Friday, June 1, 2012

Someday: A Teen & Her Journal

After a series of failed relationship and heartbreaks, I wrote in my journal, “Today is the last day and this is the last time I will ever allow myself to get hurt. No more guys.” Did I write this last year? Did I write this last week? No, I wrote this on November 23, 1999. I was fourteen years old.

While cleaning out my office closet the other day, I came across a Winnie the Pooh notebook. I recognized it immediately—my journal. I started this particular journal on February 20, 1999 and the last entry is from December 11, 2002. I amused myself by reading through it. I had written about boys I liked, friends that had coupled off, break-ups, parties, friends, and all the ups and downs of being a teen.

What struck me the most about reading entries from my teen-hood was that I haven’t changed much. I mean, I have had lots of life experiences since then, but essentially, I am the same person. I am a fourteen-year-old girl trapped in a twenty-something’s body. On January 25, 2001, I wrote, “I’ve decided that I need something more. I need love…real love.” Good grief! It sounds like I am trapped in a loveless marriage or I am a forty-year-old divorcee—I was only a teen dealing with boyfriend issues. 

I thought hard on this one—if I could go back, what would I tell myself? Back then, I had my “life plan” all figured out. How do you tell a teenage girl that all her hopes and dreams may or may not happen? Is that what our parents try to tell us, because they went back and read their own journals more than a decade after they wrote in them? More importantly, if I were to write in it today, what would I tell my future self? Interestingly enough, the last page in the journal reads:

…I’ll be famous.
…I’ll experience real love.
…I’ll love myself.
…I’ll get married.
Dated January 15, 2001

…I will be happy with my life.
…I’ll love myself.
Dated March 19, 2001

…I will be at peace with my life.
Dated December 2, 2001

…my life will be remembered.
Dated January 2, 2002

…I’ll look back on my journal and laugh.
Dated December 17, 2002

If someone had told me back then that more than a decade later I'd be sitting at home blogging on a Friday night, I might have just given up on love then. But as I pick up my old journal and add another entry for me to look back on someday, I write, "The difference between fourteen year old me and twenty-six year old me is that I believe in love more now." I'm still standing, even after a decade of heartbreaks. That's probably what I would tell fourteen-year-old me--"You'll make it."

Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Paleo Chocolate Chip Macadamia Cookies

I scoured the Internet for Paleo Chocolate Chip Cookies I could make with ingredients I already had on hand. Many of them called for maple syrup, agave (not Paleo), and random nut oils. This one I had everything for AND they turned out great. I actually am not that big of a chocolate fan, so before I added the chips, I made a few cookies. Then, I added chips and made a few more. Finally, before I made the last few cookies, I added macadamia nuts. Yum!

Paleo Chocolate Chip Macadamia Cookies

1/2 cup coconut flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp sea salt
1/2 cup unrefined coconut oil (I think refined would work just the same.)
1 cup blonde palm sugar
2 large eggs (cage free)
1 1/2 tsp vanilla
1/2 - 1 cup chocolate chips (dairy, nut and soy free--I used the Enjoy Life chips; optional)
1/2 - 1 cup macadamia nuts (optional)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Whisk the coconut flour and the baking soda together in a medium bowl.

In a large bowl mix together the coconut oil, palm sugar, eggs, salt, and vanilla, then add the dry ingredients and mix well. Add the chocolate chips and macadamia nuts (optional).

On a parchment-lined cookie sheet, use a cookie scoop to form the cookies. I pressed mine down a bit and they turned out perfect!

Bake for 7-10 minutes, depending on your oven.

**Recipe adapted from: BakerGal

Saturday, February 25, 2012

27, err, 95+ Dresses

I have so much blogging to catch up on, that I don’t even know where to begin…but today that’s not important. What is important, however, is my dress closet.

As a young girl, I refused to wear anything but skirts and dresses. (I know, big shocker, right?) I especially wanted them to be pink or purple. The frilly-er, poofy-er, sparkly-er, the better. I always have been (and always will be) a girly-girl.

This afternoon, as I was organizing my dress closet**, I had a “moment.” I was trying to decide which ones should stay and which ones should be consigned/donated. It was impossible. This was the dialogue in my head:

“Ok, red dress. Hmmm, I have only worn it once, about seven years ago, it can go. WAIT! I wore that my sorority’s River Boat Semi Formal. That can’t go…Ok, long printed dress. I only wore it once, a few years ago, it can go. WAIT! I wore that to a wedding of two wonderful friends in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. I still fit in it. I may not wear it, but it can stay. Ok, now, black dress with pink bow. It’s not even my size anymore (I’m smaller now) and I’ve only worn it once… WAIT! I wore it to my college graduation at the University of North Texas. I wore hot pink shoes to match the bow, that way my parents could pick me out in the crowd. (As if they weren’t in the first row…) Geez, this is getting ridiculous. Ok, try again. How about this incredible, pink, poofy Betsey Johnson dress? I wore it on my 25th birthday and again in Vegas (WHOA! I wore it more than once!). It’s still in excellent condition. I could probably consign it and make some money back on it. WAIT! What if I have a daughter someday and she sees pictures and wants it?! Then what? Ok. Fine. I’ll keep it. But I am getting rid of a dress that was my sister’s and one that I wore to my sophomore Homecoming…in High School. No “buts” about it…”

I buy dresses for occasions. I generally wear them once. But, each one has so many memories tied to it. I can’t bear to part with them. The memories, not the dresses…ok, ok. You got me. Or the dresses…

**yes, I have a dress closet…in my office…in MY apartment. Maybe I should blog about that…