I AM FLAWED. NOW PASS THE BUTTER.

This image is © 2015 by Life As She Does It. Please link back or credit if any content or images are used.

This image is © 2015 by Life As She Does It. Please link back or credit if any content or images are used.

I am flawed.  On the inside and on-the-out.  And not just for me - but for women everywhere since the dawn of time - weight loss has been one of those flaws.  Well, I'm not sure weight LOSS is the struggle so much as weight GAIN. And loss.  And gain.

This is something I have struggled with my entire life.  Even when I was in high school and built like a brick poop-house and had the tiniest little waist, I had those thunder thighs.  And believe me, I know I did because those 'helpful peers' in school would tell me so.  "Hey, Thunder Thighs!  Where'd ya get those thunder thighs??"  Clever.  Very clever.

When I got pregnant with Chelsea, the time bomb kept ticking.  I gained 120 pounds.  I literally gained an entire person in nine months.  And I don't mean the 7-pound little person I was carrying.  And I had 'those' family members that liked to have fun at my expense and thought nothing of bestowing upon me my new nickname, Eclipse.  Nine months later, I got pregnant with Cameron and the weight gain continued, as did the new (and oh-so-funny) nicknames.

And let us not forget the people that dubbed me the Butter Body.  What's that, you ask?  Well you've heard of a butter face?  Where they say everything looks good on her but-her-face?  I was the opposite.  The people (I know you meant well, Y'all) who said, "You have such a pretty FACE!"  Which meant everything else was either not note-worthy, or it would be a shame to mention.  But-her-body.  Get it?

I am in the present.  I have since lost the weight, and it took hard work.  And it continues to be a struggle on a daily basis.  But so much of it (besides the eating right and exercise, obviously!) is about the heart of the story.  It is about living healthy in mind, body, and spirit. Those people that called me names, whether it was all in good fun, out of mean-ness, or their own insecurities; those people had no idea that no one is exempt from allowing that to define a person, and it indeed worked on me and made me unhealthy - on the inside and on-the-out - for a very long time.

I am in my 40s.  And I LOVE IT.  There is abundant power in the age that allows you to feel your sexiest, even though your body is not the same; or feel your best, even though you're so much older.  But it is not all about the age of wisdom and experience that has helped me learn to love and respect who I was, who I am and who I have become.  

I am a woman of faith.  There is a quiet and serene humbling that happens as you grow and develop in the life of having the Creator lead you that allows you to understand all are created, and a very large respect happens for all bodies that house the souls that are people - no matter what they look like.  You have more of a respect for the wrinkles and lines in a person's face that are proof that none of us are immune to life-and-death.  You have more of a respect for scars on a person that are proof of the battles they have fought.  You have more of a respect for every body-type that are proof that we are all different, yet created equal.  But it is not all about the strong foundation of faith I have that has helped me to learn to love and respect who I was, who I am,  and who I have become.

I have a husband.  He is also my friend.  And he is also at that age of wisdom and experience, and is also a person of faith, and continues to grow and develop in that.  And he loves me.  For who I've been, who I am, and who I have YET to become.  On the inside and on-the-out.

Example:  I am washing dishes.  The Hubster comes up behind me and grabs me around my mid-section playfully.  I, being coy (and a bit embarrassed about my mid-section, if we're being honest), say, "Hey!  Don't grab my rolls!"  And his retort?  He closes his eyes like he is picturing a smooth whiskey with a nice cigar, or a juicy steak wrapped in bacon, and says, "Mmmmmm.  Get me some BUTTER for dem rolls!"  I guess that makes me a Butter Body FOR REAL. 

I am grateful.  I am blessed to have that kind of love and friendship, and I allow it to have power over me and give me confidence.  He calls me beautiful every day, whether I've got my eyebrows and lips on, or if my hair is in a knot and I'm bra-less and in my loungy pants for the second day in a row.  And he knows I'm flawed on the inside and on-the-out.  And he doesn't care.  He loves me.  He lifts me up, edifies me, and encourages me.  He celebrates me.  

So who are you surrounding yourself with and what kind of power do you allow them to have over you?  Who do you allow to be relevant in your life?  Are you judging people for their outsides, yet never wanting to be judged for your own outsides?  Or do you allow yourself to see people as beautiful; flaws and all?  

