Spiller

I have many nicknames.

Some are affectionate -- Sweetheart, for example.

Some have to do with my name -- Kate, KEG, KEGgerator, Thorney (maiden name was Thorne).

Some are downright random -- Boogs, Boofer, Moose, to name a few.

And a handful are sort of teasing -- Gypsy, Bag Lady, and... Spiller.

Today I want to write about why I am known as Spiller.

I've never claimed to be graceful. I can be poised and gracious at weddings or cocktail parties, but graceful, smooth, naturally athletic, possessing a sense of balance? Those qualities, I lack.

I run into walls and door frames in my own house, frequently have to remind myself "swing your arms," and shuffle my feet when I walk, which often leads to epics tumbles. And yes, I blame it on the pavement. "Wow, that sidewalk is uneven!" I say to no one in particular, laughing nervously as I pick myself up off the ground. I bump my head about 50 percent of the time when getting in and out of cars, and I perpetually have curling iron burns on my neck, scalp, or forehead.

Basically, I'm clumsy.

Brad dubbed me "Spiller" after about the 12th or 13th time I knocked over a glass, mug, or bottle full of liquid.

I hate the nickname Spiller.

Inevitably, kitchen table flooding commences, and as I'm running to the drawer where I keep the rags, I hear "Spillllllleeerrrrrrrrrr," the end of the word rising in the same tone and tenor that Ricky Ricardo used to cry, "Lucccccyyyyyyyy."

And I shoot back with a, "Well you filled my glass up too high!" or "You shouldn't put your tea so close to the edge!"

But every now and then, I have to face the reality that this particular nickname is well-earned.

Exhibit A:

You may recognize that as a SEVERELY shattered iPhone screen. Frankly, I have never seen anything quite like it.

It's the result of a "freak" (I contend) purse-falling incident in an airport parking lot one evening. My purse "fell" from a height of about 18 inches, the phone seemed to tumble out in slow motion, and when I picked it up, it looked like it had been swathed in spider webs.

I really cannot understand how such carnage came from so little clumsiness. But there it is.

I was by myself, so I determined to conceal the damage from he-who-loves-to-call-me-Spiller. I did my research and found I could replace the phone for $250 (Apple doesn't fix screens; they just replace the phone if it's under warranty). Whew, okay, done. I made plans to go to Northpark the next day for the switcheroo.

But as I was lying (no pun intended) in bed, I started thinking about other, less expensive options.

K, sweetly: "Brad?"

B, sleepily: "Hmm."

K: "Do you remember what credit card we bought my iPhone with?" (I lost my original iPhone in May and paid Brad back in installments for a new one.)

B: "Umm, not really."

K: "Well... Can you think of it?"

B: "Why?"

K: "No reason, really... Just curious."

(silence)

K: Hey Brad?

B (trying to sleep and growing frustrated): What.

K: Do you know if any of your credit cards insure purchases against loss or damage?

B: What did you do.

K: Nothing, I --

B: Katie, what did you do to your iPhone.

So I showed him. And he had the same reaction I did: "What's that on the screen?"

Yes, he called me Spiller. But he fixed my problem, too. After quite a bit of research the next morning, he found a place in Dallas that fixes iPhones in 15 minutes while you wait, for less than a third of what Apple would have charged. Their work is so good that they won't void the warranty; Apple will have no idea the parts aren't original or the phone was ever opened, supposedly.

My man delivered. I don't know why I was so hesitant to admit what happened. In fact, Brad bought me a gift.

A "Spiller-proof" iPhone case.

Baking and New Beginnings

what would life be like if we had no courage to attempt anything?

vincent van gogh

Inspirational quote + a tie to my beloved discipline of art? Double whammy.

Alison, queen of giving good advice, throwing surprise parties, making Excel spreadsheets, choosing greeting cards, and other valuable skills, imparted these words via a killer Hallmark as I was packing up and leaving my first "grown-up" job two weeks ago. I didn't expect to cry, but...

A truly wonderful opportunity with a medical device company came my way, and I had to take it, leaving behind my good friends at the PR agency. (Or, as Alison says, not really leaving... just turning work friends into friend-friends.)

I showed my appreciation for all that I had learned during my years at the agency through one of my love languages, giving. Baking, to be exact, three days out of my last five in the office. Only thing is, it was one of my crazier weeks, what with school, leaving a job, preparing to travel out of town to start a new job the next Monday, going away happy hours and the like. So I committed a cardinal baking sin (for baking snobs like me, who, like Ina Garten, insist on using only good ingredients... "good olive oil," "good cocoa powder," "good vanilla" -- you get the picture): I used mixes. For every. single. baked good.

