Moonshine & Wanderlust

... a cosmopolitan view from a southern perspective

Missed Chances

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Sometimes I miss you

I try not to think about you but then

I hear a song on the radio and remember you telling me the story behind it
And my brain won’t shut off. My eyelids cease to be heavy. Instead my heart is heavy. 
I can’t tell you I miss you. Or, I love you. Or, I’m sorry.
You’re not a phone call away anymore.
I missed my chance.
I let little grievances that in the grand scheme of things don’t seem so grand anymore dictate my feelings. I let my hurt chop down the sprouts of forgiveness or hope that tried to bloom in my heart. 
Maybe I could have given you the hope you needed. To know no matter what you were still loved. And, cared about. That you had gifts and so much to give. If you only would have. 
I should have forgiven. I should have put aside my pride and told you I still loved you when I had the chance. When life hadn’t yet turned to ashes and I could still put it back together. I could have put it back together. 
“You’ll regret it one day.”
“Don’t be so bitter.”
“You should forgive.”
“One day it’ll be too late.”
I missed my chance. 

For the Good Days…

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Several of my recent posts have been about goals and persevering and not letting the challenges get you down… but, what about on the good days? The days where everything is really really good and that’s it? No fallout, no frustration… Those days are amazing, aren’t they? They make you feel like you can do absolutely anything. You’re on a natural high.

I’m going to be a bubble buster… be careful of these days. Especially if you are still working towards goals. Temper them with a clear head. Remember your journey. Remember your goals. Remember where you are going and what made you start out to begin with.

These days can mean a hundred things for different people – like going and stuffing your face full of pasta because you’re feeling really good about your physical progress or whatever it is you are working towards. I’m not saying don’t do it I’m just reminding you to be careful. I know those days too well. Your boyfriend is at the gym for two hours and you’re sitting at home like…

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OMG MY LIFE IS SO GREAT

(Don’t be that person. You’re gonna regret it later, I promise.)

Remember me talking about trying to master the wheel pose this month? Oh gosh… last night at yoga was so amazing. I really need to either recruit someone to get this excited with me or I need to find some more yogi friends. I DID IT! It was for like three seconds but I did it. And, you know what? I wasn’t struggling because of my pitiful upper body strength, I was struggling because of my back. It felt like I got lit on fire but I know I can do it and know what I need to adjust.

What I thought was stopping me wasn’t stopping me at all. So, I’ve learned. I’m adjusting and tweaking and repositioning myself. To be better. To push myself.

I could have stayed at home and not gone to yoga. I could have gone out to dinner. Or a movie. Or laid at home and Netflixed. But, I didn’t. I went outside and moved my body for 3.5 miles and then took my happy self to yoga. Because, that’s what progress is about. It’s about the hard days and the plateaus but it’s really about the GOOD DAYS when it’s tempting to skip a day. Or, to stop. Or, to be complacent.

“The greater danger for most of us lies not in setting our aim too high and falling short; but in setting our aim too low, and achieving our mark.” – Michelangelo Buonarroti     

until next time… xoxo, patty lauren

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall… Who Strives to be the Best After All?

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I’ve signed up for personal training recently. I’m like anyone else – I don’t like to admit when I’m not good at something. I used to get frustrated and want to give up. Remember the post about facing your weaknesses and knocking them out? I’m fighting them with both hands up and learning to be quick on my feet. I used to joke with people, especially those who tried to get close to me, that I had “problems” – in all honesty this was just a big, fat cop out and me trying to protect myself. It was an excuse not to kick my own ass and get in gear. Physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually. I know there are areas I need help in that I can’t do on my own. I need help. So, I’m getting it.

Along with becoming better you have to be willing to take criticism. No one likes to be told they’re anything but wonderful. But, we’re not always wonderful. We’re not perfect. I don’t ever want someone to think I’m perfect… because, newsflash: I HAVE FLAWS. We all do. I’d rather have the beautiful and slightly flawed diamond than the impossibly perfect diamond that holds no character. One of my friends told me recently I seem to always have it together. I don’t always have it together. I struggle daily with a myriad of things but I am choosing to overcome. I am choosing to be the best Patty Lauren I can be and that means telling life to come at me and see who walks out of the fire still standing. I refuse to do anything but keep going and go hard. Swallow the hard lessons and learn from the mistakes.

