a case for non-vanity blogging

i'm in the midst of a blogging identity crisis. seriously.

i've been thinking a lot about taking my blog to "the next level"—although I'm still not quite sure what that even means. inserting a mario theme song and taking on more encounters with bowser? maybe. more likely, it means adding new and fancy features, posting more often, and adding to my follower base.

as i've explored the idea, i've browsed other blogs for inspiration, starting with familiar ones and following the long chain of clicks that brings me to someone living in belgium or someone with eight kids. how in the world did I get here?? what else is new...welcome to blogging, and the web in general.

anyway, the more i've read, the more i've noticed a theme throughout a lot of blogs: ME. (some) blogs are an outlet to showcase people's lives, kids, fashion, and brilliant ideas.

my friend and i used to joke that after a break up, we wish that we could have a megaphone shouting, "heather is okay! she's doing just fine without you...better, really." sometimes, i feel like blogs are that megaphone. "hello society, I'm doing wonderfully...better than you, in fact. just look at my adorable children, hot husband, and super creative, amazing life." my life over a loud speaker. holy moly, do i REALLY want people to see that?

it sounds crazy, right? and yet, we are entirely entertained. we desire to know how other people are spending their time and money, how they are raising their families, how they are dressing, what they are doing, which new DIY project they just accomplished—so that we can have some measure of our own success. 

when I really stop to think about it, i find utterly disturbing the amount of detail i know about someone's life, their pregnancy complications, the love notes they write to their husband, their diet issues, workout routine, etc. if i ever met that person, i would be quite embarrassed about how intimately i know them without actually knowing them. would we have anything to talk about? not much—i've already experienced everything they've ever done, ate, said, wore, and thought (and everything that their spouse, children, parents, and friends have ever done, ate, said, wore, and thought).

i saw a good friend last week and we talked a lot about the importance of community. the conversation caused me to think a lot about community in my own life—what it means and how i can be intentional about fostering it. i came to realize that in today's society, we straddle two versions: community and commuNETy. most of us engage in some type of face to face community—workplace, town, family, neighborhood, church, etc. but more and more, this type of community gives way to commuNETy. screens replace interpersonal relationships.

don't get me wrong here: i'm not opposed to modern technology or social media. i had an iphone, i blog, i sit at a computer for a living, i use Facebook and twitter, i'm learning html/css code. i'm just as entrenched as the rest of you. and really, there's nothing inherently wrong with any of it…as long as we can take moments to remove ourselves—to step back, consider our priorities and self-evaluate (hence this post).
 

right now, i hunger to be knit together with people in my local community, through face to face interactions, coffee dates, beach picnics and birthday celebrations. and while i do find inspiration in the blogging community, i also find a sense of detachment. without the interpersonal element, the organicness of relationships, the beauty of sharing life, my ability to feel full is much more limited (like when your mom told you not to eat junk food, but it tasted amazing and you binged..only to feel sick and hungry again later. then you grew up and discovered healthy, organic food that took more time to grow, cook, and digest, but left you feeling so much better after). everything in moderation, right? so, binge on the shallow stuff once in a while, but make the organic stuff your staple...and don't let your commuNETy replace your community.

dear motorcycle brigade on main street,

i've never seen anything like you in this quaint little town before. in fact, i'm surprised they even let you through--and with police escorts none the less! (not to be judgmental, but i think the only other times i've seen policemen and motorcyclists together have been in cases of speeding tickets and accidents.) around here, there are lots of rules: trains aren't allowed to sound their horns, and trash cans must be exactly two feet from the curb in order to get picked up on trash day. maybe they forgot to make a rule about motorcycle brigades. i hope they don't because it would be fun to have you back sometime. you were a nice break from the stuffy audi, lexus and mercedes drivers that frequent the streets around here. i admire your sense of freedom--the way you let the wind comb through your long wiry pony tail, the way you don't care that your shirt is untucked and your pants are riding too low, the way you can ride for miles and miles without any purpose or rush. more people could stand to untuck their shirts and let the wind in their hair from time to time. i am one of them.

what were you doing around here anyway? i attempted to google you when i got home, but what do you even enter for a search like that? "why were there bikers driving through my town today?" no results. maybe there was a convention around here. maybe you were just out for a saturday drive (which wouldn't be a bad idea--it was beautiful today). maybe you're starting out on a trip from the east coast to the west coast, or maybe you just finished a trip from the west coast to the east coast. maybe there was a parade (did i miss it?). maybe you were the parade. in any case, i'm glad you came through this little town and brought fresh life to the streets today.

lemon poppy seed glory

sometimes you just need a lazy saturday morning. and sometimes that lazy saturday morning just needs to include brunch. and sometimes that brunch needs to be something spectacular and unique...like lemon poppy seed pancakes.

so, get out...