And they were really just as good as the from-scratch stuff that takes three times as long. (gasp)

* Sorry the format of the recipes isn't pretty. Blogger's formatting capes are, let's say, limited.

** All food photos are from my phone. The photos above are from Brad's "new job" present to me, a nice, new digital SLR. :)

*** Final caveat, I promise. I've been computerless and Photoshop-less for 2.5 weeks, but soon I promise you whimsical photo montages. Soon, friends.

Day 1: Mini Banana Muffin Cakes

Here's the thing about these muffin cakes (muffiny cupcakes). I sort of winged it. I adapted a recipe I picked up a long time ago that I break out whenever I have overripe bananas, and the freezer already has a loaf of banana bread. So here is generally what I did.

Muffin cakes:

1 pkg yellow cake mix

3 overripe bananas

1 cu. sour cream (reduced fat is fine)

1-1/2 t. baking soda

1/2 to 1 t. cinnamon, depending on your preference

1/4 t. nutmeg

Cream cheese frosting:

2 8 oz. pkg cream cheese (I use 1/3-less fat)

1 stick (1/2 cu.) butter

2 cu. confectioners' sugar

1 - 2 t. vanilla extract (depending on your preference... I tend toward more vanilla)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Prepare cake mix according to package directions (sub out the oil for applesauce if you want). Stir in mashed bananas, sour cream, baking soda, and spices. Spoon 1 T. of mixture into greased mini-muffin tins. (It makes a ton of mini muffins, but you could make regular muffins or even a cake if you wanted. You just have to adjust the baking times.)Bake for eight minutes or until they are puffed and just barely golden on top. Wait for them to cool completely before frosting.

To prepare frosting, beat together cream cheese and butter. Mix in the confectioners' sugar by hand (unless you want it all over your kitchen), and once it is mostly incorporated, turn the beater back on until it's a light texture, maybe 3-5 minutes. Right when you think it's ready, add the vanilla extract.

I used a Wilton cake decorator to make pretty blobs of frosting on top of the cooled cakes. I followed this template for the cupcake flags, found via How About Orange.

Day 2: Buttery Garlic Cheese Biscuits

You may recognize this recipe from a chain seafood restaurant.

Biscuits:
4 cu. Bisquick
6 oz. Cheddar cheese, shredded (I like sharp Cheddar)
1-1/3 cu. water

1 t. garlic powder

1/4 t. onion powder

1/4 t. dried parsley

1/8 t. Old Bay Seasoning (check the spice section or the seafood section of your grocery store)
... Plus a little flour.

Butter mixture:
1/2 cu. melted butter
2 t. garlic powder
1/4 t. salt
1/2 t. onion powder
1/4 t. dried parsley

1/4 t. Old Bay Seasoning

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.
Combine the baking mix, cheese, water and spices. Mix until dough is firm but sticky.

On a lightly floured surface (I use a cutting board), spread dough out to about 1/2-inch thickness. Flour the top of the dough a little bit too.

Use a biscuit cutter (I use the end of a champagne flute) to cut out rounds of dough. Bake for 8 to 12 minutes, until golden brown.
Combine the melted butter and spices/herbs. Brush over baked biscuits immediately upon removing from oven.

I served them with brown sugar baked ham, horseradish mayo (prepared horseradish + mayo) and Dijon mustard for mini sandwiches (I was into "mini" that week, it appears).

Day 3: Toffee Nut Brownie Bites AND Sopapilla Cheesecake Bars

Toffee Nut Brownie Bites

These really could not be easier (Thanks, Virginia and Destiny, for the recipe!). I won't even bother typing it out in recipe format, because it's just this simple.

Take a box of plain brownie mix. No fancy stuff. I used Duncan Hines original mix. Prepare according to package directions. Pour half of the batter into pan lined inside with aluminum foil (size and preparation whatever is prescribed by the box). Layer toffee and almond Symphony bars over the top of that layer. Pour the rest of the batter over the top, covering the bars. Bake according to package directions. When COMPLETELY cooled (you really have to wait or the Symphony layer gets messy), pop the aluminum foil out of the pan, brownies and all. On a flat surface, cut into squares or tiny rounds (again, I used a champagne flute and froze the leftover scraps for a future ice cream recipe).

Sopapilla Cheesecake Bars

Technically I didn't use a mix, but I did use a prepared item, Pillsbury Crescent Rolls. So deliciously bad for you. I think these would be delicious with a layer of fruit... fresh strawberries or blueberry preserves. Mmm.

