Dear Starbucks.

I’ve been a loyal customer for more years than I can remember.  I was lured to your shops by the caramel frappuccino and I stayed a customer because of the experience, the vibe and… the caramel drizzle. I worked for you for two years while I earned my undergrad degree.  I collect Starbucks mugs (my husband would say that I hoard them).  I may OWN a Starbucks sign (I didn’t procure it illegally).   I talk you guys up on social media sites.  I post the “white girl selfie” on Instagram any opportunity I get.  I defend the quality of your coffee.  I act haughty when people talk about going to other coffee shops.  I feel guilty when I frequent other locally owned shops as if I’m cheating on my first love.

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Sam. Day sixteen.

Sam.  Day sixteen.

It’s no secret that California is my favorite place. It’s where I used to want to live. People would ask me, “what do you want to do when you finish college?” My answer was always, “I want to be a teacher… in California.” At the time people were asking me this question, I had actually never even been to California. It was just the place that I KNEW I wanted to live.

I met Wes and we visited CA a lot because his sister (our sister, now) lives there and we had a lot of Jesus stuff to do back then. But, I recently realized that I may not really want to live in California. I know, that’s a big step for me to even admit that “aloud.” But, hear me out, the reason I may not want to actually make a life there in California is because I love going there so much (I mean, I ALWAYS cry when I leave…ALWAYS- and, I’m not a crier) but I want to keep CA special. If I live there and take care of all of my mundane business there, it won’t be special anymore. Besides, I don’t know for certain that I want to raise our family in CA. Babies change EVERYTHING.

I know. I know. It makes me sad, too. I know I want to move to a place that is NOT Arizona…or, at least, not Tucson, I just don’t know where. But, for now, Wes and I are wanting to keep California as our special place to get away from everything. We’ll see what God has in store. He knows better than we do anyhow. Just look at my bulging belly! Haha!

Sam. Day fifteen.

Sam.  Day fifteen.

Morning.

Flashback to that time that I looked up and saw a heart in the sky. So unreal. Little things like rainbows are some of the ways Jesus shows me His love for me. This picture is so beautiful that it looks Photoshopped but it’s not. It’s just God being God.

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Sam. Day fourteen.

Sam.  Day fourteen.

Shoes.

I may not have confessed this lately but I have a shoe problem. Well, not as big of a problem as I used to have. But I do have a lot of pairs of shoes. Tennis shoes. Dress shoes. Boots. Sandals. A lot. I used to work at a shoe store and I got a pretty nice discount on shoes. My “issue” got to such a point that I would get a rush purchasing shoes for my family members. Let me tell you. It was a sickness.

Thank the Lord for Wes and our mission to get debt free with Dave Ramsey (and the fact that we moved into a small house with a MUCH smaller space for shoes) that I no longer spend money (that I don’t have) on shoes. I still spend money but just not money that I don’t have.

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Sam. Day thirteen.

“The moment a child is born, the mother is also born.  She never existed before.  The woman existed, but the mother, never.  A mother is something absolutely new.”  — Bhagwan Shrew Rajneesh

 

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Hands.  My hands.  Touching BB.

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Sam. Day twelve.

Sam.  Day twelve.

Outfit of the day (OOTD).

It’s pretty unfortunate that today’s photo is supposed to be of the cutesy little outfit that I’m sporting. I wish I had left the house today but I haven’t (when I do go to birthing class, I’ll probably wear yoga pants…so sue me).  I’ve been home napping, watching Netflix, editing a book for a friend, baking banana bread, making my first ever batch of caramel sauce.  I even threw in a 10 minute arms workout via YouTube.  I’ve been busy. Besides, on days that I don’t leave the house, I don’t get dressed either.  Sorry to disappoint.  But I did take a shower and I even brushed my teeth (that’s kind of a bonus).  It’s summertime.  In Arizona.  Which means that it’s stinkin’ hot outside (a projected high of only 105 today).  This is my summer uniform.

The other day, I read an article from Modern Manners Guy (a subsidiary of GrammarGirl) entitled “The Narcissistic Photos of Instagram.”  He made a good point in the article, “Be honest with your photos.”  Well, this is me being honest.