2 c. flour
1 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/3 c. sugar
pinch of salt
1/3 c. poppy seeds
zest of 4 lemons
2 c. buttermilk
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
2 tbsp. melted butter, plus some for greasing the pan and serving
strawberries, raspberries, and sugar for topping

then...

combine the flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, salt in a large bowl. mix the buttermilk, eggs, butter, lemon zest and poppy seeds in another bowl. add the wet to the dry and stir all ingredients, but don't overmix.

heat pan over medium-hot and brush it with a bit of butter. pour about 1/3 c. of batter into the pan. wait until the pancake bottom is deep golden in color, then flip with a spatula and cook the other side until golden and cooked through. while your pancakes are cooking, place strawberries and raspberries in a sauce pan and sprinkle with sugar. warm over low heat until the sugar and fruit juices turn syryp-y. pour over pancakes and EAT. [find the original recipe here]

[and then do the dishes later]

please invite me to your wedding

dear cyclist on asbury street,

you whizzed around the corner with your lady friend, both of you painted in your sleek spandex outfits--black and shiny with patches of florescence. your sunglasses protected your eyes from the sun on that beautiful afternoon, and from the wind that was probably hitting your face at that high speed.

you and the bike seemed to be one unit--your hands seamlessly fit the handlebars, gripping the gear shifts and breaks, and your feet melded into the pedals like they were an organic extension of your limbs. you're a natural, cyclist on asbusy street. your lady friend too. the closeness with which you two rode gave the appearance that you were on a tandem bike. like you two and your bikes were all one unit. only after you turned the corner did i realize that there were four wheels instead of two, two bikes instead of one. i thought you might crash into each other, but you didn't.

actually, when you turned the corner was when i really noticed you. (there are lots of bikers all over the roads that i run, and to be honest, i don't pay a lot of attention to your type most of the time. you look quite similar painted in spandex and hidden behind sunglasses and helmets.) you noticed me too at that point. you saw me running toward you on the side stretch of the shoulder just outside of the white line on the road. to warn your lady friend/pseudo-tandem-bike-partner about me, you shouted back to her, "walker up."  which actually sounded like, "wokrRUP." (whatever that means...wait...walker? is he serious?) cyclist, i can tell you that from that point on, i was very clearly not walking. your little shout-out to your friend gave me that surge of motivation to pick up the pace. truthfully, i wanted to kick your butt for interpreting my run as a walk, but i kicked my own instead on the second half of that asbury street loop. 

who was your friend that rode a few hundred feet behind you? he wore a funny helmet that had holes in it, like a white beehive sitting on top of his head. i wished that your friend had another cyclist riding close to him like you and your lady friend, because by the time i crossed paths with him, he would have certainly yelled "runrRUP." (yes, runner, not walker, that's me.)

challenging the habit of discontentment

friends, it's been far too long. april tends to be one of the craziest times of year for me (see this post from last april and this post from last june, the two times i was able to catch up on writing in a span of about three months). this april has proven to be just as chaotic--my parents went to israel, we scored red sox tickets during the week of fenway's 100-year anniversary, we ran our first 5k of the year (just as i was recovering from tendonitis and bursitis in my hip, and tendonitis in my achilles), josh got a horrible case of poison ivy ev.er.y.where, wonderful friends came to visit, we celebrated eight whole months of marriage, and, oh, i led 120 17-year olds on an eight-hour tour of boston the day before marathon monday (can we say chaos again?!). in need of some rest, i took today off to be home and slow down.

i recently came across this print online and it's been in the back of my mind for a few days (dorky moment of truth: it's been in front of my face for a few days--i wrote it on a post-it note and stuck it to the bathroom mirror.):

i don't particularly love the design on this print, but i love the meaning behind this simple statement.  live more from intention and less from habit. 

i have a (bad) habit of discontentment. and friends, if we're all honest with ourselves, i think many of you may say the same. i'm continually tempted by the next step. where will i go next in my career? when will we move into a new place, or buy a house? when should we get a dog? when will we make more money and "arrive?"  the cultures that we live in only reinforces the drive to the next step in life, telling us that we are valuable only once we reach a certain point.

i've been wrestling with this notion for a while and back in november, i wrote as one of my resolutions, "be intentional about investing in the here and now, take advantage of moments to talk with complete strangers, and be a part of where we live."  then after visiting a good friend in january, i reflected on my resolutions, "once again inspired to keep at this one. i'm realizing that this takes lots of patience, time, and perseverance." fast forward a few months to mid-april and i'll say again, it certainly does take perseverance to kick old habits.

in our small group, we recently wrapped up a study on philippians, with the last meeting focusing on the famous verse, "i can do all this through him who gives me strength" (4:13 niv). too often, this verse is misconstrued and used out of context. we refer to this verse when we're about to face a tough task, confront someone, endure a tough workout. and the truth is that christ can help us through each of those things, but i think that when paul wrote this from his prison cell, he meant something so much more.  if we back up, we can see a bit more context when he writes, "...i have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. i know what it is to be in need, and i know what it is to have plenty. i have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. i can do all this through him who gives me strength" (philippians 4:11b-13 niv). paul is writing about the strength to be content, which is a deeper and far more challenging task than manning up for a tough task or confrontation. in fact, some translations of philippians 4:13 refer to this contentedness as completeness. the strength to be complete in christ, to recognize that he has the capacity to fill any and every hole in our lives and to carry us through any and every situation.

as a sinner living in a fallen world, kicking the habit of discontentment is hard and, at times when the world screams that we are incomplete without that next step or thing, seemingly impossible. but knowing that i have been made complete in christ and that i do not need anything more to gain his approval gives me the freedom to live intentionally, to be more present in the place that he has brought me to, and less indebted to the trenches of  bad habit.