Birthday Magic

I like to believe my birthday is magic. I tried to explain this to Kyle and if he didn’t get it, he at least did a really good job of smiling and nodding. But I’m totally serious. My birthday is magic. Maybe yours is, too. It’s not that the 14th of August is out of the ordinary exactly. It’s just that every ordinary thing is better on my birthday. The cup of coffee I drank yesterday might be the exact same size and brew today. But today it’s my birthday coffee. Food tastes better; it’s birthday food. Kisses seem sweeter; they’re birthday kisses. Clothes fit better…you get the idea.

And on the other hand, my birthday is a kind of melancholy thing. Every year I find myself wondering if being a year older should really mean something. Like, what is the great significance of this year that’s passed? I should feel different. I should be suddenly MORE or BETTER.  And maybe that’s why birthdays, even the magic ones, always secretly feel like a letdown.

The other two in the morning when I couldn’t sleep, I propped my laptop up on the end of the bed and Googled, “on turning 25,” scouring the internets for a pithy list of all the things I should now know that I am about to a non-24-year-old. I did read this very comforting article. There’s some good advice in there and it made me smile.

When I was little, I liked to play house with my friends. Probably like lots of you, for my friends and me, playing house mainly consisted of making up elaborate identities for ourselves and then putting on clothes and lipstick that reaffirmed our belief in those identities. In case you were wondering, my name was always Lisa and I was always 25. Lisa was a very glamorous 25 year-old and she really had life figured out. Lucky Lisa. 25 feels like a strange turning point somehow. Maybe because it’s the last milestone year (I can rent cars now…what’s left? Nothing but the senior menu at Denny’s, that’s what.) Maybe because it’s the first year I’ve understood the possibility of not being young. I guess the thing is, as a child, 25 was the pinnacle of a far-off adulthood I couldn’t wait to have as my very own. 25 was IT. And here it is. I want to go back, look little Elizabeth square in the face, and ask, “Now what, smarty pants?”

Every year on my birthday, I re-read one of my favorite poem/stories of all time, Eleven by Sandra Cisneros. In it, she writes.

What they don't understand about birthdays and what they never tell you is that when you're eleven, you're also ten, and nine, and eight, and seven, and six, and five, and four, and three, and two, and one. And when you wake up on your eleventh birthday you expect to feel eleven, but you don't. You open your eyes and everything's just like yesterday, only it's today. And you don't feel eleven at all. You feel like you're still ten. And you are--underneath the year that makes you eleven. Like some days you might say something stupid, and that's the part of you that's still ten. Or maybe some days you might need to sit on your mama's lap because you're scared, and that's the part of you that's five. And maybe one day when you're all grown up maybe you will need to cry like if you're three, and that's okay. […] Because the way you grow old is kind of like an onion or like the rings inside a tree trunk or like my little wooden dolls that fit one inside the other, each year inside the next one.

Maybe you feel like this, too?

All of this rambling leads me to the thing I’m realizing about birthdays. I counted on my fingers and realized that today is the EIGHTH birthday I’ve spent with Kyle. We have this great day planned and I’ve spent weeks scoping out the places we’re going and the things we’ll do there. I’ve been saving this amazing bottle of wine for tonight and I’ve been internet-drooling over the cupcake menu at Blue Frost. But if everything goes wrong today, if the car won’t start, if the cupcakes are stale, if there’s a hailstorm, if the Redbox is all out of copies of The Artist, if the zombie apocalypse descends upon us, it’ll be a birthday zombie apocalypse. And it will be magic.

Here’s to another ring inside the tree trunk.

love, elizabeth

staring down my childhood

Yesterday was my second day in Colorado visiting my parents. One of the main purposes of my visit this summer is to go through my many belongings in storage and consolidate so that my mom and dad don’t have to drag my stuff with them when they move this year.

There’s something kind of a sadness digging through these boxes. Fortunately, I had Sarah around yesterday and she kept me laughing, reading diary entries aloud and drinking tea out of my extremely practical tea cups.

Sarah and I have been friends since 8th grade and sitting in my old bedroom, on bed sheets I bought in high school, reading old notes we passed each other, and finding trophies from summer camp and Avril Lavigne posters…it felt a little like time travel.

I don’t know why it’s painful exactly but it is. Sweet but ache-y.

Here are a few of my favorite things we uncovered. Things like my learner’s permit, my grandmother’s brooch, and one of my first love letters from Kyle…

What have you uncovered from your childhood?

love, elizabeth

Be My Valentine: DIY

Anyone sick of me talking about Valentine’s Day yet?

This year I was craving that feeling I got when I was a little girl and used to make my own Valentines. So I got all the essentials: construction paper, Elmer’s glue, doilies, glitter. It was pretty therapeutic.

 

What about you? Any Valentine’s Day traditions for you?

love, elizabeth

Me and My Juice Box: A Valentine’s Day Giveaway

If you’re like me, you mostly think being a grownup is awesome. But then there are those days when you think, ‘The only thing I want to be responsible for is me and my juice box.’ Remember all that stuff that made being a kid so great?

