a friend compliment my profile the other day and then tell me that she just never has anything Instagram-worthy to post. Which made me giggle in my head. Because really, do any of us? What even makes a moment "Instagram-worthy" in the first place? Also, if I admitted to you the number of times I go out of my way to get a decent Instagram, you would be embarrassed for me.
When I scroll through my personal feed I see sunlit flowers, cups of coffee, cute friends, design that inspires me....but in case I have given you the impression that I wake up every morning (on time) and put on an Anthro-tastic outfit and then stroll down a cobblestone street lined with impossibly perfect flowers to my favorite coffee shop where I design things all day because I have a stream of creativity that just never stops, let me clear that up for you right this moment.
This morning I woke up a half hour later than I intended because after a decade of using them, I still can't seem to figure out alarm clocks. I am a creature of habit so I threw on yet another denim shirt which I found semi-crumpled in the basket in the middle of my floor because my closest doesn't have a rack in it (an issue I am currently working on). Yeah, this dreamy nook I posted last week? It is literally the only tidy spot in my entire house right now. And by tidy I mean not covered in boxes upon boxes of goodness knows what.
Work was good, except I lost track of time finishing things and left 15 minutes later than I should have to beat any sort of traffic which resulted in minor law-breaking and internal cursing. I have low key road-rage issues...mostly of the interior persuasion. I've just got a need for speed, ok?
Fast forward to this evening when I arrived home after a birthday dinner for a couple friends. (Also, may I note that I did not post my Ali Baba Pitza even though it was delicious and had a perfect name? You're welcome.)
Before the dinner I stopped at Target to get a gift bag and on a clearance end-cap I happened to find a can opener which our house was in need of. When I got home I was taking the can opener out of its packaging, and like a heathen, I grabbed a knife. I distinctly remember thinking "This is a bad idea. I should go upstairs and get some scissors," but laziness won and I proceeded to not only open the packaging, but slice the side of my finger wide open as well. I swear I felt bone, but I'm too afraid to look at it.
After bleeding through three band-aids and trying desperately not to pass out –I do not do blood, people– I just sat there on my bed holding a paper towel on the cut willing it to stop bleeding. Insert full-on melt-down over cutting my finger and having no one to fix it for me. I literally turned into a giant baby right there on the spot. And then I rolled my eyes at myself, grabbed my keys and headed to Club Walgreezy* to get something to clean this battle wound with...and also maybe some more intense band-aids. I am referring to my cut as a battle-wound, because in the war against my own laziness and stubborn spirit, I almost lost a finger. Probably a tad dramatic, but I'm still a little woozy from the blood loss.
Upon returning and fixing my poor hand, I remembered there were sweet potatoes in the fridge about to go bad. I had intended to use them for yam chips, so I sliced them up and started frying them. Making chips of any kind is always an interesting experience. I have yet to make a successful apple chip. They are continually too soft and then BAM black and crispy and forever glued to your favorite cookie sheet.
So you can blame it on the fact that I suffered minor trauma tonight, or maybe just chalk it up to being HUMAN, but I burnt my first round of chips. And set the smoke detector off. And then the smoke detector fell off the wall and probably broke. Except I don't know because my finger started bleeding again. (I have ceased trying to convince my new roommates I am cool in any way.)
So maybe this was a particularly disjointed day in the life of Caitlin Elmore, but what I am saying is that in the midst of my incredibly human life I take pictures of the little things that catch my eye, edit them (usually in the bathroom, in line at Subway, or somewhere equally unglamorous), and post them for your viewing pleasure in hopes that you will do the same. (I have some accounts I seriously LOVE following.)
My life is not perfect and I know that yours is not either. For me, it's all about finding the beauty in the unexpected. Finding a little corner of the world that makes me look to my Creator and whisper "thank you."And occasionally clearing that ridiculous stack of junk mail out of the way and scooching (how on earth do you spell this) my coffee mug just a tad to left to get the perfect sunlit shot of my morning. (Fess up, we ALL have done it.)
I read an article not too long on the envy effect of social media. It was a good article. Because there are issues with it...like the need for "likes" many of us combat at one point or another. I think there is something to be said for checking yourself and your motives and taking time off from social media every once in awhile. But, I am also here to tell you that you do not have to feel guilty or fake for only posting the beauty in your life. Because realistically what are we expecting? Did you want to see a photo of my finger oozing blood with a filter slapped on top? No. You didn't. Because that is disgusting.
