{Goodbye, little punk.}

Guess what?

I'm getting my gallbladder removed in the mohnin.

Hallelujah!

Boom goes the dynamite.

{Thanks}

I'm thankful for a gallbladder that functions at the rate of a 90-year-old woman's...
Because without it, I would wake up each morning and take advantage of what it means to feel "good" inside.

{Source: bucolic beauty}

I'm thankful for mornings spent sleeping in huge X-ray machines and spending quality time with a  surgeon, spilling the beans on all the abnormal symptoms I experience as my gallbladder sends my body into uproar...
Because it means that I have been handed a huge gift.. insurance and doctors who care. To nurses everywhere, your kind words and offer for warm blankets are under appreciated in this world. Thank you.

{Source: bucolic beauty}

I'm thankful for a lease that expires two days after I am scheduled to have surgery in a city four hours away from where I will be posted in my bed, slurping Popsicles for a week...
Because it means spontaneous road trip with two of my favorite people in the world: my parents.

{untitled by Der_Kaiser on Flickr}

I'm thankful we cancelled the moving truck when we thought I would get an extension on my lease and then turns out, we didn't...
Because being responsible to box all my things humbled me to an awareness of what I truly need... and what it means to live in excess.

{via thinknorth}

I'm thankful for having no control over disgruntled landlords, limited time frames, and Dallas traffic...
Because the feeling of complete helplessness reminded me that I have never had full control. One who molded the earth between His thumbs has always held my world in place.

(Source: Flickr / jeffclow, via ofthisland)

I'm thankful for being cramped in the backseat of a pick-up truck for 15 hours...
Because my mother is nestled in the passenger seat and my father positioned at the wheel. I learned that real love means ultimate sacrifice at any cost to yourself for the betterment of someone else. No questions asked.

{Source: google}

I'm thankful for the sun to stretch high over the expanse of sky...
I use this afternoon to soak Vitamin D straight to my bones and get refreshed by the warm summer air.

I'm even thankful I missed a step, tripped, and landed straight in the pool.. iPhone in hand...
Having my phone in a bowl of rice this afternoon is a gentle yet firm reminder that life consists of more than photographs, reading blogs, and scavenging for fresh tweets; that reducing my conversation with the world to text messaging can sometimes make me a touch impersonal. I much prefer writing letters anyway, how did I forget?

Thankful for Poppy, who reminds me that mistakes will always be made, but they help us regain a fresh perspective and proper focus.

There are many opportunities to sow discontentment. Today, I choose to plant thanks.

How my eyes see, perspective, is my key to enter into His gates. I can only do so with thanksgiving. If my inner eye has God seeping up through all things, then can't I give thanks for anything? And if I can give thanks for the good things, the hard things, the absolute everything, I can enter the gates to glory. Living in His presence is fullness of joy- and seeing shows the way in.

-Ann Voskamp, One Thousand Gifts

{Coconut Honey Almond Drizzle Cakes}

When you make less than half the income your friends bring home,
And you are about to move to a new apartment in a week,
And you dig past the boxes of brown rice and gummy vitamins in your pantry shelves,
To find a few  leading lady ingredients,
You have a choice:
See it as nothing,
Or see it as opportunity for the best meal of your post-grad, poverty-level life.

Coconut Honey Almond Drizzle Cakes  

I love you, pancake.

1/4 c. shredded unsweetened coconut {You can find this at Central Market or any wholesale grocery store for cheap}
1/2 tsp. almond extract
1 1/4 c. almond milk
3 firm shakes of cinnamon {Be generous with this friend, always.} 
1 egg
2 tbsp. butter {or vegetable oil}
3/4 c. Bisquick Gluten Free Pancake Mix {Fact: I eat gluten free. You, my friend, are allowed to use a regular pancake mix if you prefer.} 
1/4 c. vanilla protein powder OR use 1  FULL c. pancake mix {from above} + 1/2 tsp. vanilla

Mix.
Pour about 1/4 c. for each pancake.
Flip.
Drizzle with honey.
Slice up fresh peaches. Or the fruit of your choosing.
Eat.
Savor.
Celebrate your life.
And your taste buds.
Embrace what it means to live on a dime.

Are you a gluten-free homie, too? If so, what is your go-to recipe?

{Letterpress}

Upside Down, Left To Right: A Letterpress Film from Danny Cooke on Vimeo.

Happy.