So just in time for Valentine’s Day, I am giving away a box of sweet, sweet nostalgia. I’ve put together a whole bunch of kid things and I’m sending my favorites to one of you…

Included:

- 24 Crayola Crayons, fresh in the box. I read a study that said sniffing Crayola’s regularly lowers your blood pressure. I can’t disagree.

- Absolutely legit and authentic Barnum’s Animal Crackers.

- Brand new 7-foot jump rope.

- A scrunchie ball.

- Pixy. Stix. You heard me.

- Lip Smackers. Surprise flavor.

- A handmade Valentine to keep or give.

- And… (are you sitting down?) a make-up bag from every seven year old’s favorite designer, the queen of posh and purple kittens, Lisa Frank.

Like a freakin’ time machine.

 

So how do you win this little box of happiness?

Four possible entries (leave a separate comment for each):

Be a follower of Love is the Adventure using Google Friend Connect (only mandatory entry).

Tweet about the giveaway and include a link to this post.

Mention this giveaway in a blog post and include a link.

Like Love is the Adventure on Facebook.

 

The giveaway will close on Friday night (2/3/12) at midnight and I will announce the winner on Saturday morning!

What do YOU most miss about being a kid? What thing makes you really nostalgic for that time of your life?

love, elizabeth

Summer is Like Being Seven Again

This last weekend Kyle and I indulged our inner kids a little.
Saturday night, I made s’mores over the stove…because we were too lazy to go outside and fire up the grill. I think they tasted better with the two of us, barefoot in the kitchen, eating over the counter, and giggling like 2nd graders. Kyle made a lot of fun of me because my method of toasting marshmallows is basically setting them on fire and blow them out, instead of patiently toasting all sides. Because that takes too long and I like them crispy.
I love how smooshy and messy and delicious they always are…



And then Sunday, after church, we decided we needed to get out in the sunshine so we went to one of our favorite outdoor spots in Columbus, the Park of Roses. Which, in case you didn’t know, is a park. Of roses. It’s actually a really big park and we had a lot of fun walking around and snapping pictures.



And spying on this very large, very bizarre expedition of people with gigantic butterfly nets that piled out of a van and set off for the woods. We, uh, we kept our distance from THOSE people. I was a little afraid of the guy in the safari hat.
We had a picnic under the trees, complete with basket, blanket, and our very own picnic ants!


Madigan really wanted a sandwich.

I think we took over a hundred pictures but here are a few of our favorites…







There’s a huge weeping willow tree in the middle of the park that hundreds of people have carved their initials in. Maybe someday I’ll be feeling rebellious enough to add ours.









What does your inner kid love to do?
love, elizabeth
PS: Start the countdown…just NINE more posts till our next giveaway! Tell your friends, tell your fellow bloggers!

GUEST POST: Jenni from Story of My Life

Today, I am honored to be welcoming my very first guest blogger, Jenni, who writes a beautiful (and extremely popular) blog full of gorgeous pictures of her family, her adorable dogs, Gracie and Cooper, her darling home, and all the great places she's been visiting. Not only was Jenni was my very best childhood friend but she continues to inspire me as a blogger and a photographer (although I am nowhere NEAR as talented as she is in either department!).




Why, hello Elizabethans.  My name is Jenni, and I blog over at Story of My Life.  Elizabeth and I were the bestest of friends way back when we were suuuper nerdy homeschooled kids both living in Germany.

Now we're just super nerdy grown-ups.  Some things never change.

I found a mildly terrifying rather endearing picture of us together back in our glory days, but I seem to have misplaced it now.  I wish I had it to share with you.

Anyway, Elizabeth and I reconnected thanks to the wonderful world of Facebook, and I have so enjoyed getting to know my sweet childhood best friend again.  Elizabeth is a doll isn't she? And hilarious. And disgustingly smart.  All traits which, I remember quite well, she embodied at the tender age of 9, as well. 

While rummaging around in my "memory box" the other day (the place I put all of the funny little trinkets I don't have the heart to throw away), I stumbled upon an old letter that Elizabeth wrote me after my family moved back to the U.S. and away from hers (we were 9 or 10 at the time).  I must have laughed for days after I read it, and it seemed appropriate to share it here. 

"Ynnek" is code for Kenny, by the way.  He's the boy we BOTH had a major crush on.

Oh, and I used to spell my name with a Y (it wasn't a typo).

Enjoy.

My favorite parts are:

Who will tell me to put my glasses on?

and

I will tell you what Ynnek looks like.  Remember our code words, Jenny

and

As soon as your email is hooked up, write me!  It is important to the well-being of our children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren!

Hilarious.  I'm sure you need no further proof that we were pretty darn nerdy.

Thanks for reading!  Come visit me at SOML any time!

Story of My Life

.......

Cough. I don't think anyone is surprised that I went on to get THREE degrees in theatre. I'm so surprised Jenni saved that! On a serious note, I really did cry for weeks when Jenni moved away. For a nine-year-old to lose her best friend across an entire ocean was pretty devastating. Very grateful for technology and the ability to reconnect after all this time.

So if you're not already addicted to Jenni's remarkable blog, go visit her right now and say hi! A million thank-you's to her for taking the time to post here today!

If you're visiting Love is the Adventure for the first time, I hope you'll come back again! I love having you here!