It is SO easy to feel envious of someone else's life and I am totally, totally guilty of experiencing this. But let's hold ourselves accountable to remembering that we are probably only seeing the good...and that's ok. I don't know about you guys, but I only show the deep, dark, raw parts of my life to a trusted few. I think that's ok too. It is ridiculous to assume that any one person on this planet is exempt from trial, frustration, pain, worry, financial struggle, identity issues...the list goes on. We live in a broken world. We are broken people. But Christ did not call us to dwell in this.
I am redeemed. Because of Christ I walk about in freedom and in joy. Not a circumstancial happiness type of joy, but an everlasting joy that no one can steal from me. And in return I give thanks. I hope that the photos you see communicate the gratitude I feel for being loved so completely by a good, good God. He is SO faithful. In all things. And on a really crappy day, I see this message of hope in a flower poking through a crack in sidewalk or a sunset over the city I love. (A-K-R-O-N)
And let's all just remember the things that aren't being Instagrammed.
Like bleeding fingers and burnt yam chips and tomorrow's dentist appointment..............um, pray for me.
I write this as a reminder to myself: You live a good life given to you by a good God. "Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." (1 Thessalonians 5:18)
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*We have taken to calling the corner Walgreens "Club Walgreezy" or some variation on this name, mainly because of the amount of people legit chilling outside the store at oh, you know, midnight.
Friday, September 20, 2013
Sunday, September 15, 2013
put on my blue suede shoes...
...except I don't own any. But if I did, you can bet I would be wearing them. I would like these ones, please and thank you.
I am currently sitting in the Starbuck's living room drinking an iced soy latte* from...Starbucks. You guys, this week I met people with the last name "Starbuck." Everyone PTL right now that this is not my last name because the puns and wordplay would never stop. If I know anything about myself, it's that I lack the ability to gauge when a joke is no longer funny. I will laugh at the same thing for years and years.
But in seriousness, it's really cool that I'm here. Two days ago I had never even heard of these people, and now I'm in their home and sleeping in their guestroom and eating all this wonderful food they are making for me. This totally beats a hotel. (FYI: hotels are sick nasty.) This is a cool "the church acting like the church" moment. (Sorry, I've been reading Jen Hatmaker and now this is all I think about.) It's humbling that this couple opened their home to total strangers just because they heard there was a need. Yes! This is how it should be!
So, to clarify, I am in Memphis, Tennessee. My staff director and his wife are involved with a wedding and I am in town to take care of their youngest so they can actually enjoy themselves. There's probably very few people on earth who enjoy hanging out with their bosses as much as I do. But they're not my bosses really, they're family. Eden, their youngest, is the cutest child in the entire world. I met her just days after she was born, she stole my heart, and never gave it back. So obviously I jumped at the chance to get to spend a whole weekend with her. (My best friend is allowed to be 13 months ok?)
After spending a day 1) in Memphis and 2) with a baby, here are some thoughts brewing in my mind:
Babies make really good dates. Probably not to like a movie or fancy restaurant or anywhere else where it would be totally inappropriate to make fart noises with your mouth and suck all the salt off a french fry...but otherwise, I stand by this statement. As long as they have napped, eaten, and are wearing semi-dry pants they are down for anything. Also, they never finish their food so you get at least half of whatever they are eating, and they will also laugh at all your jokes.
Memphis doesn't love Elvis as much as they have led us to believe. Ok maybe this isn't true. I didn't see the whole city, but I did walk around a good chunk of the downtown area. I really prepared myself for Elvis paraphernalia everywhere but this was not the case. Also, besides a few strange tourist items involving hearts and airbrushed Elvis portraits, anything related to the King of Rock 'n' Roll was really tasteful and well designed. I'm so confused.**
Someone should tell babies that staring is so rude. As I mentioned before, Eden is the cutest baby ever. My proof for the this rests in the fact that I was the single most popular person in Memphis today. People were chatting me up everywhere I went. For like two seconds. And then they would start a full on love-fest in Eden's face while she just stared back at them like they had ten eyes. Which only made them try even harder to make her smile. (Is this what mom's with babies go through every day in public? The horror.) Anyways, Eden was not having it...even though shes really a Chatty Kathy who giggles at even the anticipation of being tickled. What a tease.
