i recently re-watched amy poehler’s commencement address to the 2011 graduating class of harvard university. why? because a) it’s graduation season, b) i’ve gotten really into parks & recreation these days and c) do i really need a reason? it’s amy poehler and harvard. that alone should warrant a second viewing.

anyway, i remember it being good. so good, in fact, that i re-posted a video of the speech in its entirety and probably even called out the below listed quote (for someone with a photographic memory, i really can’t recall the exact lines i chose to highlight) on the other blog. you know this one. but on this sophomoric round, i couldn’t help but be inspired all over again. and yes, the “not being flexible and hurting yourself on a treadmill that isn’t even turned on” comment was just as funny this time as it was the first.

I cannot stress enough that the answer to a lot of your life’s questions is often in someone else’s face. Try putting your iPhones down every once in a while and look at people’s faces. People’s faces will tell you amazing things. Like if they are angry or nauseous, or asleep. I have been lucky to be a part of great ensembles. My work with the upright citizens brigade led me to my work on Saturday Night Live, and when I graduated from that comedy college, I was worried about what came next. Then Parks and Recreation came along, a show I am proud of where I get to work with people I love. You never know what is around the corner unless you peek. Hold someone’s hand while you do it. You will feel less scared. You can’t do this alone. Besides it is much more fun to succeed and fail with other people. You can blame them when things go wrong. Take your risks now. As you grow older, you become more fearful and less flexible. And I mean that literally. I hurt my knee on the treadmill this week and it wasn’t even on. Try to keep your mind open to possibilities and your mouth closed on matters that you don’t know about. Limit your “always” and your “nevers.” Continue to share your heart with people even if its been broken. Don’t treat your heart like an action figure wrapped in plastic and never used. And don’t try to give me that nerd argument that your heart is a batman with a limited edition silver battering and therefore if it stays in its original package it increases in value. Watch it Harvard, you’re not better than me.

Even though, as a class, you are smart, you are still allowed to say, “I don’t know.” Just because you are in high demand, you are still allowed to say, “Let me get back to you.” This will come in handy when your parents ask when you plan to move out of their basement and you answer, “I don’t know. Let me get back to you.” Which leads me to my final thought: would it kill you to be nicer to your parents? They have sacrificed so much for you, and all they want you to do is smile and take a picture with your weird cousins. Do that for them. And with less eye-rolling, please. And so, class of 2011, it is time to leave. Oprah has spoken.

So I will end with this quote: Heyah, Heyah, Heyah, Heyah, Heyah, heyah, heyah, heyah, alright alright alright, alright, alright. The group: Outcast; the song: Heyah. The lyrics: nonsense. I’m sorry it was really late when I wrote this.

This is what I want to say. When you feel scared, hold someone’s hand and look into their eyes. And when you feel brave, do the same thing. You are all here because you are smart. And you are brave. And if you add kindness and the ability to change a tire, you almost make up the perfect person. I thank you for asking me to speak to you today. As you head out into the world I wish you love and light, joy, and much laughter. And as always, please don’t forget to tip your waitresses. Thank you very much.

sometimes i think about the people who inspire me in the writing realm. those who give me the little extra oomph to be better than my last post. and while i would never equate myself with having even half of the comedic chops of miss poehler, i will say that sometimes it’s just nice to know gals like her are out there roaming around this world. they, like the tina feys, mindy kalings, and the lesser knowns -lincee of ihategreenbeans, sarah of inmyopinion, jenny of thebloggess, and whoever writes surisburnbook, only serve to further solidify the fact that sarcasm, wit and sass can get you far in life. they may or may not get you hot husbands, too. i’m looking at you, poehler.

also, archie is not amused.

but really, i aspire to be just as equal parts pithy and equal parts flippant as my fellow female wordsmiths and maybe someday, if i really play my cards right, i, too will be asked to give a commencement speech. even if it’s for a community college in barstow.

so i’m going camping this weekend in honor of a certain special someone’s birthday.

if you’re like many i’ve uttered the above sentence to in the past week or so, you’re probably questioning the legitimacy of said claim. in other words, the first thought that may or may not have popped into your sweet little head upon becoming privy to my pending adventures was “wait, YOU camp?”