So what does personal training have to do with any of that? Well, I’m going to my personal consultation this week but I have been attending the owner’s class and she mentioned a few things to me at the end of one of our classes.

Form? Needs help.

Upper body? Needs help. (Yeah, no new news there. I hope I don’t slip on a hike anytime soon and have to pull myself up because I’m good as dead).

The natural inclination is to hear:

“#suck#notgood#failure#weak#suck#suck#suck”

Instead, I choose to hear: “#canbebetter#wanttobebetter#icandothis#bringiton#makemecry”

Yes, I used hashtags in my writing. Sue me.

So the next time someone tells you maybe you need a little help… brush the dirt off your shoulder (I may be listening to too much Jay Z while running) and look in the mirror.

Who’s your competition? YOU ARE.

Who makes you better? YOU DO.

Need a little help? TAKE IT

Go make stuff happen.

until next time… xoxo, patty lauren

~

 The dog days are over
The dog days are done
The horses are coming
So you better run

Florence and the Machine

Boobs, Booties, and Babes

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I know a lot of people are going to disagree with what I’m about to say and I respect that.

Body shaming. Hashtags. Instagram. Facebook. Twitter. Pictures. Flesh. Plummeting value. Plummeting respect. Plummeting relationships.

I used to think the multitudes of married female bloggers who wrote about “modest is hottest” (I still think that’s the stupidest phrase I’ve ever heard) were just writing those posts because they were jealous and miserable. They didn’t want their husband looking at another woman because they felt bad about themselves. And, really… that’s not it at all. I get it now.

As human beings we need to start protecting each other more. We need to stop pitting ourselves against each other as women and women need to really think about lording their sexuality over men as some sort of tool and power trip.

It’s not a good feeling to know your boyfriend/husband is looking at half naked or naked women. I don’t care how much self confidence you have or how pretty you are – it’s humiliating. In fact, I think the more self confidence you have the worse it hurts. You want them to want you. And, to want to look at you.

What’s the point of showing your cleavage/butt/lingerie, etc. to the world? What are you gaining from it and what message is it sending to the man in your life? That his eyes are not enough? That you need tens or hundreds or thousands of other men’s eyes on you, too?

I’m not talking about the pictures of physical progress if you’re into working out, etc. or the occasional bikini picture… I’m talking about the onslaught of cheapening the female body. Of cheapening our relationships. Of exploiting our personal lives.

Maybe you’re single and you are saying, “I’m single and beautiful and I like the attention! I’m not hurting anyone.” Are you not? Are you not hurting your value in someone else’s eyes? You are giving a little bit of yourself away with each picture… something less for the man that will one day be in your life.

Men are always going to look. And, they’re going to appreciate. And, that’s great. But, at the end of the day no matter what any of us say… we want something special. A man wants to know you haven’t posted a hundred pictures of your half naked body for other guys to look at. They want to know you have reserved some part of yourself for them.

People especially from my generation is very familiar with the teachings of our youth of giving pieces of yourself away physically. Now we are in a culture of giving away ourselves digitally. What’s special anymore if everything is so easily accessible and there at the click of a finger? We are turning into women who want to be “Liked” more than we want to be adored and loved.

Don’t settle for the temporary click. Value yourself. Value the man’s heart you want to value yours. Let us all remind each other we are each individual works of beauty.

The Sand Chronicles Part 5: He is Risen

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“Everything is going to be fine in the end.
If it’s not fine it’s not the end.”  Oscar Wilde

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4.0 Part 4.1

Sunday morning 5:15am came too soon. Saturday had been a magnificent day well spent and today would be our last at the beach. We got ready and headed down to the church that was hosting the sunrise service. Naturally, I wore some of my best heels for this special day. Some things will never change. Now, the plan was to take them off when we actually got the beach so I wasn’t going to actually try to wear them on the sand. That would just be silly.

It was. SO. COLD. But, the kind of cold that’s exhilarating. We found a place on the edge of the shore where we could see the sunrise behind the cross structure they had erected for the service. It was truly breathtaking. I will never forget it. How amazing we are free to sing on the beach about our Savior’s grace and love. We are free to worship and we take it for granted every day. We are indebted to those who have served and those that have given their lives for us to be allowed to have these spectacular moments of unabandoned worship.