2 8 oz. cans Crescent Rolls
2 8 oz. packages cream cheese
1 cu. white sugar

1 t. cinnamon
1 t. vanilla extract
1/2 cu. butter, melted
1/4 cu. sugar
1 t. cinnamon

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Grease a 9x13 in. pan.
Press one can of the crescent rolls into the bottom of the prepared pan.

In a medium bowl, mix together the cream cheese, 1 cup of sugar, cinnamon and vanilla until smooth and creamy. Spread over the crescent layer.

Unroll the second can of crescent rolls and lay them on top of the cream cheese layer.

Pour the melted butter over the entire pan. Combine the remaining 1/4 cup of sugar and cinnamon and sprinkle over the top.
Bake for 25 to 30 minutes in the preheated oven, or until the top is crisp and golden.

Cool on a counter, then chill overnight.

Cut into triangles (first cut into squares, then cut those diagonally).

Look for more bloggy updates from me soon. I'm resolving in my new routine to build in healthy habits, like exercising, reading regularly and BLOGGING. I have lots of ideas for posts, so stick with me. :)

I think we should get back together.

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder…

Is it true? After two months of a Wholly Surrendered blog famine, have you missed me?

Don’t worry, I’m still around and kickin’. I’m not sure what to blame the lag on: school assignments, work chaos, or laziness. Anyway. I’ve just been so distracted. But I hope you'll take me back. I've been doing a lot of thinking and, well... there may still be a spark between us.

Whatdya say, give me another chance?

Thanks to those of you who are still following me. Don’t lose hope! I know I have lost at least one follower, but I guarantee I will be back to my blogging self soon.

You know, really… I think I can blame the anti-blogness on not really feeling like myself. I know I’ve blogged before about that, but even though I absolutely am LOVING my schooling, I still don’t feel like I have found my outlet. I’m searching… God is great and He knows me. He understands my complicated heart even when I don’t.

I receive a free Bible email every day, and I have gotten in the nasty habit of “Marking as Read” when I see her in the old Gmail inbox. I have struggled through feeling distant from the Lord, and with the help of some dear friends, I’m getting back on track and reading. Many of us likely know these verses, excerpted from today’s email… What words to live by:

“But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith. I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead.”

Philippians 3:7-11

Word.

Thanks for sticking with this complacent blogger! I’ll try to be more consistent about updating. And I realize this wasn’t much of an update. So I’ll bring you fairly up to speed with some photos from recent weeks (since early April).

Celebrating with my priceless friend Caroline at her bachelorette! She’ll marry her love Todd on June 6.

This was formerly Brad’s junk room. After 1.5 years of trying desperately to ignore the mess in that room while keeping the rest of my home clean (the Gaultneys have different definitions of what “tidy” and “clean” mean), I went Medieval on it and cleaned it like the bizness. I’ll wait for the “after” pictures till next month, when I plan to paint it. I'm thinking cool gray, with white and yellow (and fuschia?) punches.

Our kindred, dearest friends, the Gahms – AKA The Wanderlusters. We visited them in Breckenridge as they travel across the globe for one year. (Steph, I owe you pictures. I'll do a FB album soon now that I've found my camera cord and can post!)

Then some more dearest friends got ENGAGED! Here’s a photo of them about a week before Zach popped the question to Abby. We celebrated her birthday Cajun-style with a crawfish dinner.

My older brother Matt got MARRIED! Somehow I was so caught up with emotion that I didn’t take photos of the blessed event, but here’s a snapshot of me and my mama. Isn’t she gorge?



Here’s a picture of me and Brad from a recent trip to New York City. Times Square! Thanks to those who made recommendations on what to do and see, especially Erin!

To the Lady in NorthPark Whose Whimsical Outfit Made Me Happy

Based on a True Story

Like a jellyfish billowing near the top of the blue water, with light finding its way through diaphanous folds, your skirt flounced in slow motion, a beat behind each purposeful step. You walked like a Parisienne parading a Standard Poodle through Les Tuileries – or even like the poodle herself – each footstep abrupt but delicate; intentional.

From the buttery leather of your brown booties to the grandmotherly chignon that betrayed your Carrie Bradshaw-like aesthetic, you were on a mission.

Perhaps you had just come from a consultation at Barney’s where you were commissioned to create some new artwork, a thankless backdrop for unreasonably expensive designer garments. The clipboard tucked tightly under your left arm may have itself clung to your sketches, lines on paper destined to become your next forgotten oeuvre.

You didn’t even carry a purse.

