Tuesday, December 16, 2014

Nutcracker Wreath Tutorial

I have been meaning to get this out for a while and its finally done.  The simplest little wreath you may have seen this year.  My Nutcracker wreath.  Dedicated to Amy, who I always think of when I watch The Nutcracker, and ballet in general.

God made girls, consumed with feminist rage.

This week has been a tough one for me.  Despite living in a country that promotes freedom, and in a time when women are legally equal to men, I still get sexism shoved in my face.  Even people who love you, can be incredibly hurtful just by following through with the cultural norms they've grown up with.

The last few days have been brutally hard on my spirit, as I recall times when I was forced into positions I didn't want to be because I am female.  Everywhere, from service projects with my youth group, to college.  I think women don't talk about how little remarks, or attitudes that are so common place, can really hurt.

Like when in high school, serving with my youth group at an elderly lady's home, I was forced to do the dishes, when I wanted to clean the yard.  Because, boys do yard work and girls clean the kitchen.

Like in college, when I as a married woman, was continually sexually harassed by a fellow student making remarks about how he wanted me, while all my classmates laughed along.  Because guys hit on girls, even if the girl asks him stop.

Even now as a college graduate, wife, and mother of 3 I get called things.  Hurtful tings like "femme-nazi".  Words like, "crazy" when I get passionate about anything from crafting, to sex slavery, to Breed Specific Legislation.  I have to turn off songs like,  "God made Girls" that tells the world a woman's purpose is to sit in the passenger seat of a man's car, wearing a skirt, flirting, and forcing him to go to church.

But I'm not crazy.  I'm passionate.  I'm not a sex symbol, a maid, or mindless.  I'm a woman.  And I'm not the only one.  I'm joined by beautiful, powerful, and confident women like Chimamanda Ngozi.

And Lori The Generous Wife, who helped me better understand the purpose of woman's existence according to my main source of information: the Bible.

I have anger, at how I have been treated.  Even more rage for those who enslave women, but like Chimamanda Ngozi, I have hope for our world.  For my sons and my daughter that culture changes.  And that they will experience a completely different country music, that doesn't make me want to throw up on little blonde chicks.  

Tuesday, November 25, 2014

Happy minimalist Thanksgiving!

So, this year I am down sizing the holidays.  Honestly.  I have always been attracted to the modern minimalist aesthetic but the practice of having a simple bare minimum hasn't really applied to me.

This year I am potty training, and still not getting my twins to sleep through the night.  We moved near enough to train tracks to ruin any hopes of a silent night.  And I am desperately trying to get my underweight dog filled up. On dog food and not people food. He is being a food snob.  He will wait all day not eating, hoping I will drop a chunk of chicken into his bowl.  The problem is that I do.  He's just so skinny.

I've been giving in a lot lately.  To my dog, to my kids, to my late night chocolate cake/Halloween candy cravings, and to my temper.  I haven't been giving up.  Surrendering.  Which can be cleansing if you let it.

I love the idea of letting go and letting God.  I've done it in the past but I'm not doing it now.  So, this holiday season I am going to practice this.  Being thankful by letting go.  Trusting by letting go.  Growing by letting go.  And hopefully my home decor will match my easy breezy attitude.  

Speaking of home decor, check out what I made.
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