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I think this is my favorite picture I took the whole weekend

 

The message really hit home, too. We are part of Jesus. We are part of the resurrection and we have responsibilities. We are supposed to be set apart and different. It was a good reminder to something we too often sweep under the rug. I was glad the pastor spoke on something so relevant on one of the most important days relating to our Christian faith.

Of course, I would have to have a mishap. The tide kept creeping closer and closer and I must have had to save my heels from near drowning at least 5 times. Don’t worry, babies… Momma’s got you.

After the service ended, E and I hung around to get some actual sunrise pictures together!

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Did I mention it was cold? Of course E was prepared with a blanket.

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a photographer’s dream lighting. TAKE ME BACK!!!

 

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We got back to the condo, packed everything up and headed out. We had planned beforehand to stop over in Savannah for a couple of hours. E has never been and was eager to see a little bit before we headed home.

We hit Forsyth Park and had brunch at The Sentient Bean  (highly recommend – they have a generous and delicious menu full of vegetarian friendly options that are aaaaamazing.)

We walked through the park and I had a little rendezvous with some spanish moss. One of my favorite things about the deep south is the spanish moss. The way the trees line the streets and the branches come over the road and create this dreamy, draping canopy is one of my favorite views. It’s romantic and so southern. While I don’t sit around thinking about wedding plans too often I do think spanish moss, cotton blossoms and peonies would be really dreamy for a bouquet.

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After brunch, we drove over to the River Street area. We got some ice cream and watched candy makers at River Street Sweets making pralines and taffy. We saw a cargo ship and waved to some people on the top of it that looked like ants. Our time was winding down and every moment stretched a little longer… It had been everything I had hoped.

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Trying honey at the Savannah Bee Co.

 

Of course… this is not the end of the story. We left Savannah and about an hour out of town E’s all-too-familiar nonchalant voice says:

“Oh gosh. Your bike.”

“What about my bike?” I shot up from my resting position and looked in my side mirror.

“It’s falling off the car.”

“What!” Sure enough, one side was about 5″ from the pavement. “Stop! Stop the car!”

“I’m trying!”

We skidded over the rumble strips but it seemed like the longest stop ever. “Stop the car, my bike is gonna fall off!”

“I’m trying!”

So, here we are… on the side of the freakin’ interstate trying to get my bike back up on the rack and secured.

“We need to get off the road. We’re going to get hit by a car.” I am literally about to pee my pants. All I can envision is a car coming over and killing us both.

We got the bike back on the rack and pulled off into a weigh station to re-bungee cord the bikes. I am now an expert at using bungee cords. Need something bungee corded? I’m your gal. Need something duct taped? I’m your gal. Bungee cord and duct tape together? You got it… I’m your gal. I know how to use ropes and use them well. Okay, that sounds like an advertisement for something else. Bottom line… I can work some stretchy cords and tape.

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The Bungee Master

About halfway through the trip, I took over piloting our speedy red Jetta. I did mention it was speedy, right? We’re cruising on, making good time to get the rental back, jamming out to some tunes (the radio needs more diversity. I swear if I hear ONE MORE song from 50 Shades of Grey, I am going to go postal), when E suddenly says:

“Patty, how fast are you going?” She is rubbernecking to look at the speedometer.

“Uh.”

I honestly didn’t know. Look, when you are used to driving a 17 year old tank that does not have a Start/Stop button and doesn’t beep at you when you don’t put your seatbelt on and actually has to have a KEY to open the door the chances are you are not going to realize you’re going 100MPH when it only seems like 75-80.

I also have a problem with speeding. I admit it. I like to drive fast. I like fast cars and I cannot lie. There, I said it. Sue me!

“You’re going 100 miles an hour! Patty! Oh my gosh. I knew I could see the 90 mark from over here but I couldn’t even see the red line!”

Nobody was injured. Live and let live.

We finally arrived back to Chattanooga with about 20 minutes to spare, enabling us to unload the car and bikes. It was at the point in time I was stung by an unknown flying inspect I can only assume was a bee or wasp since half of its booty was still stuck in my hand.

And, as always, E was prepared and removed the stringer with a pair of tweezers. Someone get this girl a job leading the Girl Scouts. Seriously.

This concludes our beach weekend… I have come back thankful, rested, rejuvenated, excited, hopeful, and peaceful. I am 1/3 of the way through 30 and it has been one crazy ride so far. Here’s to the next 3 months!

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until next time… xoxo, patty lauren