Today I...
...cleaned my room.
...did ten pages of fractions for review.
...scheduled a planning appointment.
...dried the dishes.
...swept and mopped the kitchen floor.
...put away groceries.
...unloaded the dishwasher.
...cleaned the bathroom.
...broke up two fights.
...cleaned the living room
and
...wrote a book review.
And then I was bored for the rest of the morning.
;)
Hugs & Blessings,
Izori
Friday, July 29, 2011
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Running Journey
Picture a grumpy, groggy thirteen year old running in the bleak winter suburbs in freezing weather at 6:00 in the morning. She dragged herself out of her cozy bed to force her body into repetitive drudgery because she felt overweight and lazy. To her, running was something you did when you had done something wrong--like eating too many cookies. Running was a punishment, a boring and unenjoyable chore.
Yep. So that was how I first entered the world of running.
I really, really, really hated it.
Maybe it was because I remembered how effortless maintaining my weight and fitness had been. The time when I could sprint a 5-K and eat dessert without gaining an ounce was still fairly recent when I first started running. Suddenly, I foresaw a life of counting every calorie, working out at the gym every day, and worrying about what would happen if I ate a cookie.
Now picture a fifteen year old, laughing her head off with her brother, pounding down a rocky path and thoroughly enjoying herself. The sky's above her, flowers and grass are below her, and the creek she's grown up swimming in is beside her. Her goal is to run that whole path. She completes it.
That was today.
What happened? What changed? I really don't have a clue. Maybe it's because I happened to grow up between the ages of thirteen and fifteen. I think I realized that you can still be an awesome person and not be model skinny. Anyway, running is definitely not a burdensome chore anymore.
Now, running's a privilege.
Hugs & Blessings,
Izori
Yep. So that was how I first entered the world of running.
I really, really, really hated it.
Maybe it was because I remembered how effortless maintaining my weight and fitness had been. The time when I could sprint a 5-K and eat dessert without gaining an ounce was still fairly recent when I first started running. Suddenly, I foresaw a life of counting every calorie, working out at the gym every day, and worrying about what would happen if I ate a cookie.
Now picture a fifteen year old, laughing her head off with her brother, pounding down a rocky path and thoroughly enjoying herself. The sky's above her, flowers and grass are below her, and the creek she's grown up swimming in is beside her. Her goal is to run that whole path. She completes it.
That was today.
What happened? What changed? I really don't have a clue. Maybe it's because I happened to grow up between the ages of thirteen and fifteen. I think I realized that you can still be an awesome person and not be model skinny. Anyway, running is definitely not a burdensome chore anymore.
Now, running's a privilege.
Hugs & Blessings,
Izori
Friday, July 22, 2011
Muy Caliente
When we were driving this afternoon in the car [in the car? Really? I thought it was in a space ship?], I happen to glance up at our thermostat. You'll never guess what it read.
107 degrees F
*insert jaw-drop*
Suffice it to say that the weather is code-red here. I was supposed to shoot muzzle-loaders tonight, but who wants to stand in a field with the sun blazing down upon you in code-red weather? Not I, that's for sure.
Ugh. I feel like I am melting.
Hugs & Blessings,
Izori
107 degrees F
*insert jaw-drop*
Suffice it to say that the weather is code-red here. I was supposed to shoot muzzle-loaders tonight, but who wants to stand in a field with the sun blazing down upon you in code-red weather? Not I, that's for sure.
Ugh. I feel like I am melting.
Hugs & Blessings,
Izori
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Rare Deep Post
It's really weird thinking of how much I changed over 15 years. I see old baby photos, and the only thing that's really stayed the same is my eye color. When I was rummaging through a box hidden away in my closet, I came across a bunch of old things I had forgotten about. An old blanket, a photo album...even my hospital wrist-band from when I was born. What's more, it's a bit creepy thinking that I'm halfway to thirty years old.
And I'm also looking forward and realizing how much freedom I'll have when I'm grown up. Maybe I'll buy a sailboat and spend a couple years just sailing around the coast. And I've always wanted to hike the Appalachian Trail with Peter.