and while the first time i may have been offended that someone would mistaken me for a non-nature-er, upon further reflection, i have to admit…i get it. my over-sized flowers and wardrobe full of polka dots don’t exactly scream “i’m totally down with not showering and sleeping in a tent” do they?

but that’s where i’d like to try and eradicate your hasty deduction of my extra curricular activity repertoire. i’ll have you know that as a former girl scout, i have had my share of camping experiences.

sure, some of these so-called “experiences” have included cabins over tents and free-standing bathroom facilities over holes in the ground, but that by no means discounts them as viable occasions when mother nature and i had quality time to work on our bond.

growing up, my parents did a superb (<–i feel as though this word is far underutilized) job at exposing me and my siblings to the great outdoors. from an early age, we were taught the importance of experiencing the world around us; that family vacations produced far better and lasting memories than anything purchased at toys ‘r us (or for me, the sanrio store). and therefore, every break from school we had was spent road-tripping up and down the coast of california, en route to the likes of julian, mammoth, sequoia, and yosemite. countless are the photos of us laced up in hiking shoes, our hair up in pony tails (yep, dad, too, just kidding), with a walking stick as our guide. rocks were meant to be climbed, trails blazed, waterfalls admired and streams splashed in. i don’t think i’ll ever look back on my childhood without visions of a packed teal ford explorer, the way the meadows look at dusk in the yosemite valley, and most definitely s’mores. lots and lots of s’mores (did i mention i was slightly chunky as a kid?).

but youth was a long time ago, wasn’t it? and as i my father pulled my sleeping bag down from my garage rafters recently, i couldn’t help but to take a momentary pause as i tried to recall the last time that track-suit material body bag (that sounds terribly morbid) was used for anything more than a cushion to transport furniture from point a to b.

it has been quite some time since i have “camped.” it has been an even longer time since i’ve actually camped. and for that reason, among others, i completely understand the basis for my friends’ inquisitory remarks when i mention the happenings of the upcoming weekend. again, i get it.

but i’d like to think that despite the fact that i don’t have a lifetime membership to REI and my hiking attire looks like the fall catalog from lululemon, that come this evening, i will be fully embracing my no-make-up-one-with-nature-please-bring-scented-body-spray-because-there’s-no-running-water-for-showering-a-little-dirt-never-hurt-going ways.

so wish me good luck; that i make it through the next 48 hours unscathed, un-sunburnt (highly doubtful), un-dehydrated, and un-rattlesnake bitten. that i may even earn myself a merit badge or two (if you’re even allowed to earn them after retiring  your girl scout sash) -i may not know how to start a fire but i roast a mean marshmallow…

but most importantly, pray simply that that i soak up every moment of being out in God’s majestic creation while in the company of a few fabulous humans.

this is what it'll be like, right?

green skimmers: j.crew outlet (different colors) | floral blouse: ann taylor loft | blue suede shoes: h&m (in black) | brown braided belt: h&m (similar)

happy happy FRIDAY, y’all.

white flutter tee: gap (similar) | blue & white seersucker skirt: anthropologie sale | red & gold necklace: h&m (similar in teal & yellow) | red, white & blue espadrilles tommy hilfiger via tj maxx (similar):

hey! are you craving mexican food? (is the sky blue?)
do you live in north county san diego?
do you dream of bathing in tubs of white cheddar jalapeno sauce?
then you’re in luck! miguel’s cocina just opened a carlsbad location and it’s really really nice, y’all.

and here’s my best efforts to capture that sentiment.

(i’ll take shameless plugs for 1,000, alex)

also, you look really pretty today.

so this one time i went on a first date.

(you’re thinking this is going somewhere juicy and it kind of sort of is, but not really, regardless, keep reading, i promise it’s a good story and if you get all the way through and determine that it was actually not a good story, well i’m sorry. i wish i could give you back those ten-ish minutes, so instead send me your address, i’ll send you your refund).