Lift up, edify, and encourage people.  Celebrate them.  Celebrate you.  On the inside and on-the-out.  Do your best to live healthy in mind, body, and spirit - and pass that around.

And do me a favor:  PASS THE BUTTER.

Designed: A Guest Blog

Please do not copy this photo - all rights (reservedly) reserved through The Durham Family

Please do not copy this photo - all rights (reservedly) reserved through The Durham Family

Well, this month's Guest Blogger is very special to me.  You can rest assured you're in for something wonderful when you read her words.  She will tell you where to find her other work in the post, but I like that I can find her by my side whenever I need her.  Carly Durham is a woman of rare quality and substance and I admire and adore her.  You can look for a large dedication to her in my upcoming book - and an even larger one in my heart of hearts.  Love you, Car.  Readers:  READ ON.

Writing a guest blog for a woman who I consider to be nailing it when it comes to being a woman who can do it all (which she herself admits, she does not and we do not have to do it all- be it all, she just wants to encourage us to do what we do overflowing with passion and love) surprisingly brought up some shoved away insecurities.  I guest blog from time to time for random internet blog buddies and write occasionally over at adoption.com but a post for Life-As-She-Does-It felt daunting. And then she had to go and get the witty Katy Livingston to go first, leaving me the follow up post. I stand little chance. It’s like signing up for a meal train to bring my store-bought chicken or grilled cheese sandwiches the night after your foodie friend has listed she is making lambs with chimi-churi sauce and homemade buttered-pecan ice-cream. The "look-ahead" is a real technique to make sure you are not setting up your people for disappointment. Now here I offer you my boxed mac n’cheese with added hotdogs weenies after you just ate homemade beef bourguignon.  Go ahead a lower your expectations my people. 

While I no longer fear that I will be childless, my lack of fertility is a theme that runs deep in my life.  Insecurity attached to infertility molds my thoughts and shapes my worldview.
What does it say about me? About God? About who I am suppose to be?
Honestly, I give it way to much power. Why do I let it take root so deeply?
Here is where we are at: We have never stopped trying. Really, how can I stop? After 5 years of charting, peeing, calculating, I know this stuff down cold and am constantly aware of where I am at in my cycle. Woman was created to bear children. Go forth and multiply. Labor and Birth.
What does that say about me that I do not join my fellow woman in this path?
In a moment of doubt and insecurity, I sought counsel and comfort in a friend after a month of disappointment and grief.

"It's not so much that I ache for pregnancy so much anymore, I just feel flawed to my very core.  My body….. It's just I……… How come I don't do what I was designed to do! I hate my ovaries. UGH!"

Speaking TRUTH over me, she replied:

"I hear you what you are saying, on a whole, as a woman, what you feel women were designed to do. BUT YOU. YOU.  You were fearfully and wonderfully made and designed. There is great purpose in that."

Designed.

Can I hold on to that promise? Can I uproot the belief that I am failing in my "role" as a woman and rather plant the conviction that I was designed? That I was indeed fearfully and wonderfully made. (Psalm 139:13).

And further, when I question this truth, what am I saying about God?

Then I really dig in a little more, when I question this truth, what am I saying about my uniquely designed son?

I firmly believe he is fearfully and wonderfully made with this incredible extra chromosome. I would not for one-second question his design. Every inch! Every chromosome! (ohhh goodness- have you heard that he is the cutest baby in the world - because word is spreading fast!!!)

Designed.


Thankfully, God, He is not afraid of the dark places my doubts and insecurities take me sometimes and He finds me there. 

He would also be pretty cool about it if you wanted him to go ahead and shine some light on your dark places of doubt and disbelief if you want to ask him. Because while we cannot all rock turbans on hair and giant rings on our fingers like She does, we all have been designed to rock our own unique self.  Sometimes we start to doubt that.