A man with tattooed fingers held a heavy glass door open, and you were off. You likely slid into a stuffy Mercedes or Lexus SUV and set off to pick up your stepchildren from private school, but I’d like to believe you sped away on a Capri Blue Vespa, skirt be damned, bound for your studio where yards of empty canvas await fat tubes of unctuous gesso and pigment.

Honest to Goodness

My wonderful and much lauded cousin Martha nominated me for the Honest Scrap blogger award! Read her list here. I don’t have her gift for brevity, so please bear with me on this long post as I list for you “10 honest things about me that you possibly do not know.” And make sure you read to the end, because I may have nominated YOU for the same task!

1. I am a wannabe vegan radical. For some reason I fancy myself a total earth mother, who makes frosting with arrowroot powder and agave nectar and coconut milk instead of butter and sugar (like this blogger does), advocates fair trade and lives super sustainably by making my own clothes and recycling my toilet water and maintaining a compost pile. But alas, I’m just not. Texas de Brazil is my idea of a special occasion dinner, and that’s as un-green and anti-vegan as it gets. I do want to live in a teeny tiny energy-efficient home, and to really serve others in my community. I just ordered a book on Amazon called Irresistible Revolution, and I think it’s going to help me figure out how I can live like a radical in my everyday Jesus-loving life. I’m pumped.
2. I was an overachiever in high school. I was vice president of student council, president of the National Honor Society, a National Merit Scholar Finalist, member of Thespian Society, member of Quill and Scroll, Varsity cheerleader (I quit before my junior year), yearbook editor, newspaper editor, even a member of the vocabulary club! And I’m sure I’m leaving stuff out.

A SACS Lion from age 5

While I don’t look back on those days wistfully (as in, “those were the days”), I do have good memories of high school. On the other hand, part of me wishes I had done less, because I kind of got burned out for college involvement. And on that note…

3. I love the University of Texas and will forever bleed burnt orange, but I don’t think I had an authentic college experience. I graduated early, and didn’t get involved in much except Communications Council (for one year), a student magazine and a free speech group. I also got involved with my church, but not until pretty late in the game. And I worked all through college, so that limited my ability to do a lot. However, God allowed me to have an amazing friend-for-life roommate in college, so I’m grateful for that. I graduated with highest honors, but I regret not taking full advantage of those rare years of being an undergrad.

Me and some of my favorite Longhorns :-)

These next few kind of go together…

4. I sometimes wonder what life would be like if I were still single. Don’t misunderstand me – I’m so GLAD to go through life with Brad, and I don’t regret marrying him for a second. I want to be really clear about that. I thank God every day for him, and for orchestrating everything about our meeting, dating, engagement and marriage the way He did. One of my top goals in life is to be an amazing wife to Bradford. My point is, I always thought I’d be at least 30 before I got married, but I met the man of my dreams at age 20! Just for the sake of curiosity, I sometimes think about what life would be like if I were in Paris and working as a journalist, or living in North Africa and working as a Peace Corps volunteer. Truth is, I’d probably still be right where I am, doing exactly what I’m doing. But it’s funny.

"So happy togetherrrr..."

5. I want babies sooner than four years from now (but I’m going to wait). Brad and I adopted the “five year plan” when we got married. We want to travel the world and finish grad school before other obligations enter the picture. I’m totally committed to the five year plan, but I have a twinkle in my eye for my babies. I can’t wait to meet them someday (Oct. 2012! Ha!).

6. I think Jesus is going to come back before I have kids. Maybe it’s the Christian school influence, but I have ALWAYS thought the second coming of Christ would happen before the next big milestone. I remember being in first grade, and Mrs. McGann told my class that in third grade we get to take achievement tests. I remember thinking “Third grade?! That’s so far away! Jesus will definitely come back before then.” We also lived near the airport growing up, and any time I heard the roar of a plane taking off, I thought it was the rapture. I thought Jesus would come back before I got married, and now I think Jesus will come back before I have kids.

7. Sometimes I want to move back to San Antonio. As much as I’d like to think I’ve got my stuff together up here in Dallas, visits to San Antonio and Boerne make me remember how much I miss my friends and family. It will probably get worse once baby Gaultneys enter the picture, but I know the Lord has us here for a reason, and we have commitments in Dallas that will keep us here for several more years. I really do love Dallas, and I’ve made amazing friends here… I just wish it weren’t a five-hour drive to “home.”

A dreamy picture of SA's Riverwalk, which I have visited probably three times in my life.