ANYWAY. that date. a first of many. at this place -serenity. i know, i thought we were going to a spa, too. just kidding, i knew it was dinner but hello, the name totally implies that we could be going to do some yoga and drink green tea and talk about our auras, right? (truth be told the name of the entire restaurant is serenity restaurant and lounge. so you know, my whole spa cover is blown anyway).

well after our fabulous evening, i wrote about our dining experience for Ask Miss A.com (also, remember how i write for that site? just making sure. i don’t talk about it a lot, more so just shamelessly post the links from my articles on my facebook profile. but if you need me to be better about letting y’all know, well, i can certainly take my shame to another level and post the links on here as well. whatever is most helpful…) here’s a link to said article.

ok, still with me? i know, i get lost trying to follow me, too, sometimes. anyway, aside from the fact that the article was a nice way to recap our date, it was also the start to something that has all but snowballed into the most magical of life chapters now almost two months later.

so the article about serenity restaurant & lounge was published on AskMissA.com on a tuesday. april 10th to be exact. that friday, april 13th i boarded a plane to tennessee (i know, WHO chooses to get on a plane on friday the 13th? not that i’m superstituous or anything). and as i landed in nashville to visit my sweet b (remember when that happened?), upon switching off my phone from its airplane-mode state, i found nestled in my inbox, an email whose contents have since kind of changed my life.

(that sounds so much more ominous-slash-lofty than it really is. but i assure you, the contents of said electronic correspondence have certainly enhanced my life as of late).

the email was from a gal who worked for alternative strategies, a marketing communications firm which represents a myriad of clients -one of them being (drum roll please), serenity restaurant and lounge.

see where i’m going with this?

her google alert had gone off with the mention of her client on Miss A’s site and upon reading my article, she just knew she had to contact me for a meeting (her words, not mine). i called her a mere hours later  and we set up a time and place for said meeting. and from that day, until our eventual exchange exactly one week later, i was equal parts nervous and excited about the possibility of where this introduction over appetizers might lead. and then i proceeded to tell every single person i knew. obviously because a) i couldn’t contain my excitement, and b) i could really use as many people as possible praying for whatever was about to go down in seven days time.

[side note: if i didn't tell you personally, i probably meant to and never got around to it; as in, i probably got distracted by watching an episode of real housewives of orange county/atlanta/new jersey. but really that's no excuse. my deepest apologies.]

and just like that it was friday of the next week and i found myself seated at a table at 2good2b bakery cafe patiently awaiting my professional “date’s” arrival. and two hours of chatting, praising, story-telling and gluten-free food sampling later and i had solidified what would become a blossomed business-type symbiotic relationship. the parameters? essentially i would be treated to complimentary meals at any of alternative strategies’ restaurant clients in exchange for a written review of my experience and a posting of the article on Ask Miss A.com; guaranteeing exposure for their clients and solidifying gratis grub for me (and for a plus one, too) almost any time my schedule allowed.

i know, my head was spinning, too. free meals ANYTIME i wanted?

and from that initial meeting, i received two more emails from colleagues of the first gal to contact me. these individuals had also read my review of serenity and were vying for the chance to meet me in person as well. and so, a coffee date here and a happy hour meeting there and i had soon forged relationships with three of the company’s marketing managers. and the even more awesome thing was, they were not only pretty fabulous people to know for my writing’s sake and most definitely for my stomach’s sake, they were (and still ARE) also pretty fabulous in their own right, too. as in, i genuinely enjoyed getting to know them on a personal level as well.

because at the end of the day, aren’t relationships -whether they be platonic, professional, or romantic -all that really matters? build a bond with someone and you never know where it will lead. and if i’ve learned anything in my almost 27 years, it’s that it’s seriously all about WHO you know and less about what is up in that noggin of yours. although, it is helpful to be able to spew out random celebrity facts-slash-popular movie quotes every now and again, even if only for the entertainment value.

but back to those comp’ed meals.

in a little less than a month, i have been fortunate enough to be the honorary guest at five local restaurants -2good2b, local habit, prosect bar & grill, sabuku sushi, and most recently, the new carlsbad location of miguel’s carlsbad, and was also recently treated to a complimenary spa treatment (and one for my momma, too!) at the bellus academy spa & salon. to say that this whole dining like a queen and having people fawn over your every request is surreal and completely crazy to comprehend would be an understatement. but that doesn’t mean that i haven’t tried to soak up every minute of it. and i think the fine gent that has accompanied me on two of the five dinner ventures has also enjoyed himself, too.