Life-As-She-Does-It friends, you are women so unique. If you stumbled here to read about a legit recipe to prepare with hopes to razzle-dazzle your people for a meal train, or you have come seeking encouragement on how to make the magnificent mundane, know that life as You do it has great purpose and significance. Perhaps you are fashioned to be the mom that wears yoga pants every day and puts on make-up once a year for your husbands work Christmas party but you read books to your kids in the best character voices and make a slammin-good lasagna. Or maybe you are the woman who does not leave the house without her lashes on and lips drawn, who started her own business and is not looking to start a family as she is diving into the calling God put on her heart. Either way. Every way.
 
Designed.

Own it. You are a created woman. You've nailed it.

If You Build It, They Will Come

*Photo credit HERE

*Photo credit HERE

Lord knows (as do I) - I haven't always made good decisions.  Or right decisions.  Or righteous decisions.  In fact, looking back I would venture to say a lot of the decisions I've made were quite the opposite.  I would venture to say it took me a long time to understand what learning from my mistakes meant.  I say that because perhaps I made the same mistake more than once.  Or twice.  Or more than twice.

Don't get me wrong.  I mean, I've definitely done some good things in my life.  Take a look at my children and you will know that's true.  (I do good work, Y'all.)  But the lovely and well-grounded human beings they have become came through trial-and-error, not through making all the right decisions.

What I have learned over the course of my life - whether good or bad decisions were made - is the power of the legacy you build.  The very children I speak of are positive proof of that.  And so are their spouses.  

"What do you mean by that, She?"  "How could you possibly have had anything to do with the people your children married?"  I'm glad you asked those questions!

When my children were small, I never knew the power of a praying parent.  I did all the things to take care of them physically: I brushed their teeth, helped them with their homework, bathed them, fed them, put giant helicopter bows in their hair.  (Well, not the boys.  Well, sometimes the boys.  But just for fun - perhaps that can go into the bad decision pile.)

Thinking about how fantastic my son-in-law and daughter-in-law are obviously makes me grateful for their parents - because just like me, right or wrong they did their best - and it happened to work!  But for me, personally, I now know it's about building your legacy; building an example, building tradition.  Children THRIVE on it.  They watch you.  Ohhhhh BOY, do they watch you!  And they remember EVERYTHING.  And they carry on traditions.  And they really don't want to disappoint you as parents.  (Even if you're not a parent, you're someone's child, and you know exactly what I mean.  And even if you are not close with your parents, you STILL know what I mean through that loss.)

By the time I learned the value of building these things and building my children up in prayer, I thought it may be too late.  But it wasn't.  I got started immediately after I came to realize that something like praying for your child's spouse, even when they are young and long before their True Loves come along, is valuable to the legacy they themselves build as they grow - and also who they choose to do life with.

I learned that if you build it, they will come.

I know, I know.  There are some of you that just can't believe that building prayer up for your children in their lives is truth; that it's worth the effort.  There are some of you that are believers but still don't understand you can be building your legacy and that of your child's through every decision you make and the consequences that stem from them.  There are also some of you that simply think I stole this idea from an old (but classic and awesome) baseball (and legacy!) movie and I'm just crazy.  But I have proof.  I believed it.  I built it.  AND THEY CAME.  And they have been beautifully built into our family and our traditions and our prayers as well!

Do I want to choke my kids out sometimes to this day?  YOU BET.  Do I know they sometimes imagine doing the same to Adrian and me?  Uhhhhh, YES.  Is life easier now?  No.  Can I go back and undo the poor decisions?  Nope.  But I can find joy in just about anything now.  And I can look upon my children and their (hand-picked, prayed-for) spouses with a grateful heart.  And I know that life is good, even when it isn't.  

And I know that if you build it, they WILL come.  It's never too late to get started.  

So?  BUILD IT.

“The past is a pebble in my shoe.” ~ Edgar Allan Poe  (Past failures remind us of the importance of the choices we make today.)

"Outlive your life!" ~ Max Lucado

"The proverbs of Solomon, son of David, king of Israel: To know wisdom and instruction, to understand words of insight, to receive instruction in wise dealing, in righteousness, justice, and equity; to give prudence to the simple, knowledge and discretion to the youth— Let the wise hear and increase in learning, and the one who understands obtain guidance" ~Proverbs 1:1-33

 

The Pursuit of a Domestic Pursuit: A Guest Blog

Photo Source HERE

Photo Source HERE

Hi, All!  I have a treat for you guys and cannot WAIT to share it!  I have a guest blogger today by the name of Katy Livingston, and let me just tell you - she has a GIFT, Ya'll!  She is a talented writer (visit her blog!), and a devoted mom and wife.  She is, in my opinion, a GREAT balancer, which is rare these days.  She may say otherwise, though, as we women tend to do.  But I'll let her tell you more: TAKE IT AWAY, KATY!