8. I have a long memory, sometimes to a fault. The good news is, I will NEVER forget your birthday. If you ask me to pray for something, I will NOT forget to lift you up. However, it also means I know which of Brad’s Corps buddies came to our wedding and didn’t give us a gift. And it means if you ever gave me a backwards compliment, I made a mental note. I hate that about me. Oh well.

9. I’m jealous of blondes. Gah, who knows why this is? Some of my very dearest friends are blonde (Sharkie, Dubey-Lew, Meago, Meggo, just to name a few), and I don’t have any problems with them at all, but other than that, I have this weird jealousy of blondes. Maybe it’s because there really is some buy-in to the “blondes have more fun,” adage, especially in Texas. But I’ve made it clear to Brad that he is not allowed to think blondes are pretty. I understand him saying that Anne Hathaway is attractive, because good night, I even think she’s a sex monster. But Kate Hudson? Carrie Underwood? That girl who dances on the table in the Bacardi Mojito commercial? NO. Not allowed.

Screen shot of the infamous Bacardi Mojito commercial

10. I’m actually really shy. That surprises some people. But yes, I’m a definite introvert, and most of the time I’d rather read a book or watch Bravo TV at home than go to a party.

So now I would like to take a moment to pass the torch to some of my fellow bloggers (including a blonde): Abby, Meagan and Stephanie. I’m tagging you because I love you and can’t wait to see the 10 things you’ll write about. :-) Now get bloggin’!

Restlessness (Warning: Long Post)

I’ve had this unsettled feeling in my heart now for several months. Like I want to move to Seattle, or maybe just Dallas’ Bishop Arts District; or go to grad school (more on that later); or start discipling middle school girls; or dye my hair fuchsia. Or buy a 9 mm and take concealed-carry classes (Oh wait, I’m already doing that. No seriously, I am.). Or maybe come home one day with my body all painted in henna paint à la Indian weddings.


So I think about all of these things but I still have this RESTLESS spirit, so much so that when I think about it my heart literally hurts. Like an aching for someone or something that I can’t identify. Like I'm grieving for something, really. It's not a depression, just a sense of loss over something I don't even understand. Talk about a state of confusion.

So I’ve prayed. Praying without knowing what you're asking for is hard, and even harder when you think you’re not hearing anything back. I have felt like the woman in Song of Solomon who searches for her lover but can’t find him.

I opened for my lover, but my lover had left; he was gone. My heart sank at his departure. I looked for him but did not find him. I called him but he did not answer. (SoS 5:6)

And it occurred to me… I’m not serving. I feel most alive in Christ when I’m serving him, and my top spiritual gifts are service and pastor/ shepherding. Maybe my lack of service is what’s causing this weird friction in my spirit. But what to do with this knowledge?

I sought godly counsel from an awesome, life-loving, astoundingly wise friend, who by the grace of God is also family. We’ll call her “Martha.” So Martha, irreverent as she may be, sat down with me over yummy, thin crust, European-style pizza yesterday in Southlake, and we cussed (a little :-), laughed about smoking on the sly, talked about motherhood (her) and future motherhood (me), and generally just had a mini heart-to-heart. Then I came out with it. “Martha,” I said. “What’s going on with me?” I gave her the back story, and she was blunt, as I hoped she would be (I’m paraphrasing):

“Hello? Did you ever think that this restlessness could be the way God is speaking to you, that he's trying to tell you to act on those sneaking suspicions?”

O-M-Goodness. No. Really, no. How could I not have realized that I wasn't just feeling crazy for the sake of crazy... He may be making me feel that way because I'm still not acting on his promptings. I didn’t consider that the Lord was trying to get my attention or affirm the longings of my heart by this aching feeling. But that makes SO much sense. ::: slaps forehead ::: Doh.

She had a lot more truth to speak to me, and I’m not giving her enough credit for her invaluable counseling abilities and insight, but I left feeling really validated – not only validated, but justified – over some of the nutty ideas that have been swirling. My heart and my head are still having a cage match with each other, and I have a lot of thinking to do, but today I really do feel a little bit better. I need to be in the Word for a while, and let some things marinate, but I think I can tell you more later.

I’m deeply grateful for Martha.

And for Brad, who encouraged me to apply for grad school, which I’ll be starting Jan. 22! It’s a professional program (code language for “I’m not quitting my job to go to school, don’t worry”), and I expect to go two nights a week. It’s funny how God works… in the middle of this season of spiritual frustration, I had to register for classes. I’m in a Master of Liberal Studies program, which will allow me to focus on art, French and writing (or as I call them, The Holy Trinity of Katie). But for this first semester, I wanted to have the same schedule as Brad so that we can carpool and spend an extra hour together a day during a time when we otherwise might not see each other a lot.

