Help Sienna Fill The World With Beauty

Friends,

I will get back to hemming and hawing about my own non-important drivel soon, but today I implore to you read about, and if you can, help Sienna.

Sienna is a cherubic blonde toddler diagnosed with F.O.P just a month after her second birthday.  F.O.P is an extremely rare and debilitating medical condition where bone forms in muscles and other soft tissues of the body which can restrict movement. For those of you with small children, can you imagine keeping their movements restricted??
Unfortunately Sienna was no diagnosed until she experienced several months of flare-ups, starting at 20 months.

Take a look at this little doll and if you can find it in your hearts {and wallets} please give a little something to help Sienna and the others who suffer from F.O.P have a chance.

After all, 'tis the season...

{help sienna here}
xoxo

Greetings From The See-Saw

And by "see-saw" I mean "the insanity of my inner-brain."

I've always been a very analytical person.  Most writers are.  But in the past year I've become overly-analytical.  Hyper analytical, if you will.  

Why?  Well, I'm an information whore.  I need facts, details and to gather as much knowledge as possible about any situation I am in or have concern over.  

I've boiled it down to one basic thing:  

com·mu·ni·ca·tion

noun\kə-ˌmyü-nə-ˈkā-shən\:

1  : an act or instance of transmitting

2

a : information transmitted or conveyed

b : a verbal or written message

3

a : a process by which information is exchanged between individuals through a common system of symbols, signs, or behavior <the function of pheromones in insectcommunication>; also : exchange of information

When Lindsey doesnt get enough of this, she does not do very well.  

She goes into her own head. Very very deep into it.

And apparently, she starts to talk in 3rd person.

And drive herself, and most of her friends/co-workers, insane.

I usually allow this insanity to play out for a brief period of time, after all an imagination is a terrible thing to waste.  Then, I try to ground myself by facing the fact that I am probably inventing a lot of things and nothing has anything to do with me.  And lastly, I always come back to this story my dear friend D once shared with me.  

I will now share it with you.

Her Diary/His Diary

Her Diary

Tonight, I thought my husband was acting weird.

We had made plans to meet at a bar to have a drink. I was shopping with my friends all day long, so I thought he was upset at the fact that I was a bit late, but he made no comment on it. Conversation wasn't flowing, so I suggested that we go somewhere quiet so we could talk. He agreed, but he didn't say much. I asked him what was wrong. He said, 'Nothing' I asked him if it was my fault that he was upset. He said he wasn't upset, that it had nothing to do with me, and not to worry about it.

On the way home, I told him that I loved him. He smiled slightly, and kept driving. I can't explain his behavior. I don't know why he didn't say, 'I love you, too.'

When we got home, I felt as if I had lost him completely, as if he wanted nothing to do with me anymore. He just sat there quietly, and watched TV. He continued to seem distant and absent.Finally, with silence all around us, I decided to go to bed.

About 15 minutes later, he came to bed. To my surprise, he responded to my caress, and we made love. But I still felt that he was distracted, and his thoughts were somewhere else. He fell asleep -I cried.

I don't know what to do. I'm almost sure that his thoughts are with someone else. My life is a disaster.

His Diary

Couldn't get the boat engine to start today, but at least I got laid.

And there you have it.  

I hope this helps all of you get off the see-saw time and time again.

Love Is A Merry-Go-Round.

A merry go round that ain’t always very merry.

Round and round we go.   Will we stop? We never know.

Same shit, different time.

Different day.

Different guy.

One minute you’re elated.

The next, fairly certain you might vomit.

Then, you’re exhilarated. “OMGEE THIS IS THE BEST RIDE EVERRRRR!”

Followed immediately by, “I’m scared, how the hell did we get here, get me the fuck off this fucking ride surely designed by the spawn of satan.”

Repeat. In cycles. Dizzy, dizzy cycles.

Me (to self): “Why do I keep getting on this thing?”

Why do we keep thinking the ride might be different this time? 

Sure, it’s in a different location.  And this merry-go-round is RED.  Our last one was blue.  Hell-O.  Like, soo different. Duh.

And it IS different.  Until it isn’t.  And then it is again.  I think?

Oh wait- am I just going around in circles here?

Somebody stop me. 

Stop the ride.

Stop it all.

I squint my eyes and wait for the spinning to cease.  The nausea to scram. My appetite to return.  And hopefully when it does, it only wants kale and nuts.  Why can't I ever just crave KALE??

But we still hold out hope.  We have to believe that maybe this turn, this ride is going to take us to a new place. 

And, if the stars align and luck wins out, we get to graduate to the next level.

I’ll see you on the see-saw. 