Now, I'm at the time of my life that defines who I'll be when I'm an adult. Now's the time to act if I want to be a professional soccer player, or a musician, or a writer, or really anything. It's at these defining moments when one finds oneself with the most unanswered questions...
...like, "God, what on earth do you want me to do with myself? What's my calling?" or "Do I really feel like I'm on the right path? Did I make a wrong turn?" or "What am I turning myself into?" or "Who do people see me as? What do I mean to people around me?"
Sometimes the thing I want to do most is write. Other times I have this incredible urge to be an adventurer. Then, of course, I've always just wanted to have a quiet life tucked away in the country and spend my days baking pies and growing peaches. Or maybe I'd live in a city somewhere.
We just visited Tangier Island, a remote little island-town off the coast. It's quaint, lonely, gorgeous, and isolated, and I really considered living there when I grow up. But then again, it didn't feel as if it belonged. There weren't any real trees, and I love a place with trees that really belong there. Not just transplanted little scrawny things that you find in just-developed subdivisions.
And then we also saw Charleston. If you've ever been to downtown Charleston, you know how picturesque it is. It's so...I don't know...Southern, I guess, with all the palmettos and fried chicken and shrimp and grits. While we were there, I absolutely fell in love with it. But it's so hot and muggy that I really don't think I'd like to live there.
And of course there's Boston and Cape Cod...I would really enjoy staying there. Cranberry bogs, the ocean, all that history, nice summers...but I'd really miss the South.
I guess after rambling about all those different places that I really like home best. Hey, there's no place like home.
Okay, looking over this post I realized how much this strayed. This was more like uncollected thoughts that I happened to catch. Thanks for reading!
Hugs & Blessings,
Izori
And I'm also looking forward and realizing how much freedom I'll have when I'm grown up. Maybe I'll buy a sailboat and spend a couple years just sailing around the coast. And I've always wanted to hike the Appalachian Trail with Peter.
Now, I'm at the time of my life that defines who I'll be when I'm an adult. Now's the time to act if I want to be a professional soccer player, or a musician, or a writer, or really anything. It's at these defining moments when one finds oneself with the most unanswered questions...
...like, "God, what on earth do you want me to do with myself? What's my calling?" or "Do I really feel like I'm on the right path? Did I make a wrong turn?" or "What am I turning myself into?" or "Who do people see me as? What do I mean to people around me?"
Sometimes the thing I want to do most is write. Other times I have this incredible urge to be an adventurer. Then, of course, I've always just wanted to have a quiet life tucked away in the country and spend my days baking pies and growing peaches. Or maybe I'd live in a city somewhere.
We just visited Tangier Island, a remote little island-town off the coast. It's quaint, lonely, gorgeous, and isolated, and I really considered living there when I grow up. But then again, it didn't feel as if it belonged. There weren't any real trees, and I love a place with trees that really belong there. Not just transplanted little scrawny things that you find in just-developed subdivisions.
And then we also saw Charleston. If you've ever been to downtown Charleston, you know how picturesque it is. It's so...I don't know...Southern, I guess, with all the palmettos and fried chicken and shrimp and grits. While we were there, I absolutely fell in love with it. But it's so hot and muggy that I really don't think I'd like to live there.
And of course there's Boston and Cape Cod...I would really enjoy staying there. Cranberry bogs, the ocean, all that history, nice summers...but I'd really miss the South.
I guess after rambling about all those different places that I really like home best. Hey, there's no place like home.
Okay, looking over this post I realized how much this strayed. This was more like uncollected thoughts that I happened to catch. Thanks for reading!
Hugs & Blessings,
Izori
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Boredom is the Mother of Invention
To say I'm bored is probably an over-statement. To say that I have a lot more free time than I'm used to is pretty accurate, however. Needless to say, my soaring ambitions of working through a huge list of literature and finishing writing several books have been realized to be...quite insane. My summer now consists of roaming around from project to project in happy bliss. Was that redundant?
It's amazing what you can do with common household items.
Project #1--Tying white buttons onto a red thread to create a very pretty but useless string of buttons. White buttons. I found a plethora of white buttons just lying on the ground and my creative instinct immediately jumped on them. My hoarding instinct immediately forced me to begin picking them up. Once I had got them, I had no clue what to do with them. And one afternoon last week, when I found myself with nothing to do, I began to string them onto a red thread. I'm still figuring out what to do with it.