Hey all, I'm Katy, and I usually blog over here at http://livingaslivingstons.blogspot.com/.  A HUGE thanks to Sheila for inviting me to this corner of the interweb!  I have never “guest blogged” so to speak, so Sheila is taking a huge risk here. If you haven't met She, one of her biggest gifts is that people like me can't say “no” to her. I am filled with equal parts admiration and fear of her.  It's a beautiful thing. So full disclosure before we get started:

comfortzone

On being almost 30 Without Finding a Domestic Pursuit

If you know me, you know this: I have the best parents in the world. My life growing up was pretty much cake (even though the recent release of Jurassic World has freshly opened the wound from when the original Jurassic Park came out in theaters and my parents wouldn't let me see it because it was PG-13 and I was probably 8. It's 5 years, guys! No one even follows those rules!)

Despite the awesomeness of having folks who loved us and even seemed to genuinely enjoy spending time with us, I recently discovered that I missed out on one key aspect of adulthood: a domestic hobby. My mother succeeded in all aspects except passing down a really cool skill that I can utilize now and bring with me into my golden years. I look around and see other ladies who have creative hobbies, and I feel left out.  While I am totally at peace with the whole Stay-at-Home Mom gig, I just haven't even found my thing.  I have friends who may use extra time alone to craft because it's “cathartic.” If I have some extra time to myself, I think, “I guess I could shave my legs or something...”

So far, my domestic hobbies are as follows:

 having babies

 making lists

 finding dessert recipes on Pinterest for my husband to bake

 blog stalking

 going to Kroger (I know this is weird. But seriously, grocery shopping is the best!)

Now, lest you think I have spent no time brainstorming other options:

  I considered learning to sew. I even made a sewing board on Pinterest, but as it turns out, I just like making boards, because it's the same as writing a list. My sweet friend tried to teach me how to thread the needle of a sewing machine, and I was just sitting there, sweating, trying to remember what she was saying.  Why are there 4 steps just to put thread in there?! There has to be a better way.  Add this to the fact that my Mother-in-law is literally a professional quilter, and I don't want to bother trying to live up to that level.

  Gardening: Maybe. This one is still a consideration. I can't see myself enjoying crawling around on the ground and getting dirt all over my hands, but I guess that shouldn't bother me since I spend most of my days in the cesspool that is kid germs.  Also, it's blazing hot outside.

  Knitting/Crocheting: I don't know the difference between the two. I love the idea of sitting in a rocking chair and having a little project in my lap. But the counting. The counting.  I can see myself losing count and ruining scarves that I won't ever have the opportunity to wear because of the blazing heat.

  Cooking: I generally prefer eating. Cooking is fine, but I don't love it. I also don't seem to have a knack for it.  Plus, I don't usually try any recipe with over 5 real ingredients, 5 steps, and like 4 dishes to clean.  I do love the Food Network, though.

  Photography: This is the last photo I've  taken:

Please do not copy this photo - all rights (reservedly) reserved through Katy Livingston

Please do not copy this photo - all rights (reservedly) reserved through Katy Livingston


#ExhibitA #nofilter

  Crossfit: because... I just can't, y'all. Also, I don't want to “Eat clean and train dirty.” I mostly just want to train a little bit dirty and not really eat clean at all. I don't need that kind of peer pressure in my life.

Here is where I have hit the dead end. But I would be lying if I said I didn't have one pursuit at all. I sort of do: reading.  As a kid, I used to read in the car on the 4-minute drive home from elementary school. In middle school, I used to read a lot of novels about people with terminal illnesses, and my mom was worried I would need therapy or something. I forgot how to read for fun during high school and college. My friends who worked at a bookstore would give me book recommendations that never failed to stir up something in me and bring me back to the joy of a new book. Then somewhere along the way, I let myself fall into the mom trap of surviving the day and falling onto the couch for some mind-numbing tv before bed every. single. day.