{Goals}

1. Downsize. What I have versus what I a) love, b) use, or c) need. {sigh}
2. {To piggyback} Learn to hold on loosely, let go willingly, give thanks always.
3. Manage a tight budget with wisdom.. and grace.
4. Say yes to adventure, no to fear.
5. Purchase one of these.
6. Spend money on the good coffee. {this is the grace part of my budget talking..}
7. Plant a garden.
8. Grocery shop local.
9. Spend more time with the ones I love.
10. Keep a 365 adventure journal. And fill every page.
11. Read more books, less tweets. {But I still love your tweets, I do..}
12. Spend more time in absolute quiet. 
13. Know a deeper prayer life.
14. Put a new stamp in my passport.

If you could do anything this year with no limitations, what would you accomplish?

{The terrible art}

The faint whisper of charcoals  gliding across paper with ease.
Sketches of tea cups coming to life with the weaving swirl handles belonging to Wonderland creations from the little people in my classroom.
A soundtrack of fast fiddles and angelic voices plays softly in the corner.
Everything works together.
Peace and productivity.

The sound of thin sheets of sketching paper crumpled into snowballs suddenly fills our small room.

"I messed up...aaagain, Miss Kelly.

I will never get this teacup right.

I make terrible art."

The small girl with the black night hair and the almond shaped eyes looks at me, expectant to begin on a clean sheet of paper. I swipe a clean sheet off the wooden shelf and slip into the chair next to her. I pick up a charcoal, black as her hair.

"Why do you think your artwork is so terrible?"

"Mine looks nothing like yours. See this swirl? I tried six times and all I have on my paper is a stupid swirl and a million eraser marks. This is not art." Arms cross her chest and she stares at me, defeated.

Think, think, think. What do I say?

I hear a still, small voice reply, "Daughter, what would I say to you?"

Exhale. I move the piece of hair from my eyes and tell her,

"There is no such thing as terrible artwork. This swirl right here? Now this.. this is art. Artwork comes in all shapes, all sizes, all colors. The artist is the one who opens her eyes and changes the way she sees. When we look at our art, we open our eyes and expect the beautiful to come pouring out. The artist is the one who can open her eyes and say, Wow I made the beautiful come to life.

Tell me, where can you find the beautiful in your art?"

She grips the edge of the table with soft fingers and peers intently into her artwork.

Eyebrows furrow.

"I see... so many colors. 

I see smudges I didn't even mean to make but oh, they made new colors!

Patterns.

Flowers with floppy petals. They look happy!

And the swirl... you know, Miss Kelly, it really is beautiful. It looks like something I did all by myself. I made it on my own."

"And that, sweet child, is making beautiful come to life."

An hour later.

Hurried hands are cleaning brushes, stacking watercolor palettes, setting damp paintings on wire drying racks.
Maternal voices fill the room. The moms are back. My little artists grab familiar hands and march out the door to the summer afternoon.

 I retreat to the sink to finish cleaning brushes when I hear little shuffling feet.
I turn and meet the girl with almond eyes.

"Miss Kelly, I forgot to tell you... thank you for teaching me that terrible artwork doesn't exist. Now I know that beautiful wanted me to open my eyes bigger to see it. And I did. Thank you."

And that is all the happy I need to remember I am right where God wants me to be.

{Tide Mill Farm}

Meet Your Farmer - Tide Mill Farm from Pull-Start Pictures on Vimeo.

Dream.

{Nine to five}

I realize many of you have no idea what I'm doing with my life now that I can't check "Full-time student" off on my doctor visit forms.


{WARNING: I maintain all rights to humble brags on this post.}

#1: Woe to me for being shafted into the workforce, but I do have the best job ever




This is my 9-5..

Did I mention I'm new to the teaching art biz as well? Like, really new.
Newer than new. Newest. Infant-of-the-arts-in-training new.



This year, you can find me working at A Little Artsy in Dallas, but sometimes I just call it heaven.


This is my element. My happy place, my sanctuary.


I work for one of the greatest women of God I know. Her name is Casey Wiegand and while I could talk for a day and a half about how great she is, I'll let her blog do all the talking. Case in point: I'm fairly certain she is an angel.


But I can't tell you all about my job just yet or this blog might only have one post! (Seriously, what do I blog about? What do you even want to know? Oh lawd, I'm such a newb.)



So hang tight.
Look for my daily's.

Expect pictures.
Expect food.
Expect faith.
Expect fanciful stories and laughable adventures.
Expect humility and honest confession.
And seriously, expect food.