Project #2--Creating a trash can dedicated to used tissues. Being the eternal optimist, I took advantage of my recent cold to make something creative. I have an empty tissue box and several cough drop wrappers, and I am planning to combine the two to come up with a...well, a tissue box decorated with cough drop wrappers. (if you're looking at me oddly, you're having the same reaction as my mom did). But really! It's perfect for me, because I'm always throwing used tissues on my bedroom floor. Having a trash can (a decorated trash can) just for used tissues would really be helpful.
Project #3--Re-attaching a head to an otherwise lovely rocking-horse. Right now, the headless rocking horse is in my closet. She's this amazing light green, with (hand painted, I believe) roses all over her. Her name is Rosie, obviously. Now that all of us kids have moved past the rocking horse stage, I'm going to put her head back on her and sell her on e-bay for money. =) No, for chocolate.
Yum. Chocolate.
Hugs & Blessings,
Izori
It's amazing what you can do with common household items.
Project #1--Tying white buttons onto a red thread to create a very pretty but useless string of buttons. White buttons. I found a plethora of white buttons just lying on the ground and my creative instinct immediately jumped on them. My hoarding instinct immediately forced me to begin picking them up. Once I had got them, I had no clue what to do with them. And one afternoon last week, when I found myself with nothing to do, I began to string them onto a red thread. I'm still figuring out what to do with it.
Project #2--Creating a trash can dedicated to used tissues. Being the eternal optimist, I took advantage of my recent cold to make something creative. I have an empty tissue box and several cough drop wrappers, and I am planning to combine the two to come up with a...well, a tissue box decorated with cough drop wrappers. (if you're looking at me oddly, you're having the same reaction as my mom did). But really! It's perfect for me, because I'm always throwing used tissues on my bedroom floor. Having a trash can (a decorated trash can) just for used tissues would really be helpful.
Project #3--Re-attaching a head to an otherwise lovely rocking-horse. Right now, the headless rocking horse is in my closet. She's this amazing light green, with (hand painted, I believe) roses all over her. Her name is Rosie, obviously. Now that all of us kids have moved past the rocking horse stage, I'm going to put her head back on her and sell her on e-bay for money. =) No, for chocolate.
Yum. Chocolate.
Hugs & Blessings,
Izori
Sunday, July 10, 2011
I Sound Dreadful
( a wildflower from last summer)
I have a cold. A very nasty cold.
How can you be cold in the middle of July? Don't ask me! Ask my brother, who so graciously shared this contagious illness with me.
With me, whenever I get a cold I lose my voice. It did not help that I spent all afternoon yesterday instructing new archers, because that means I was saying something the whole entire time. (Things like: "Point the arrow the other way, please" and "You know, it works better if you hold the bow the other way").
So now I can barely speak, and when I do I sound completely awful.
On a lighter note, we went to a Nationals game today! It was so awesome actually seeing the players on the field instead of watching them on television (too bad Pudge Rodriguez didn't play today...he's my favorite player).
I'm sorry that this post was barely worth the clicking over. Nothing deep, profound, entertaining, or enlightening. But that's basically how my summer's been. Just a lot of relaxing until I hit my sophomore year.
Hugs & Blessings,
Izori
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Happy 4th of July!
Belated, of course. We were out of town, having our Family Olympics and Independence Day celebration with two grandparents, one uncle, one aunt, and three cousins. All together, that's seven kids in one house. Five of those are age six and under. It's just Peter and I who are the solitary mature, dignified, wise children.
So, how much does independence mean to us? In our cushioned lives, it's pretty easy to forget that freedom comes at a price. We tend to spend a lot of time grumbling at our politicians without taking time to be thankful that we have the right to speak up.
Three cheers for freedom, y'all!
Hugs & Blessings,
Izori
So, how much does independence mean to us? In our cushioned lives, it's pretty easy to forget that freedom comes at a price. We tend to spend a lot of time grumbling at our politicians without taking time to be thankful that we have the right to speak up.
Three cheers for freedom, y'all!
Hugs & Blessings,
Izori
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