i tried to take it all in, the first time i ventured out to take these new gastronomical super powers for a spin. the location? local habit in the hillcrest neighborhood of san diego. from the asterisk by my name in the reservations book to the “reserved” sign on the table and the immediate change in mood in the room when my backside found its temporary residence in that wooden chair, i logged each detail in my memory banks. it was happening. this dream of mine was beginning to gain momentum in the most unexpected of ways. sure, i had never sought to become a restaurant critic; heck, before i started dating again, i hardly ever ventured outside of the pre-made food section of jimbo’s, but suddenly fostering a love affair for unique cuisine and well, the concept of dressing up and having a fancy dinner out, began to gain appeal. plus who was i to look a gift horse in the mouth? even despite my dislike for the equine. and duh, the food at local habit was like really really good.

local habit date night.

gluten free. dairy free. but NOT deliciousness free.

i'm pretty sure they'll serve these in Heaven.

but obviously it’s not really about the free meals, is it? i mean, it kind of is, obviously, that is one SWEET perk, but in all seriousness, what i’ve gleaned thus far from this whole experience is that jeremiah 29:11 is truer now than it has ever been. i never imagined how a simple dinner at an asian-fusion restaurant with a boy whose acquaintance i had made at an 80′s party back in the fall would somehow turn into all of this. that instead of pursuing my dreams, they would almost pursue me.

“zenbu,” of japanese origin, can be loosely translated to mean “everything all at once.” if ever there was a word that could correctly encompass my life at this present moment, it would be this five-letter noun. all of a sudden my dreams of becoming a freelance writer have received a steroid shot. that whole “woe is me” single plight seems to have been quieted for the time being, and well, things have actually picked up at work work, too. then there’s the whole showering, managing to make it to the grocery store every once in a while, keeping up with friends (i have been the WORST at this and i sincerely apologize), and don’t even get my started on that whole DVR issue (i don’t want to talk about it, i’m failing as a pop culture princess in a major way).

life is so overwhelmingly full right now that i literally have to schedule laundry, but you know what? i couldn’t be happier. and i know that all of it, every single last minute (pronounced “my-noot” instead of “min-it” like the measure of time, silly homophones) blessing has been so graciously bestowed upon me by my incredible Savior.

jeremiah was a bullfrog (was a good friend of mine… i’m sorry but i had to), but he also was a prophet in the old testament. and within his namesake’s chapter in the Bible lies a verse that, though seemingly cliche, has always been a huge comfort for me and my family.

“for i know the plans i have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

and i can’t help but think it all circles back to the same sentiment i captured in a post and published the other day. that for so long i was determined to pen my own life’s book; to the be author of this really really good screenplay of which i’m the lead role. and how that really got me no further than well, 27 chapters (or pages?) of a really really good screenplay of which i’m the lead role. except the fact that no director or production company has yet to offer to pick it up for further execution (wah wah).

and before i get into this weird script/movie metaphor and confuse y’all and even myself, i’ll end with this:

i contemplated on whether or not to even reveal this story, this obvious tooting of my own horn (i mean, i kind of do that a lot, don’t i? so it’s really nothing new), to my flock of loyal followers (and some who may just be stopping by today, and to y’all, i say, “hello! welcome!” come on in and make yourself comfortable!”). but then i realized that when there are exciting things unfolding in the life of my nearest and dearest, and even some not as near and dear, i want to know about it. it brings me great joy to share in the triumphs of others; to offer high fives, fist pumps, and happy dances in celebration of another manifested blessing. so with that said, i thought maybe you’d like to join me on this happy train to “how is this my life?”-ville. because i’d love to have the company and well, if you play your cards right, perhaps you, too, could be my plus one to some of the city’s most fabulous restaurants. i am not above bribery, apparently.

so dream big. and pray hard. and God is going to fulfill those dreams and answer those prayers, or He may just blow them both right out of the water with something new entirely. either way, take a cue from jeremiah and be affirmed in the fact that the Lord has a plan and a purpose for your life; it is bigger and better and more awesome than anything you could have originally thought and simply knowing this alone will give you the hope, strength, and patience to leave the future-writing to Him from now on.

besides, His handwriting probably looks WAY better than yours (i imagine it to be calligraphy-esque). just saying.