Starbucks is like a hug from mom. Ok so here is a mini rant in support of Starbucks. I love traveling. I love cities. I LOVE local coffee shops. BUT...sometimes you are in the middle of a city you have never been in before and it is 80 degrees and you are dripping sweat and your head is revolting against you until you pump some caffeine in it and you are in charge of someone else's kid and you really have to pee and you would like to sit somewhere for a moment and devise a game plan for finding all the perfect shops that aren't swimming with tourists and did I mention you have to pee and then you turn the corner and there it is. The green circle and the weird mermaid lady with the spaghetti hair. And you walk inside and you don't even have to look at the menu or figure out where you pay and where you pick up your drink. You know that no matter where you are in the world it will be exactly the same. You are in Starbucks and you are safe.
Memphis is serious about food. One day I will come back here and eat my way through this city.
Babies are weirdos. I say this with only love in my heart. Anyone who knows me knows that I adore children. But seriously if I gave you a cracker would you stuff it down your pants? A baby would. A baby would also suck all the salt off their fries, the breading off their chicken nuggets, the sugar off their donut and they would also take giant gulps of water right out of their bath, soap and all.
Targets in different states have different things. This is not a thought. This is a true statement. True enough that I am considering a cross-country Target tour.
Strollers are amazing. If it wasn't totally unacceptable to push a stroller with out even having any children, I would go out and buy one tomorrow. Strollers add so much efficiency to life. That little basket under the seat is deceptive...you can fit SO MUCH down there. You will never carry a purse again. And forget about awkwardly juggling your drink while you try to go through the clearance jewelry rack at target. CUP HOLDERS. Also, pushing a child in one (uphill) is a total workout.
On that note, Men (or women) who do not hold doors open for someone pushing a stroller (or someone just walking) are rude rude rude. I watched door after door slam in my face today. Or better yet. The man who waited for me to struggle through the Barnes and Noble door before going in himself. Are you kidding me? Not cool, man.
Memphis probably looks amazing at night. Walking down Beale Street, there wasn't a single sign that wasn't made of neon-lights. I bet that place looks like my Christmas tree right now.
So there you have it. My super official guide to Memphis and babies.*** I will definitely be back to what seems like a lovely city...next time probably with someone who has the ability to sit at a bar stool and eat loads of BBQ. And as a closing note, how many years of life must I go through before I remember that Chick-fil-A is closed on Sundays? Constantly disappointing myself.
---
*These are my love language. I like the kind that are giant and never run out. And just save your soy-isn't-good-for-you-in-mass-quantites speech. It tastes like magic.
**I'm sorry if it seems I'm not an Elvis fan, it's just that I'm not an Elvis fan.
***This is definitely not my first time around young children....being the oldest of eight and all.
I am currently sitting in the Starbuck's living room drinking an iced soy latte* from...Starbucks. You guys, this week I met people with the last name "Starbuck." Everyone PTL right now that this is not my last name because the puns and wordplay would never stop. If I know anything about myself, it's that I lack the ability to gauge when a joke is no longer funny. I will laugh at the same thing for years and years.
But in seriousness, it's really cool that I'm here. Two days ago I had never even heard of these people, and now I'm in their home and sleeping in their guestroom and eating all this wonderful food they are making for me. This totally beats a hotel. (FYI: hotels are sick nasty.) This is a cool "the church acting like the church" moment. (Sorry, I've been reading Jen Hatmaker and now this is all I think about.) It's humbling that this couple opened their home to total strangers just because they heard there was a need. Yes! This is how it should be!
So, to clarify, I am in Memphis, Tennessee. My staff director and his wife are involved with a wedding and I am in town to take care of their youngest so they can actually enjoy themselves. There's probably very few people on earth who enjoy hanging out with their bosses as much as I do. But they're not my bosses really, they're family. Eden, their youngest, is the cutest child in the entire world. I met her just days after she was born, she stole my heart, and never gave it back. So obviously I jumped at the chance to get to spend a whole weekend with her. (My best friend is allowed to be 13 months ok?)