Well, I had to take a couple of required courses for my first semester, and the only other class that fit with the schedule wasn’t anything that fell into the aforementioned Trinity; it was a theology class.

Theology? Okay. I love Jesus, but theology is really Brad’s thing. I like Beth Moore and Max Lucado and John Piper… but theology?! But I clicked “register” and I’m in. And I have to wonder if God isn’t planning on teaching me something really significant through this course, which is called “The Spiritual Vision of Jesus.”

Think service might be a part of that vision?

Being Intentional

Time for that meaty post about my weekend and my friends I've been promising... Apologies in advance if it ventures into sappy territory. What can I say, my friends make me want to turn all gooey and just hug someone. :-)

I mentioned my list of life goals in an earlier post. On the list I wrote “Be an intentional friend.” Not a friend who calls when just when she’s bored; not a friend who forgets birthdays and apologizes later. I’m aiming to cultivate the type of meaningful friendships that really love unselfishly, celebrate each others’ good and call each other out on the bad, and go through life together.

During my first several months of marriage, I lived up to that statement by being very intentional in the time that I spend with and the affection I show to my best friend, Brad. But lately I’m learning the balance of doing both: making my husband a priority, but showing my good girlfriends that I cherish them.

Last weekend, I was blessed to spend quality time with three sweet friends in three different cities.

My kindred, Stephanie, and I took a cooking class at Sur La Table in Houston. So chic, so fun. I love this girl’s life: she’s a very hip, bohemian travel-loving designer, and for the first time I got to see her way cool digs that reflect her style. We made French food (we’re both gaga for all-things-French, as is our partner-in-crime, Abby) at our cooking class and stayed up late drinking wine, nibbling on imported “biscuits” and sharing our hearts. The next day my sweet friend treated me to breakfast – the most refined biscuits and gravy I’ve EVER had – and then we browsed the funky shops in Rice Village.

Here are some photos of our time together:

That afternoon, I was honored to get to celebrate my dear friend Jessica and her upcoming marriage at a bridal shower. What a joy to meet “her people” in the area where she grew up, Buffalo, Texas. The shower made me even more pumped for her wedding on October 25, where I’ll be a bridesmaid along with two other great friends, Holli and Caroline. (Sidebar: How cool is it that Jessica and I will forever celebrate our anniversaries just two days apart?!)

Here’s a photo of Jessica and her equally precious fiancé, Clay:

After leaving the shower in Buffalo, I continued up I-45 and turned on I-30 to go to Marita Cattle Ranch in Mount Vernon. Some very cool recently married friends of ours, Jed and Jen Melson, invited us to a ranch weekend with them and two other couples. They have an amazing place on 500 acres of East Texas land, with peacocks, cattle, fishing and the whole bit. The menfolk dove-hunted while we women cooked. :-) Brad and I were blown away by the Melsons’ hospitality and warmth!

Here’s a photo of Jed and Jen shortly after their engagement last October. Jed popped the question at the ranch:

I’m just sitting here reflecting on how blessed I really am to have true, lasting friendships with such remarkable people. What a weekend!

Bloom Where You’re Planted

In my constant search for new forms of creative expression, I took up gardening last spring.

(NB: I refuse to admit that “gardening” means I’m becoming domesticated. I’m not a Lands End-wearing, Tupperware-collecting Stepford wife… I’m just a nutty gal who dabbles.)

Anyway, I was interested to see if I had a green thumb. My roommate Meagan and I had a corn plant in college. We named him Cornelius. He died over Christmas break when I left him out on the balcony and he turned into a gelatinous blob of gray goop after a freeze. All of this to say, my hopes weren’t high that I would be the next blue-ribbon rose grower.

Nevertheless, I carefully planned my garden, did my research on Texas hardy perennials (NOT annuals… I refuse to start from scratch every year!), and planted everything following the directions exactly. I opted to go with purples, pinks and blues. I had to deal with a nasty little yellow lantana plant that was already there when I started. It was the only flowering plant existing at the house when we bought it.

Anyway, my garden was pretty awesome for a few months, and I was encouraged. I planted a lot from seed and I was eager to see my photosynthetic babies pop up over the soil. I also planted sunflowers along all of the fences in our backyard, but they met a sad fate at the sharp blades of Brad’s lawnmower… there were tears (mine).

