Like Popcorn Jelly Bellys

Sometimes in life you just have to push past the noise and do things for yourself.  Things that make you you, things that ensure you are being true to yourself. 

When I was a little girl we visited an old-fashioned hardware store after church one Sunday.  The floors were creaky wide planked hardwood boards and along an entire wall was a glass counter filled with jars of candy by the pound.  There was an employee handing out candy and he had me sample the newest flavor of jelly bean...popcorn.  It sounded gross but when I tasted that it instantly became my favorite.  I loved the way the flavor was so different and so unique. 

When I became a teenager though and then even in college, whenever there would be jelly bellys around someone would inevitably say how much they hate the popcorn ones and I found myself agreeing with how gross they were. 

I knew I had liked them but seeing them being scoffed I thought that I must have some weird memory of them in my head...that surely I was wrong and they weren't as good as I thought they had been.  And just like that I changed what I thought because of other people. 

That has happened in my life too.  With this blog.  A couple of years ago, before I moved to this platform, I wrote a blog I knew to be true to my heart.  It wasn't meant to be about someone it was meant to be about what was on my mind when someone outright did not like me and how I was going to react and deal with it.  Well, a lot of people reached out and were accusing me of saying things that were not in the blog at all.  Ouch.

I didn't really mind the comments because it's easy to see through hurtful comments to see hurt people who react by hurting others.  But what I did wonder was...Did those people really see all of those things in my one blog?  How did I miss all of these subliminal messages I was apparently putting in my articles?  

I found that I started letting that message into my writing...I was putting on different lenses when I started writing anything wondering what yeah-hoo God knows where is going to pull some weird, obscure something out of my writing that I had no intention of saying.  Because if it happened that one time...

Just like that I started censoring myself.

Thinking it would help, I reached out for professional help.  I attended writing seminars, consulted former editors of mine, participated in book launches, accepted invitations to courses led by other prestigious bloggers: I thought that would help give me direction but instead I ended up with a head full of even more restraints and rules with upon to censor what I have to say.  Idealogies such as imagine a person you're writing to, don't have too many topics, don't write about your kids, no one cares!, write about things people want to hear, do seo searches before you write to make sure people will search for your content with the right words

And just like that I popcorn jelly belly-ed myself all over again.  I ended up convincing myself that I must not be good at this.  That my "talent" and love of writing was some distorted memory, that I must not be cut out for this after all. 

Then last week, one of my amazing friends had me over for breakfast and in the warmth of her kitchen I put all of this to words and revealed to her my two year long struggle of writers block and why it's been so hard.  She said the words I needed to hear, "just write whatever you want."  As a fellow writer I know she gets the kind of smothering grasp too many restraints can take on your creativity. 

And just like that my popcorn jelly belly faΓ§ade fell away.  It is okay to be me.  To like popcorn jelly bellys or to write or to watch one episode of Dick Van Dyke every morning.  Whatever weird thing it is, it's okay to be me. 

Last week I was stealing some of the kids jelly bellys (because Costco had 4 pounds for 9.99, yo).  Nick was in the kitchen with me and when I got to a popcorn one I said "mmm. I love the popcorn ones...they're my favorite."

I could tell you I have some super cool husband who said something airy"good for you, babe, but they're just not for me"  or something but instead the little weasel teased me about it...because that's how we roll, yo.

So here's the thing... 

I've learned that no matter what I do there will be haters (just watch the comments if you want some laughs from people who stalk my blog just waiting and have nothing but mean things to say...I'm sure they are coming!) but one of those haters shouldn't be me hating on myself.  There's no need to hate on myself because of my jelly belly awesome flavor love.

And that is how I'm feeling about writing too.  I want to write about what I want.  What interests me.  What I love.  Not what I think the world thinks they want to read.  I want to be true to myself.  True to me without caring about what other people deem as not good enough or weird or gross. 

So I'm getting back to me.  Back to my roots.  Back to Lindsay who does most everything okayish but not too many things particularly well.  Blogs like this one that really spill out my soul. Blogs about baking bread or perler beads or how to remove dry erase marker off my carpet.  Whatever. 

So, friends, this is me, bleeding out on the carpet for all the world to see. 

Not really.  I'm here in sweats occasionally stealing a popcorn jelly belly from my kids' easter basket.  They are the best after all...

Happy Tuesday!

Random Thoughts at Work

When is the last time you ate canned meat? Does anyone eat this on a regular basis? I bought corned beef in a can last week. Wasn't bad, but just weird. Nick made weird faces and yet proceeded to eat it. This is the man though who had not had spam until we were married and he loves it. Ah canned meats

Does anyone else ever see someone a little "too" excited about Halloween and wonder if they worship the devil?

I am looking for a tactful way to tell a 82 year old woman that you do not need any more wreaths and purple flowers look fake...any suggestions?

How do you know when sour cream is bad? It is cream that has soured for goodness sake. And cottage cheese. People should know how to spot these things. Because when you are pregnant all animally products smell like hairy buffalo butt anyway.

So I was showing Emma lint when we were doing laundry and I am trying how to explain what lint is...fibers of cloth and hair and other grossness?

What do you think a good man name for me would be if I were ever to become a man? I am thinking Leon might suit me.

Put Your Boobs Away

Put Your Boobs Away!

Everyone listen up. This is a special blog as I have been meaning to write it for a long time now. As you all should know, I am a converted modest mom. I admit, I used to dress like, well, like I was trying to find a husband. And I continued dressing in this manner even after Nick and I were married. I remember there came this point where I remember thinking "what is the point?" Nick's friends don't need to see what I have. And lets face it, I have some spectacular breasts. But I keep them under lock and key. And why? Because my body is a gift that God gave to me to share with my husband. I now consider myself a present that only Nick can unwrap, and I've gotta tell you, it makes me feel pretty darn special. I know it also makes him feel special when I ask him if something is unappropriate to wear; it shows him that I respect him enough to not feel that I need to flaunt everything I have around. I don't need to keep others interested because I am not keeping my options open. That is what it tells me when wives dress inappropriately..."yeah I'm married to him...for now." So please ladies, stand up and button up. Show your men you only have eyes for them. And you expect them to only have eyes for you.

This is a subject Nick and I researched together this year. And what I learned is astounding. Men are born with this anane sense of undressing women. Women who are sensably dressed are much easier to divert from than the ones who are showing everything they think they have. I also learned and firmly believe that as Nick's wife, my job is to protect his eyes from this crap. I am not ashamed of telling Nick when something is inappropriate. And I have slowly filtered out friends and people I don't think dress enough to be around my precious husband. I may not talk to you, I may not want you in my house, I may not want you to say my husbands name. Because I expect him to only look at me. Selfish? You bet it is, but more importantly it is responsible of me. Because as big a job as protecting Nick's eyes may be, he has the enormous task of protecting my heart. He makes sure that I am not hurt or offended by anything. When he looks at other women, it hurts my heart, and so the cycle goes.

So ladies if you know me and want to continue to know us because we are so cool, please dress modestly. Don't do it for me, do it because it is the right thing to do. Do it for your husbands. Be your husband's present. Be only for him. And if you aren't willing to do this I suggest you buy him a speedo to wear to work tomorrow because that is basically what you are doing.

Can I get an amen?