p.s. like the entrees at local habit, the food was indeed documented at sabuku sushi night and at miguel’s cocina as well, and it would be a travesty not to expose you to these culinary mugshots…

one of many plates consumed.

halibut, miguel's cocina style.

you’re welcome.

p.s.s. this whole writing recaps of my culinary adventures has also played an integral part in the reason for my semi-blogging hiatus. i feel much better now that y’all know the reason for my neglect. it really isn’t you, it’s me. hopefully i’ll hire a clown who can teach me how to juggle all of these balls i currently have flying around in the air above me (there are so many jokes, but i will refrain). but until then, i’ll keep posting what i’m wearing (whoops, not today!) and i’ll check back in when i have a really funny story to tell. or a story about how i ugly cried because that seems to hold some entertainment value, too. love y’all. mean it.

white lace culottes: anthropologie sale (similar) | orange flutter-sleeve tee: anthropologie sale | brown braided belt: h&m (similar) | brown & teal wedges: bcbg via tj maxx (similar in different colors) | gold medallion: gifted

pink skinny cords: ann taylor loft (similar) | blue lace tee: j.crew sale | gold glitter flats: caparros via zappos.com | navy & straw bucket hat: target | brown belt with texas-sized belt buckle: abercrombie & fitch

i mean, i am well aware of the fact that my time dedicated to shawnaleeann.com has been cut back drastically over the past few weeks. i promise have a really good excuse (yes, this excuse is in addition to the fact that my dating life has seen a vast improvement, as in, i actually have one these days) which i will hopefully cleverly and creatively compose in a post this evening for exposure on tjnt&rs (sometimes acronyms just don’t work, this would be one of those times). stay tuned.

in the meantime, here’s a gratuitous shot of my momma and me from yesterday. it’s okay to say it (we’re already all thinking it), she’s a total babe.

love y’all. mean it.

i’ve told you before that my high school experience was well, unique, right? that spending your formative years with a mere 85 fellow students can make for some interesting times. but despite the fact that we were one big dysfunctional family, i wouldn’t have traded those memories for the world. mostly because our school had some pretty awesome traditions that just wouldn’t be possible if implemented in a public school four, five, six times the size.

one of these so-called “traditions” is the mother/daughter tea held in the spring semester. junior and senior girls are invited to attend with their mothers for an afternoon of crudites and crying. yes you read that correctly, CRYING. as in ugly crying, the kind of sobbing that includes convulsing and eyes so red and puffy any passerby would swear you had just had an allergic reaction to shellfish (think will smith in hitch).

and don’t get me wrong, this fancy little function is always a fabulous occasion overall. usually held in a local country club’s banquet hall, it’s totally the type of outing you look forward to going to if only for the fact that there are unlimited petit fours at your fingertips and an excuse to go shopping for a new sundress is completely warranted. but aside from all of that, for the senior girls in the room,

or maybe just me,

it’s kind of the most emotionally draining afternoon i have ever had in my entire life. ENTIRE life.

because as tradition states,

and we are NEVER ones to break tradition,

this afternoon is dedicated to essentially saying goodbye/thankyou/what in the world am i ever going to do without you? to our mothers as we embark on our journey from the nest and into the cruel hands of the real world. actually scratch that, the “real world” came four (er, three) years later. i was off to pepperdine, there wasn’t really anything “cruel” about that. except maybe the traffic on the 405.

but i digress.

side note: junior girls are invited to simply “experience” the mother/daughter tea in hopes that they glean insight for their participation in the festivities the following year. they don’t actually have to read anything or address their mothers (who are also invited, i’d assume to also prepare themselves for the emotional battle that is to come) in any way -it is important to keep this in mind as i finish the rest of this “side note” (which is basically a ”side novel”). i, myself, (as did my momma) attended as a junior and well, let’s just say, that might have been the second most emotionally exhausting afternoon of my life. yep, that was me. the girl sitting in the front row squeaking out yelps as i tried to stifle my sobbing. it got so bad that my mom looked at me at one point during the course of the afternoon and asked me if i needed to excuse myself so as to not interrupt the rest of the presentations. i politely declined and tried to pull myself together. it was a big hot mess. I WAS a big hot mess. and yes, though i knew and loved the girls in the class ahead of me, i didn’t have super strong ties with any of them or their mothers, so basically i was crying uncontrollably at strangers’ stories about how their mothers were the most influential people in their lives and how they wouldn’t be half the woman they were today without their guidance and affections.