BUT THEN. Despite all my care and keeping. The lantana plant grew to have tendrils SIX FEET LONG, and it covered up and choked out all of my plants, except a purple sage, a hymenocallis Brad gave me (this bulb could withstand ANYTHING) and my basil. I was SO MAD.

So two weekends ago I went out and cut the Lantana to the ground. I filled two trash bags with the carcasses, then sprayed Round Up all over the open wounds. That plant WILL die.

(NB: In my research to find the best way to kill this diabolical plant, beloved for its heat-hardiness and appearing in landscapes all over Texas, I discovered that lantana is considered a noxious weed in many parts of the world. You can be fined thousands of dollars for growing it in Australia! It’s harmful to the ecology.)

I mentioned that the purple sage, bulb and basil escaped the evil clutches of the lantana. I neglected to write that there was also a super tall plant that sprung up in my garden and resembled bamboo because of its thick, straight stalk – but it had these funny, frizzy leaves. I thought it was probably a strange weed, but I didn’t pull it because I was intrigued by its height.

I walked out this morning and it had BLOOMED over the weekend! I had no idea this was a flowering plant! Look at its amazing pinky-purple daisy blooms!

I'm including a photo of it next to Brad's ginormous truck too, so that you can have an idea of its unusual height. So tall!


The only thing I can think of as far as its origin is that I had a packet of wildflower seeds I bought in Ireland a couple of years ago and scattered them early this spring. This has to be the lone remnant from the packet.

It may sound cheesy, but that this sweet, vibrant daisy survived the hardship the lantana brought it reminded me of God’s goodness and grace in the midst of adversity. We really have the ability to thrive in difficulty because of the hope we have in Christ Jesus and his ability to carry us through. My mom has always encouraged me to “bloom where I’m planted,” meaning that no matter what situation I’m plopped into, I have the choice to become the best “whatever” I can be, and bring glory to God.

What a precious reminder that little flower was to me today!

Jeremiah 17:7-8
Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord,
And whose hope is the Lord.
For he shall be like a tree planted by the waters,
Which spreads its roots by the river,
And will not fear when heat comes;
But its leaf will be green,
And will not be anxious in the year of drought,
Nor will cease from yielding fruit.

Good for the Soul

It's no secret that I hate exercise. I maintain a decent diet and eat lots of fruits and veggies, but I still tend to get really hung up on body image. If I feel bad about the way I look, it affects my entire attitude.

But my dear, sweet neighbor, Carol, is doing her part to help me change my attitude. Carol is an incredible woman. She is a former aerobics instructor and P.E. teacher, and she teaches swim lessons as much as 60 hours a week during the summer. She runs marathons, teaches a wellness class at church, mentors 10 women, takes continuing education at local colleges, volunteers at a nearby pregnancy care center… and much more. She and her wonderful husband Don introduced us to our church, Lake Pointe, by bringing over a care package of chips and salsa and some church brochures shortly after we moved in. They have blessed our lives so richly in just the short time that we’ve known them.

Carol is an overflowing fountain of energy, and when I mentioned to her that I was looking for a way to get in shape and relax, she invited me to a yoga class she heard about through her granddaughter’s dance studio. Well, it wasn’t just yoga. It was yoga fusion – a mix of fast-paced hip hop, aerobics, weights and cardio, all in a really hot room. The only “yoga” aspect is the last two minutes when we breathe deeply and say “Namaste!” It’s a great workout, and a really good jump start to my fitness routine.

Tonight yoga was canceled, so Carol asked if I’d like to go on a walk with her instead. I agreed, but I should have known that a “walk” by Carol’s definition is more like a jog in Katie’s world. We speed-walked around the neighborhood for 33 minutes and I felt like I ran a mile or two! (I try not to let on… Carol barely breaks a sweat!) Here’s a picture of me and my fitness-loving neighbor/friend at a ladies’ Christmas party at church last year:



It's hard to argue that exercise is good for the body and the mind. And when you’re like me and struggle with a negative body image, it’s good for the soul. Most of us who have grown up in the church know this verse, and it really rings true:

“Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your body.” (1 Cor. 6:19-20)

I want to arrive at a place where my goal is to honor God with my body. I’m on my way there, but I’m not there yet. I’d still like to have a body like… Evangeline Lilly or Rachel McAdams or January Jones!

I had dinner with some good, Jesus-loving girlfriends last night and we ended up talking about our insecurities. One of my friends recommended this book, Wanting to Be Her: Body Image Secrets Victoria Won’t Tell You. I came home and immediately one-clicked it on Amazon! It should be here before the weekend. I look forward to reading it.