But guess what? I just joined a book club. And I just started reading a real book, and I love it. I feel like a new woman. And I'm going to try to not be too awkward when I meet some new ladies to eat snacks and chat about said book. And I won't feel badly that I don't have a thing right now that allows me to make someone a gourmet meal or sew cute baby gifts or have a beautifully landscaped yard or homegrown vegetables or a sick body. I'll just enjoy those few minutes I have been spending every night immersed in a beautiful, new world by the glow of my Kindle light while my husband drifts off to sleep next to me.

Because that's enough for me right now.

What She Wore, Crabs, & More

Photo Source: HERE

Photo Source: HERE

Look, I know the title of this post makes me sound a lot like Dr. Seuss, but there is a method to my madness.

There are so many successful blogs out there, and I really want to be one of them.  So in doing my research on what makes some of them so successful, I discovered that several of them include a “What I Wore” post every-so-often.  Well, Ladies (and if the title didn’t turn you away from reading on, Fellas, then I respectfully include you, too), since that is not exactly my style – to brag on my style – I thought, “Perhaps I can demonstrate my own take on it, She-STYLE.”  (See what I did just there?)

You see, every Fourth of July, The Hubster (Adrian) and I have our Annual Camping on the Beach Date Night.  (I capitalize it to emphasize its importance).  This year, he decided it was time to christen me to the crabbing world. 

Now I don’t know about you, but Date Night of any kind is an exciting thought – even if you know you’re gonna catch crabs.  So every year for camping, being the Bohemian-Glitter-Girl that I am, I try to dress up without dressing up.  I want my man to think I’m purty after all; but I also don’t want to wear a ball-gown to the murky waters of Surfside, Texas. 

In all the afore-mentioned blog posts, these girls have definitely got their sassy pants (or dresses, or whatever) on.  Trendy, pricey, and GORGEOUS.  Thing is, my take is a little different.  For instance, let me walk you through last year’s ensemble:

This image is © 2015 by Life As She Does It. Please link back or credit if any content or images are used.

This image is © 2015 by Life As She Does It. Please link back or credit if any content or images are used.

Hat: 99 Cent Store, $1, Glasses: Target (pronounced “tarjay”, of course) Dollar Clearance Bins, $1, Earrings: Beauty by Chelsea, thank you very much (in other words, The Daughts gave them to me), Shirt: Tough Mudder Team Carpe Diem, Free (I EARNED that sucker!!), Capri Mom-Jeans: Goodwill, $4.99, Shoes: Penny Wise Resale, $2

Yea.  Not too trendy OR pricey.  (But guess what?  The Hubster DID say I looked GORGEOUS.  Even in my high-waisted mom-jean capris.  He made the conscious effort to say so.  Rare, I know.) 

This year's ensemble and where it came from would equally bore you, but the date details wouldn’t.  (No.  Not THOSE details, Dirty-Birdies) So we use our small means to make for a big night…who CARES about that part?  The tent goes in the back of the truck and we literally lay on cardboard and blankets.  We drink wine out of plastic wine glasses that get sand in them and make our mouths a little gritty.  We watch the free fireworks at night over the sand and water.  And boy-oh-BOY did we go CRABBING!  We caught a bountiful booty of blues…and then we partook in the trophy that was sweet crabby meat!  Did it REALLY matter what I wore?  To take this moment in our very SHORT lives to breathe each other in?  To take this moment in our very BUSY lives to remember how small we are next to the great, big ocean God created, but how meaningful our living legacy and the one we leave behind can be in the very moment we remember that?

What you have or how much you spend does not make the man (or woman), I tell ya.  What you do with what you’ve been given sure does.  Do you let bitter people steal your joy?  Or are you, perhaps, one of those joy-thieves referred to? Are you making the most of every, single, precious moment?  Or are you recklessly wasting time sweating the small stuff? 

Are you dressing for success when you wake up without even thinking about clothing, or in your most-expensive clothes are you setting yourself and others up for failure?