Back by popular demand

Well hello, hello blogosphereicals! 

I know. I know.  Where the hell have I been?

Thanks to all of you that wrote comments asking me to come back.  The 8 of you are really sweet. ;)

The truth is, I’ve missed you all. 

Missed writing. 

But Lindsey was in a reeeal dark place for a lil’ bit back there.  I guess having your first real heartbreak at 34 can stir some shit up.  Cause lemme tell you, that shit was stirred and stirred good!

I began to question EVERYTHING.

My life.

My job.

Where I lived.

My hair color (should I dye it? It’s still natural. And one of the only natural things I have left?)

My job. Yes, again. 

Should I get a dog?

My job. Again again.

Are all my jeans hitting my legs in an odd place and no one is telling me??

And so on…

Not to mention I had the post of being my sister’s Maid Of Honor (and sole wedding party member). So, in the midst of my Goth period, I had to plan a bachelorette lakehouse party for 12 in Austin, play mediator between my mom and sister, help with things for the wedding [like the song my sister wanted me to sing as a surprise—NO PRESSURE].  Write a speech for my only sibling {even less pressure}, find a dress, fight with my mom, and still try to go to work.

My ex bf Champ also decided to re-emerge during that time, calling for a truce and apologizing for being angry at me for TWO years when he realizes I was just “doing what I needed to do.”  We ended up meeting for dinner.  It did not go amazingly.

Then I got home to some Dad-issues (that have since been resolved).

And maybe I also, in a fit of insanity, agreed to let a Brit guy I met on my last work trip to London come to stay in my shoebox with me. FOR A WHOLE WEEK. And play tour guide to all things New York/American. I'm super smart sometimes.

Luckily, I also took the entire month of August off. You know, for mental sanity/not hurtling myself off my office balcony whislt crying “carpe diem!”  Or just whilst crying. Which I did. A LOT.  

And, somewhere in there, during one particular "why am I here again?" day at work, I decided to force myself to get back on Match.com.

See, I had been dating. Many guys.  None of whom weren’t 27. Or 28.  And I was over it.  But where the crap were the AA guys? 

Some ideas:

NO WHERE.

Invisible.

Gay.

Taken.

Hiding.

Hiding under a douche boulder.

In Boulder.

In Brookland.

In my imagination.

So I decided to give Match another try, only this time with rules: 

No meeting a guy unless I feel very good about his pics (in terms of “Am I attracted to you?”) and just as impornatly, do we have good chemistry via email/text or talking banter?  No to either is a no-go.  

The usual list of Dungeons and Dragons freaks, hobbits and grandpappys hit me up right off the bat.  But, once again, I went people shopping.  And, lucky lucky me.  I found Ole Miss. 

Who is  now (drumroll)……..my boyfriend.

That’s right.  I have a straight-up-now-tell-me BF.   

And he is maybe the best guy I have ever met.  I knew it from the beginning.  It took me awhile to leggo my Eggo and really fall in.  But fall I have. Or at least tripped and stumbled, Lindsey-style. 
I’m totally smitten, to the point I may very easily end up sinking my own battleship.  But I’m trying very hard to get out of my head, and stay out of it.

It’s been a solid 4 mos and we’re about to spend together:

-Both birthdays {Dec Sag twinsies!}

-Christmas with his fam in the New York area

-New Year’s in Colorado with my sis, hubs and friends

(not to mention a decent amount of money. Holiday travel—am I right?!)

"What does this mean for us readers?" you're undoubtedly asking. 

Well, I still have some pretty good stories from the past few months that my depressed fingers just couldn't seem to type out.  So maybe those will come up.

And, maybe I'll just write.  About what the hell ever.  And you can tell me if it sucks or not.  

IRREGARDLESS [not a word], today I give thanks for all of you and your support. 

To my amazing family.  

My fabulous friends, all from different ways and walks but all such incredible people I can’t believe how blessed I am.

And, for Ole Miss.

Everyone, please say a little prayer.  And feel free to have it start like this:

Please. Don’t f*k this up, Lindsey!

gobble gobble, y'all.

odilsezenmetin

odilsezenmetin..

Don't Call It A Comeback...

Hello, amazingly patient and understanding blog readers [if I do, in fact, still have any of you.]


I'm Back.


"oh sure, Lindsey. Sure you are.  We're not falling for this again."


Right. I get it. But lemme tell you, it's been one shit-hurricane of a few months!  Yeeehaw.  I can't believe I even still have motor skills. 
I digress.
I'd like to start blogging again.  That is, if you'll keep reading?
I've actually had quite a few misadventures in the past few months and am working on writing a funny one right now.  So, it's going to be a gradual, step-by-step-Goose n' soda-in-hand kind of comeback.