it was as if i was trapped in my own personal hallmark commercial.

or that one google commercial where the dad writes emails to his daughter throughout her childhood. you know, this one:

i vividly remember sitting in the car with my mom after the tea had concluded, my eyes swollen, mascara-stained tears clung to my cheeks. and as we pulled out of the parking lot of the country club she matter-of-factly stated, “i have no idea how you’re going to do this next year.” and despite being physically spent from about three hours of straight sobbing, i managed to muster out, “i have no idea, either.”

fast forward a year. i was now a senior and though the locale of the tea had moved from one country club to another (does that sound as pretentious as i think it does?), the sentiments were the same. the letter had been written. and now it was my time to share it. the podium stared back at me with its haughty mahogany. mocking me. and rightly so. it was my worst nightmare -public speaking, not just that, public speaking from the heart with a speech stitched together with the fabric of my insides to the woman who i loved more than anything else in this world. and did i mention i’m extremely prone to bouts of crippling emotion? yeah, i think i made that pretty clear, too.

but at least i was in a really fun and flouncy party dress. (and yes, i can remember exactly what i was wearing. it was a tea-length (tea-length at a tea! i’d like to think i was that clever but no, the dress hem was not dictated by the details of the event that afternoon) hot pink dress with, SHOCKER, black polka dots. it was 2003 and that whole 40′s inspired look had made a comeback. funny, i feel like it makes a come back every year. or maybe just now that mad men is a thing. and before you get on me about the fact that mm is set in the 60′s, let me say this, there are quite a lot of the female fashions on that show that i would equate with the 40′s in addition to the time frame 20 years later. just sayin’.

but seriously, this digression.

we were advised that we would present in alphabetical order, which meant that i had half of the alphabet (one of the perks of being an “n”) to get it together before it was my turn at the mike. and though some of the speeches were extremely heartfelt and worthy of tears, i was too nervous to cry. it was as if all of my tears were building up for release during my address (p.s. doesn’t “address” evoke something really really important, like the “state of the union address?” apparently i think quite highly of my speech to place it in that high of caliber of a category. yep, that’s about right). i remember thinking, come on ducts, can i at least have a few steady streams so as to alleviate some of this back-logged saline? but despite my best efforts, when it was finally time for my letter to be read aloud, my nose twitched with anticipation, and upon the utterance of the first word, i knew was a goner. cue the floodgates in three, two…

i immediately burst into the ugliest cry there ever was (lofty statement-town, population: me), and as i stood there channelling ever ounce of composure i could possibly muster, the room fell silent. my raw emotion was visceral. but thankfully i couldn’t help but feel comforted by the absence of noise around me. it was as if, for that fleeting moment, every single mother and daughter in that room understood the reason for my blubbering state. because it was common knowledge that my bond with my momma was special. that in addition to being the best mother that a gal could ask for, she was, my very best friend. so you know, you try composing yourself when 18 years of gratitude is supposed to be conveyed in a succinct 8 1/2 X 11 piece of paper.

yeah.

after about a minute of attempting to start and restart reading my letter aloud, i finally took a deep breath and attempted for try number 547. and then i made the mistake of looking out into the room and to the very table where my mother sat, and as soon as her eyes caught mine, the cycle unfolded all over again. more tears. more hiccups. more delay. so in typical “me” fashion, i eased the crowd with sarcasm and concluded that i would refrain from direct eye contact with the lady of the hour for fear that my presentation would last the duration of the afternoon (you’d be surprised how long it takes to compose yourself after each mini-break down).

and though looking off into the distance as i read a very personal message to my mother (instead of actually looking at my mother) might have seemed inauthentic, trust me, it was the ONLY way i was making it through that speech. the ONLY way.

and thankfully for me, i had sprinkled my letter with inside jokes and witty remarks in hopes that the laughs would be a welcomed break from all of the tears. and it worked, for a time. but then would come a sentence that shot me back to my knees. but as i attempted to push through; my vision now blurred by the tiny pools of tears that had taken temporary ownership of my eyes, i couldn’t help but notice that for once, i wasn’t the only one fostering baby orbital waterfalls and somehow knowing we were all in it together -this emotional roller coaster of mine -made the final stanzas flow from me with unprecedented poise.  and just like that, i was finished, and for a moment, i could breathe again.