Are you basking in crabs, or are you one of them?

Me?  When others are talking about What SHE Wore, I hope they are inclined to say, “Her heart.”

When Life Is Chronic, BE BIONIC

Photo Source: dreamstime

Photo Source: dreamstime

Some say it was from all the running and athletics I did when I was younger.  Some say it was from old injuries.  Legend even has it that it was the weight of my purse.  The Hubster says it was from the weight of all the jewels in my crown.  I like to think it was from so much prayer, but I'm guessing not.  Whatever the cause, I'm 44, and recently had to have both of my knees replaced.

My recovery has been, also according to legend, nothing short of amazing.  My surgeon, (Dr. Vishal Shah - GO SEE THIS GUY!), says I'm an animal!  

This image is © 2015 by Life As She Does It. Please link back or credit if any content or images are used. 

This image is © 2015 by Life As She Does It. Please link back or credit if any content or images are used. 

Perhaps it was the blinged-out walker:

woopshe
These images are © 2015 by Life As She Does It. Please link back or credit if any content or images are used. 

These images are © 2015 by Life As She Does It. Please link back or credit if any content or images are used. 

Perhaps it was my physical therapist (Tyler Humphrey at First Colony Aquatics - go see HIM, too!):

This image is © 2015 by Life As She Does It. Please link back or credit if any content or images are used. 

This image is © 2015 by Life As She Does It. Please link back or credit if any content or images are used. 

All the prep from my chiro, Dr. Derek Maxson and my trainers, Cameron Garcia and Jan-Michael Jenkins at Legacy Fitness (ya GOTTA go see them!!) may have played a part......

These images are © 2015 by Life As She Does It. Please link back or credit if any content or images are used. 

These images are © 2015 by Life As She Does It. Please link back or credit if any content or images are used. 

legacyshe

Perhaps it was the UNBELIEVABLE support I had from The Hubster, the kiddos, the friends, family, and community (too many pics to place here, but you know EXACTLY who you are).

People keep ranting to me and asking me how I healed so quickly; some accused me of being just plain crazy.  (I'm fairly certain that is not a healing agent, but I could be wrong, as they are mostly right about the crazy part)  All I know is worry gives a small thing a big shadow.  We have been through so much together as a family; because of that, we have learned that faith and hope, and not giving something more stress than is due, is the main cocktail recipe for success.  I am grateful for my new knees in this New Year.  I'm bionic, now, after all!

I'm also back on my knees in prayer, and what I'm praying for is an opportunity to give something - even if it is some small thing - to those of you who read this blog.  (Thank you, by the way - I'm fairly certain you are a small family) What could that be, you ask??

JOY.

My hopes are for this blog to be refined and become bionic - much like my new knees. I want to work more in the community and want you to join me. So please keep a watch on the Servant's Corridor page, or even send me a way to add to it to be able to help someone you know.

Who surrounds you? Who do you surround yourself WITH? Is there constant negativity or bitterness trying to steal your joy? Are there circumstances that take away your desire to believe life is good, even when it isn't? REFUSE to give in to that. Life is too short, and you have a purpose here. And help those around you who need that same joy find it.  If you haven't started already, you have a living legacy to build, and one to leave behind.  

BE NOTHING SHORT OF AMAZING. Find your joy - and keep it.  Be......BIONIC.

Vigilante Vortex

Photo Source: https://pixabay.com/en/superheroes-batman-wonder-woman-534104/

Photo Source: https://pixabay.com/en/superheroes-batman-wonder-woman-534104/

Do you have, or have you EVER had, someone in your life you view as your hero?  I have had a few in my lifetime.  Perhaps there will be more to come, but for now, I remember every single person in my life I've ever seen as my hero.  There are differentiating reasons, of course, and they run the gamut.

When I was in elementary school, I knew a girl that had a hard - and I mean HARD life.  She came to school with bruises, her clothes were not clean, and her shoes were falling apart.  She and I were good friends, though.  Perhaps because we were both bullied we had a kinship.  But I looked up to her.  She made good grades, never complained, and always worked hard.  When I found out about her home life and saw how hard she worked in school and never let those bullies get the best of her, she became a hero to me.  I looked up to her and often thought she might just grow up to BE a super hero!