BUT.


In my blog absence, I've been hugely into Instagram.  In fact, I rarely use the Facebooks these days.  So if you've managed to find me [all you Nancy Drews out there!] that's probably why I haven't friended you.  I hate it.
But 'the instas?' We LOVE.  So, I'd love it if you wanna follow me.
@linzfaryl is my name.
And, I'm attaching below a sampling of my fave instas (so hard to pick a few!) from the last few months.
Enjoy and I'll see you reeeal soon with the juice!

"Sexy Sue Goes to London"

"MIM commandeers our 'luxury' boat"

"Corn Man"

"Ad Prom"

"Untitled"

"The 1am Bacon Sammy. With mayo."

"Hey Lady"

"Rooftop Jammin' with BFWB & Friends"

"Happy 4th! Eat sand and die."

"Betrothed Sister Toast"

"Too much laughing, not enough oxygen"

"Pork knuckle"

"Backstage at 'Watch What Happens LIVE"

"Arsty as Fuck"

"Irish"

"When Guys Tell You How To Pose"

"You say tomato..."

"Tracking Graffiti Art Progress"

"Reacting To MIM's Driving"

"Frisbee for One"

That's it for now, sugarcakes! Hope you enjoyed and see y'all soon! 

Passover in the Lonestar State

I just got the Blogger app on my iPhone so I'm taking her for a test drive!
Hope you liked my Nicaragua post. It made me feel lazy and cranky now that I'm back. Luckily, I have some great stories for you. Unluckily, I'm in San Antonio and The General (aka mom) had commandeered me to do "fun" tasks like peel 10 apples. By. Hand. (pictured). Other fun tasks included going wedding dress shopping with my sister, B.H. Which is awesome, seeing as she doesn't even like wearing NORMAL dresses. Although we did send this pic to her fiancé as "the winner." His remark? "I will rule any kingdom with you." Well-played, sir.
Another fun thing that's happened at home was when my sister, who cycles a lot around her town in Colorado, discovered this helpful article my mom left waiting for her upon arrival.
I. Love. Home.

Ps- where are these pics even going to end up and in what order? Blogger app: FAIL.

Good luck deciphering. And stay tuned for my next MisAdventure. It's a good'n!

Happy holidays, lovelies!

My MisAdventures in the Third World

That's right. As in Nicaragua.

Last year, I was frustrated. I saw all my best friends taking these amazing yearly trips with their significant others-- Guatemala, Turks and Caicos, Bali...and I was mega jealous. I looove to travel, I finally have the means to do it, and I was sick of waiting for a dude to do it with. Then, S-bomb (fka "Tita Sue") popped up last summer and said, "Yo. Wanna go to surf and yoga camp in Nicaragua next spring?" 
Me: "Yep."
Done and done.
Our awesome friend Ruth had put together the whole thing and, when I'm not in charge, I just go with it. Plus, due to my hectic schedule I just hadn't bothered to do any research other than looking at the packing list [and then forgetting half of it]. I hurtled myself on a plane a few weeks ago and off I went to Managua. With a raging sinus infection, I might add. [Bonus!]
I got off into 90 degree weather feeling kinda crappy but was greeted by my nice driver.  I got into his car and asked "¿Cuantos minutos al Coco Loco?" (how many minutes to hotel Coco Loco?) His answer: "Dos horas y media." 
Umm...2.5 hours??? 
¡Dios mio!
This is where some research would have prepped me for that. Oopsie.
But I slept most of the way there and enjoyed the ride.  I got there at sunset, just in time for the rest of the girls to greet me. I was a day late because I had stayed to go to a wedding with you-know-who. [Good idea at the time.]
Anyway- 
S-bomb was there to show me our cabin and the lay of the land.  It was far more rustic than I had anticipated, however, as I adapted, I realized it was a very NICE rustic. Extremely well taken care of, with sprawling grounds and gorgeous views of the ocean.

The biggest shock: 

The outhouse.

But wait- let's back that booty up a sec.

