Sitting down to drink my hot tea, eating my bowl of cereal and listening to Death Cab...this is a blogging moment. Its slightly gloomy out, but still bright. This is the perfect. Sitting here I feel like right now, at this very moment all my fears and failures are colliding with my hope and excitement. Normally I would feel like the previous sentence was just one big cliche, but now its all too real. I have had a full helping of each of these: fear, failure, hope, and excitement. My heart leaps inside my chest just writing this. Its almost like writing out the recipe to your favorite meal and not realizing it until you are finished. In all the spiritual and emotional growth spurts in my life all these things were present. There is a very prominent part of me that just wants to feel the blissful cloud of happiness, but I know that where I am is better. I know that this season is a season for learning the hard lessons and learning about myself.
A couple of weeks ago I had a crazy pregnancy moment, at its fullest. If you have ever visited us here in Arlington or visited my old DBU apartment, you know about our table. It was an awesome First Monday find. It is a big, old, beautiful table. Its off white with hints of a little gold (or yellowing over the years...but either way). It has its flaws. In one corner, it looks like someone took a saw and just cut a line straight down, in the middle there is a huge scuff-like black mark, and in a few places it looks like someone set a newspaper down on the paint before it was completely dry. So, in my craziness, I decided that I needed to paint this table. I wanted it too stand out, but also still look kinda worn down. I took out some of my acrylic paint (yes thats right, you can already tell this is going to be bad) and mixed some green and white (to what I thought was a nice light shade of green) and started painting. I completely ignored any voice in the back of my head that was saying "hey shouldn't you sand this thing down? Or at least investigate what type of paint you should be using?" I gleefully painted away. My sweet husband just stood back and let me have my hay day. He even asked those questions that were already in the back of my mind, but I assured him it would all turn out perfectly. And some part of me also thought "I'll just paint the top." Dumb. So now, everytime I look at this, once precious table, all I see is a bad (seriously bad) paint job that is easily scratched to reveal the off white color and all too closely resembles a billiards table. I wish I was exaggerating.
Thats all for now, and yes, those two paragraphs are disconnected from one another. Maybe somehow they relate, because both thoughts were screaming at me to be blogged. Oh, and if you know how to fix my table and make it cute again, or even how to properly paint it I would be so grateful to hear it.