Certain members of my family took very good care of me.  Whatever the reason, and whatever the time line, they took time from their own lives to try to do whatever it took to show me love when I was a very small child.  I didn't know it then, but they have since grown to be heroes of mine in my adult years as I look back.

Many people stand out to me.  But there is one instance in particular where a small group of people became my heroes all at once.

It started with the egging of our house in mid-October one year.  Eh.  Sometimes people make bad decisions in the name of fun, so we chalked it up to just that.  Until it escalated to rotten meat, terroristic phone calls in the middle of the night or wee hours of the morning, and down-right torture on a daily basis.  And it lasted for MONTHS. Now who it was or why they did it doesn't matter - that's a story for another post (Or maybe it isn't.  I don't want to give those crooks any more spotlight than they deserve!)  End result: they were caught.  Now they obviously aren't heroes of any kind.  It's the people that helped us through that traumatic time in our lives.

All we did was share what was happening with friends; and those friends, Hugh Durlam, Jan-Michael Jenkins, and Derek Rogers showed up to our house, and along with our son, Cameron, our son-in-law, Sam, and The Hubster....FOR THREE NIGHTS IN A ROW ALL NIGHT LONG......sat outside our home crouched in the shadows, waiting and watching - to help capture the criminals.  And they weren't the only ones!  The "un-sung heroes" as I've heard it put lately - the WIVES of these men (Diana, Amber, Lauren, and Chelsea) - never complained or said no to their daredevil husbands playing the part of the Justice League.

Of course, Adrian and I did all we could to make it fun - I baked throughout the night in a dark house and made sure everyone had cookies and milk (true super-hero food!) as they lie in wait.  We had walkie-talkies.  We prayed. We laughed.  And we cried.

When the authorities caught them (ultimately due to our vigilante nights and uncovered evidence!) we decided to throw a (costume) party in honor of our hero-friends.  (Of course we did!)  We gathered all those that helped.....all those heroes......and we told them to dress as their own favorite hero and come be honored at the party we dubbed 'Vigilante Vortex'.  It was one of the best nights of celebration I've ever had.  There was Hulk Hogan, Zombie Apocalypse Killers, Batman, Rocky, even The Lone Ranger...the list goes on!  (Photos below)  We played.  We laughed.  And we cried.  It was nothing short of amazing to The Hubster and me, and filled us with awe and wonder, how these people were so willing to sacrifice and give of themselves simply because they love us.  

That is definitely the definition of a hero in my book: one that gives sacrificially.

Think about all the heroes in the world.  Maybe you don't know them personally, or perhaps you do.  Maybe you think immediately of the soldiers who sacrifice every day.  Maybe it's your mom or your dad who sacrificed so much to raise you.  Maybe you think of your spouse that had to sacrifice in some way to show their love and admiration for you.  Maybe it's a teacher that sacrificed and invested time in you to help set you up for success.  Maybe it's a Martin Luther King, Jr., or a Rosa Parks, or even an Abe Lincoln.  Or maybe it's just someone who loves you so much they have shown that love selflessly and sacrificially.

Remember who YOU are to people.  Be intentional and sacrificial.  Be loving and selfless.  BE SOMEONE'S HERO.

These images are © 2015 by Life As She Does It. Please link back or credit if any content or images are used. 

Egg on My Face

Photo Source: http://www.pdpics.com/photo/2008-mad-egg-emoticon/

Photo Source: http://www.pdpics.com/photo/2008-mad-egg-emoticon/

Easter is one of my most-favorite times of the year.  There are many reasons:

1. I'm a Believer, and as a Believer, this holiday represents the height of what my personal faith lies on - Jesus is alive!

2. I love the way springtime feels.

3. It is a tradition in my (Italian) family to make salami pie!  WHO DOESN'T LOVE SALAMI PIE??

4. Pastels.

5. We get to eat colored hard-boiled eggs.  YUM.

I love coloring the eggs.  We have done it every year since the kids were small, and continue to do it even though they are grown now.  I especially love coloring them now that I am much more chemical-conscious.  I have found so many ways to color eggs naturally!