 

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Sam. Day eleven.

Sam.  Day eleven.

Favorite color.

Orange and denim. I’m not sure if denim qualifies as a color but it’s one of my favorites (after orange, of course). I bought these Chucks when I was in high school. I’d been wanting some for a while but I never had the money and my mom had a strict “cheap” shoe policy: “No shoes that cost more than $30.” Well, Chucks back then were about $32 so they were out of the price range mama was willing to spend. So I got a job working on the school yearbook and I saved enough to buy my orange Chuck Taylors. To this day (14 years later) they’re still my favorite pair of shoes. I have them in three colors now, though. I’ve upgraded.

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Sam. Day ten.

 

 

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I went searching through my Insta to figure out what I photograph most.  It was a toss up between coffee, food pics, inspirational quotes and books as of late (some pics even combine two of the preceding). I don’t know how long I’ve been drinking coffee but I do know that I really like it.  Some would call me a Starbucks addict.  But I don’t strictly purvey Starbucks.  I really just like good coffee.  The coffee has to actually taste good (on its own) for me to be able to enjoy the cup.  I’ve been attempting (yes, again) to drink my coffee black.  The other day, I had it almost black (I added coconut palm sugar) and it was really good. But for coffee to be good black, it has to be good on its own.

I went to a nice restaurant (the one where I took the mirror pic from yesterday’s post) and everyone was ordering wine and beer.  I felt left out so I ordered a decaf coffee.  It was the WORST coffee ever!  I added so much sugar and milk to it but those things didn’t even kind of help.  To make matters worse, the coffee ended up costing me 5 bucks!  Like, seriously?  I can purchase two Starbucks for that price AND I’D ENJOY THEM!!!

I think somewhere down the line, I became a coffee snob.  And that’s okay.  Sometimes, when I go places (or to people’s houses–which doesn’t happen often see the Friends post) I don’t get coffee even though I really, really want some because their coffee is nasty.  If I have to put a crap ton of sugar and whipped cream and creamer in there, then your coffee tastes like butt.  Sorry.  It does.  

Last week, I went to Sprouts and purchased two bottles of this cold brewed coffee that the Paleo food bloggers I follow are always raving about.  I bought two.  They only had mocha flavor but I was okay with that because I wanted to taste this coffee.  Needless to say I was not impressed.  But I bought two bottles.  I managed to finish the first one but now I’ve got to suffer through the second one.  I’m not looking forward to it. I much prefer cold brewing good coffee (such as Starbucks or even the bulk coffees from Sprouts) in my iced French press.  I am a coffee snob.  So sue me.

 

 

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Sam. Day eight.

Friends.

You alone are enough. You have nothing to prove to anybody.- Maya Angelou

It’s taken my whole life to learn to be content with who I am. All of my quirks, pickiness, etc. It’s been quite the journey. In the process of becoming the woman I want to be, I’ve realized that I really don’t need to prove anything to anyone.

The thing is that I spent so much of my life trying to be someone else…ANYONE else. And I tried, believe me I did, I tried so hard to be like the people I was around. It just didn’t work.

But the thing is that when I was busy trying to be someone I wasn’t, I didn’t have any friends. Which totally makes sense because how could I attract like minded people when I didn’t know I was…or even who I wanted to become?

Fast forward to the present. I have a few very close friends – I call them my sister-friends. They get this name because they’re like sisters but without all of the dysfunction that comes along with siblings. It’s the best of both worlds!

These women came into my life when I was (finally) at a place where I was comfortable with who I’d become. They encourage me, correct me, laugh with me (and at me), they push me to be more “real,” more honest and to trust.

My sister-friends are amazing women. They are beautiful. They are witty. They are artists. They are avid readers. They are mothers. They are wives. They are single. They are married. They are Christians. They are still deciding if they want to be Christians. They are all the colors of the rainbow. They love to exercise. They hate to exercise. They are college students (or will be soon). They are working women. They are housewives. They are PHENOMENAL. But what makes these ladies even more sensational is that they love me for me.

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