El Coco Loco is a beautiful and unique  

place that is eco-friendly. Which is very intelligent in a country where the power just randomly goes out for a few hours every now and again. Now, I've used an outdoor toilet before. However not one that has no water and doesn't flush. Nope, this baby is straight up COMPOST. 
Yes, kind of a shock at first (once again, lack of research + idiocy on my part). Until you later realize it's the least smelly bathroom you've ever used! 
And how brilliant to feel like your waste is not going to waste! [hee hee]. Plus the staff and people that run the joint are just top-notch. Lovely people who aren't just beach bums-- no no, my friends. This lot is extra-amazing and not just because they're all pretty easy on the ojos. But they are committed to giving back to the community.  Not only can they drive down the dirt road and address all the local neighbors (and their roosters) by name, but they have done amazing things like BUILD A SCHOOL and give the area children a place to play and learn 2x a week, all through their Waves Of Hope program.  Totally awesome. Completely inspiring.
Speaking of inspiring, did I mention that I SURFED??!?! 
Talk about things I filed in the "probably never able to do" category! But when you have an incredible teacher and support crew, I guess anything is possible. 
Enter: Holly Beck

Surf instructor extraordinaire, Holly, is the one who puts the whole enchilada together. Her surf and yoga retreats, Suave Dulce, offer women (and the occasional dude) a unique adventure that allows you to take whatever you want from the experience. Holly is not only funny and California chillaxed, but her calm-yet-thorough style of teaching is undoubtedly what got all of us first-timers (like moi!) up on our boards and actually riding waves. And the chicks who had surfed before saw noticeable changes and improvements in their skills. How could you not from someone who not only teaches but stands on the beach jumping up and down cheering for you when you get up?  I mean really, what could be better than that kind of positive reinforcement?!  Plus, wouldn't you want to take lessons from someone who can do this:

She's got many "circus tricks" as she calls them, but this one was pretty epic to watch. Especially when you're out there trying to figure out how to simply STAND up on the surfboard without breaking your entire body. 
And, even though Holly does pretty much all activities with the amigas, as she refers to us, it's not all fun and games. She takes her role as teacher quite seriously. How so? The first day out, I noticed a video camera set up on the beach. I assumed maybe they took some footage of some good waves for us [assuming we caught them!] and that was part of the whole package. Turns out, Holly  tapes us surfing every day, combs through ALL the video, and then reviews it with each of us individually almost every day at breakfast, so we can see what we're doing wrong, right and areas for improvement. What an amazing tool! That bit of extra effort and care was such an unexpected bonus and greatly appreciated by all. 

Look, Mom! I'm SURFING!

It's Holly, her attitude, the entire vibe of all the staff at El Coco Loco, (shout out to Jamie!) that made this experience so completely unique and wonderful. Oh, and did I mention crazily, epically, FUN?? 

Holly rooting me on as I ride a "giant" in.

Sonny, yours truly, and Holly 

Even our daily yoga class, atop a lofted, breezy cabana with views of the serene ocean just felt like blissful relaxation, as opposed to "exercise." It also helps to have an incredibly rad yoga teacher, like Cydney Gurvich.

Me n' fave Brit chick, Jinx

If you need further proof, see my all-time fave pic from the trip. That's Holly on the right-- perfect herkie and all. Hollaaahh!
Did I mention that the trip also included a little thing called VOLCANO BOARDING? 
Apparently, it's #2 on CNN's "bucket list." You basically hike your ass up a 1,000ft volcano, Cierra Negro, whilst carrying your board [think: sled]. Once at the top, dressed like a crazy, shrouded Hazmat scientist, you proceed to sled down. 

Me n' the amigas at the base...
before we knew what we were in for.

Sunday driver.

For some, as fast as possible.  A dude at the bottom is actually holding a radar gun so you can know how fast you're going. The record is 87mph. I somehow got stuck and went a whopping 10mph. [Ugh]. However the ever-adventurous Holly Beck has made several attempts to break the record. Unfortunately, she ended up breaking her ankle instead. 

This is some serious stuff people!
But what an awesome experience. What a view. What a rush. Well, for some people who went more than 10 mph.[Still bitter]. 
The magical week of what I began referring to as "Adult summer camp" was rounded out by getting to ride horses on the beach at sunset. And, even though I'm from Texas and have ridden many a horse, I've never gotten to RUN on a horse. 
Oh man, what a rush! 

Holly said to wear long socks. I took that memo.

It's windy as a mofo!

Pic by Cydney Gurvich: 
Me & Crazy Eyes Killer

Here I am with my horse. I named him Crazy Eyes Killer. He did not like me. At. All.


So I could keep going on and on about this uniquely special experience, but really--y'all should just go there and experience it for yourselves. I'll leave you with some more pics and a supa' awesome {video} that Holly put together. Too bad vanity has prevented me from posting on Facebook, but I'll let you guys in!

Sonny and her "sturdy" board

The inimitable Holly Beck

Another bit of Cydney's magic!

With mejor amiga, Sue. And, killer dogs.

Amazing French resto, Al Cielo.

Me n' mini Ruth! ummm- Who's pale?

My awesome surf amigas and Coco Loco staff!

Ahhh...Pura Nica!