Now a few years ago, in preparation to color our Easter eggs, I did what every one of YOU do prior to coloring eggs for Easter: I boiled them.  (Notice I didn't say "hard-boiled" them?)

I thought I did all the right things.  I brought the eggs to a rolling boil, let them cook in the water for some time, and then turned off the heat and rinsed them with cold water.  I put them in the fridge to cool prior to coloring them, and started on my food coloring ingredients of rosemary, blueberries, purple cabbage, red zinger tea bags, and turmeric.  I was just sooooo proud of myself.  So I called The Hubster to the beautiful table I had set with the array of colored water/vinegar elixirs I had prepared, the carton of boiled eggs (nope, still not gonna use the other reference), and two lovely glasses of wine.  (Those were for us, not the eggs).  Adrian had turned on some nice music and we got to work.

After each egg was colored, we tenderly placed them back in the egg carton to dry.  Easter morning before church, I placed all the eggs into the cutest little basket and placed them on the table as a centerpiece where we would be eating these eggs, along with our Easter ham, salami pie, and other goodies.  The kids look forward to this very meal every year!  The Hubster likes his with a little mayo, relish, and cayenne.  Cameron pops an entire egg into his mouth at one time.  Chelsea carefully cleans out the yolk and gives it to Sam while she eats the whites. And Jordan slices his and puts it on his ham - ohhhhhhh, how the family would be SO PROUD of me when they saw these eggs!   They looked stunning, even if I did say so myself.

As I set the table that afternoon, those beauties were calling my name.  Which one should I eat?  Which one wouldn't take away from the glorious eye-feast that was my egg centerpiece?  Which one would I delight in sprinkling a little sea salt and cracked black pepper on before placing the delectable into my watering mouth??

I slowly scanned the treasure basket and focused in on the deep-emerald splendor and grabbed it, carefully tucking the other eggs not chosen into its place so as not to disturb the egg-basket trophy I so proudly displayed.  Holding it in front of me in both hands like it were delicate glass (okay, that part's not true, but it made for good imagery), I went into the kitchen, opened the garbage basket, and begrudgingly (it was just SO PRETTY, after all) banged it on the counter so as to crack it's armor and peel it away to the delicious orb that lie beneath.

Here comes the good part.

So I smashed it.  I wanted to just be able to give it a good crackin' to hurry and get to it, after all.  BOOM.  Full-hand smash.  Aaaaand the egg exploded all over me; like, EXPLODED.  Apparently, I had NOT boiled them properly, and the only part of it cooked was a small layer around the outside.  That layer blew into bits upon the smash, and the rest of the liquidy egg was everywhere.

I literally was standing there with egg on my face.

And we did not get to eat our eggs that year, either, needless to say.  (Oh, don't worry - there was PLENTY of ham and salami pie, along with decadent potatoes and asparagus, but that's a story for another post)

I have now, thanks to that experience, perfected the hard-boiled egg.  Perfect white, not too rubbery, and the golden center, not too dry, but cooked just right.  I have taken this secret out of the vault and am giving it to you as a gift.  The 'recipe' is below.

Do you prize what looks good on the outside, never REALLY taking the steps needed to go a little deeper and find out if what's inside is what is REALLY of worth?  As you age, are you gracious to yourself and consider the wealth of knowledge and experience you've gained over the course of this precious life to put into the vault, or do you just waste this gift of life wishing you could do it over again?  Don't wind up with egg on YOUR face.  Remember to look past what's only skin-deep and find value in the golden center that's been cooked just right......it helps perfect the recipe for the legacy you leave behind.

THE PERFECT HARD-BOILED EGG

Place your eggs in the pot you wish to boil them in.  Cover them with water and sprinkle with a touch of baking soda (this helps the peeling process!).  Bring to a rolling boil.  Cover and remove from heat.  Let them sit for exactly 13 minutes.  Pour out the water and cover with cool water.  Let sit 3 more minutes.  Rinse with cold water again, letting the cold water run over the eggs for another minute or two.  Eat right away or refrigerate and save for later.

This image is © 2015 by Life As She Does It. Please link back or credit if any content or images are used. 

This image is © 2015 by Life As She Does It. Please link back or credit if any content or images are used.