and i’ve tried really hard to track down the collection of words that were read aloud that day, but the passage of nine years hasn’t warranted a quick discovery. i do recall, however, that the opening line required me to scream my high school nickname at the top of my lungs as i described a day in the life of the high school-version of yours truly (spoiler alert: she’s not much different than the almost late-20′s (<–gulp!) version, except the former certainly had longer (and better) hair). i also remember mentioning that i would miss both my mother’s signature dinner of turkey burgers (yeah, this one time i was a fan of poultry), top ramen & cabbage salad, and roasted red potatoes, as well as, well really, all of the simple pleasures that come with living with your rents (i know, there are actually more pros than you think) -like free laundry (never mind the fact that i may or may not have taken advantage of this while in college, too) or unlimited paper products (hello, one of the most annoying things about adulthood is [peyton] manning up and having to use your expendable income on items like toilet paper and paper towels), or you know, just free food in general. 

but maybe the thing i can recall most vividly with regards to the contents of that note was the fact that it emphasized and reemphasized not only how much i would miss my best friend in the whole world but also, and maybe more importantly, of how incredibly grateful i was for her countless sacrifices and unconditional love over the years.

and perhaps at this pause in the story you’re thinking to yourself,

“self? why is she divulging all of this with us? wouldn’t these thoughts be better expressed in privacy of a hallmark card or something?”

well, selfs (ok, ok, it’s actually “selves”) out there, you’re probably right.

but can you imagine me trying to fit all of this into a 4X6 paper card? even with employing my super stealth baby font there is still no way that all of this voraciousness would be fittin’ up in there.

and since momma reads this blog on the regular, by posting all of this on here, it’s kind of just killing two birds with one stone.

and maybe i’m just that selfish that i want y’all to know just how amazing my mother really is. but if you’ve met her, then, you’re well aware of that already.

you know those kids who say, “guys, i have the best mom in the world.” and then everyone rolls their eyes and says, “yeah, yeah, SURE she is” when deep down inside they know that’s too lofty of a statement to actually hold merit.

well i’m that kid, telling y’all that i really do have the best mom in the world. except this time i’m not exaggerating. i’ve met a lot of mommas over the course of my lifetime and no disrespect to them, but i can’t help but think mine really does outrank the rest.

to know her is to instantly love her.

to know her is to also think she may or may not drink copious amounts of caffeine on a daily basis. (not really, she just has that much energy; i know, i’m still not quite sure where it comes from, either).

to know her is to realize that despite her petite frame, inside that chest is the heart of someone five times her size.

and finally to know her is to know that without a shadow of a doubt, she will forever be your biggest fan, loudest cheerleader, most savvy bargain shopping buddy, and devoted friend.

to know her is to wish she was your mom, too (it’s okay, i don’t mind sharing).

momma,

it has been nine years since i wrote and delivered that speech in the banquet hall of lomas santa fe country club just a handful of weeks before my high school graduation. and despite the passage of time, hairstyles, and boyfriends (me, not you, obviously), every single sentiment remains. you are still my very best friend. i am still grateful for every sacrifice you’ve made in my name. and i know that no matter how old i get, there will never be a situation too grave that a hug and a kiss from you can’t instantly amend.

i love you to the moon and back.

always,

your little loulee

red pants: anthropologie sale (similar) | grey striped shirt: j.crew oulet (similar) | black rose belt: anthropologie (gifted) | black peep-toe wedges: ann taylor loft (similar) | pearl & gold chain necklace; j.crew sale

in other news, parenthood got renewed for a fourth season! i’ll see you, braverman clan, in september.

green maxi skirt: anthropologie sale | cranberry tee: gap (similar) | bling bib necklace: spike the punch etsy shop | brown braided belt: h&m | leopard wedges: payless shoe source

i feel like this outfit screams little house on the prairie meets sex and the city (the “carrie wears her hair wavy” years). and i can’t help but to feel as though that sentiment alone is a metaphor for my life. happy friday eve, y’all.