After spending a day 1) in Memphis and 2) with a baby, here are some thoughts brewing in my mind:
Babies make really good dates. Probably not to like a movie or fancy restaurant or anywhere else where it would be totally inappropriate to make fart noises with your mouth and suck all the salt off a french fry...but otherwise, I stand by this statement. As long as they have napped, eaten, and are wearing semi-dry pants they are down for anything. Also, they never finish their food so you get at least half of whatever they are eating, and they will also laugh at all your jokes.
Memphis doesn't love Elvis as much as they have led us to believe. Ok maybe this isn't true. I didn't see the whole city, but I did walk around a good chunk of the downtown area. I really prepared myself for Elvis paraphernalia everywhere but this was not the case. Also, besides a few strange tourist items involving hearts and airbrushed Elvis portraits, anything related to the King of Rock 'n' Roll was really tasteful and well designed. I'm so confused.**
Someone should tell babies that staring is so rude. As I mentioned before, Eden is the cutest baby ever. My proof for the this rests in the fact that I was the single most popular person in Memphis today. People were chatting me up everywhere I went. For like two seconds. And then they would start a full on love-fest in Eden's face while she just stared back at them like they had ten eyes. Which only made them try even harder to make her smile. (Is this what mom's with babies go through every day in public? The horror.) Anyways, Eden was not having it...even though shes really a Chatty Kathy who giggles at even the anticipation of being tickled. What a tease.
Starbucks is like a hug from mom. Ok so here is a mini rant in support of Starbucks. I love traveling. I love cities. I LOVE local coffee shops. BUT...sometimes you are in the middle of a city you have never been in before and it is 80 degrees and you are dripping sweat and your head is revolting against you until you pump some caffeine in it and you are in charge of someone else's kid and you really have to pee and you would like to sit somewhere for a moment and devise a game plan for finding all the perfect shops that aren't swimming with tourists and did I mention you have to pee and then you turn the corner and there it is. The green circle and the weird mermaid lady with the spaghetti hair. And you walk inside and you don't even have to look at the menu or figure out where you pay and where you pick up your drink. You know that no matter where you are in the world it will be exactly the same. You are in Starbucks and you are safe.
Memphis is serious about food. One day I will come back here and eat my way through this city.
Babies are weirdos. I say this with only love in my heart. Anyone who knows me knows that I adore children. But seriously if I gave you a cracker would you stuff it down your pants? A baby would. A baby would also suck all the salt off their fries, the breading off their chicken nuggets, the sugar off their donut and they would also take giant gulps of water right out of their bath, soap and all.
Targets in different states have different things. This is not a thought. This is a true statement. True enough that I am considering a cross-country Target tour.
Strollers are amazing. If it wasn't totally unacceptable to push a stroller with out even having any children, I would go out and buy one tomorrow. Strollers add so much efficiency to life. That little basket under the seat is deceptive...you can fit SO MUCH down there. You will never carry a purse again. And forget about awkwardly juggling your drink while you try to go through the clearance jewelry rack at target. CUP HOLDERS. Also, pushing a child in one (uphill) is a total workout.
On that note, Men (or women) who do not hold doors open for someone pushing a stroller (or someone just walking) are rude rude rude. I watched door after door slam in my face today. Or better yet. The man who waited for me to struggle through the Barnes and Noble door before going in himself. Are you kidding me? Not cool, man.
Memphis probably looks amazing at night. Walking down Beale Street, there wasn't a single sign that wasn't made of neon-lights. I bet that place looks like my Christmas tree right now.
Baby cuddles are the best. The end.
So there you have it. My super official guide to Memphis and babies.*** I will definitely be back to what seems like a lovely city...next time probably with someone who has the ability to sit at a bar stool and eat loads of BBQ. And as a closing note, how many years of life must I go through before I remember that Chick-fil-A is closed on Sundays? Constantly disappointing myself.
---
*These are my love language. I like the kind that are giant and never run out. And just save your soy-isn't-good-for-you-in-mass-quantites speech. It tastes like magic.
**I'm sorry if it seems I'm not an Elvis fan, it's just that I'm not an Elvis fan.
***This is definitely not my first time around young children....being the oldest of eight and all.
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