Lord, I’m yours. Help me to truly honor You with my life, including in the way I take care of and view my body!

Distractions and Creativity

We’re near the end of summer, and I find myself taking stock of my life and my day-to-day. Fall is undoubtedly my favorite time of year – and summer my least favorite. I’m happy to be moving on to a happier season.

Through my seasonal self-assessment, I have realized that in my “settling down,” I’ve become a little lazy. I’ve never liked to exercise. And I’ve always loved TV (I’m one of the few people I know who will admit that I really do love TV). Law and Order, anything on Food Network, Project Runway, news, House Hunters… I can usually find something on the tube that I don’t mind vegging out to.

But I’m starting to think it’s gone a little too far.

I wrote in my journal four years ago a list of life goals. The list goes on and on, with plenty of dos and don’ts to last several pages – some trivial and some profound. One of the items on the list was this:

Never lose the art of conversation. Don’t spend your married nights in front of the TV.

Sadly, I think I’m headed that direction. Brad doesn’t really enjoy sitting still, especially to watch television. But he does like spending time with me. So after a crazy day, I’ll arrive home and my head will be spinning, and all I want to do is make a quick dinner, eat it in front of the TV, watch a few shows and go to sleep. And Brad, being a sweet husband, will sit with me while I do nothing.

Anyway, I’m trying an experiment. For the past couple of weeks, after a hectic and/or frustrating day (and there have been several of those lately), I come home, eat dinner with my husband at the dinner table – TV off – and then do something productive. I may do some housework, do something artistic, read a magazine or a book, pull weeds in the backyard, ride the stationary bike (ugh!), talk to a friend on the phone…

This is a good exercise for me. Brad started his MBA program this past Thursday, so I ought to be spending a little more time alone as he goes to class and study groups.

I painted a watercolor of a eucalyptus tree line the other night. It came out all right, but it was missing something. So I stuck it in the oven and baked it:



Ha! I discovered this technique after my last move. I had painted a little watercolor of a Tuscan villa, and I really liked it. But I didn’t take great care of it. In my haste to pack everything up, somehow this little watercolor got stuck to the back of a baking sheet. I didn’t know what had happened until I was baking cookies one night and smelled something smoky… Sure enough, I had baked my little landscape!

It yields some interesting lighting effects. Stay tuned for more “baked art.” And I’ll let you know if I come up with anything interesting in my quest for productivity and creativity.

Dipping the Big Toe

I’ve decided to give it another try. I’m not prepared to guarantee a high dive, cannonball, or even a belly flop, for that matter… but I am going to dip my feet in the water once again. Yes, I’m going to resume the blog.

I have to admit, I should credit much of my little foray to the good-natured “prodding” of many of my former faithful readers (Meagan and Abby, to name a couple), who hold the fact that they’ve linked their blogs to mine as leverage over me.

By most accounts, I don’t have a lot of exciting material to blog about right now. No extended trips to Paris in my future, like the adventure I chronicled in my first blog. I’ve been married for just shy of a year now, so no wedding planning to kvetch and kvell over. I bought my first house well over a year ago now, and I can firmly state that there are NO plans for babies in my future. When so little is “happening,” what is there to write about?

In fact, I have plenty of anxiety, enthusiasm, and just plain curiosity over where I am in life now. I can’t really put my finger on it, other than to say that I’m going through a sort of frenzied respite… A sort of “sitting down on the inside,” a state of coming to peace with who my Creator has made me – not for the sake of others’ approval, not even for my own satisfaction… just being “me” because God designed me. I’m not after the award for funkiest bohemian, most Stepford-esque newlywed, or any other mantle I may have consciously or unconsciously sought not long ago. I’m just getting used to really being.

Change is a constant theme in my postings, and indeed, so much has changed over the past 18 months. I don’t have to tell you all the ways my life looks different now than it did just a year and a half ago. God is good, so good. And he’s enriched my life extravagantly. I’m truly on the verge of contentment… strange.

But that doesn’t mean I’ve learned how to sit still, or that my postings from now on are going to be treatises on “boring.” I’m just figuring out this whole adulthood thing, and that, to me, is an adventure.

• I still daydream about what the future holds.
• I still have a persistent case of wanderlust. I want to live in France, Morocco, Costa Rica, Seattle…
• I want to write children’s books and create something every day (a painting, a tray of cupcakes, a blog post).
• I want to truly love my husband selflessly and become a woman who honors God with her body and her life, and inspires others to godliness.
  

I’ve got a long way to go, and I hope through this blog you’ll help me chart my progress. Thanks for reading. Here we go again.