the secret life of daydreams

wings.

2012-01-16T12:25:00.000-05:00

-anna

happy golden days

2011-12-31T19:27:00.001-05:00

photo by me | may 2011

the blessings of '11 |

And so I reminisced alone this afteroon, on the last day of the year, silently reviewing my life within the past two years. Those happy golden days in this forsaken, this beautiful world. I love looking back and remembering in mental pictures. I love comparing things to how they were then to how they are now. Every detail is vivid and pronounced--the different stages we pass into and through, the fleeting moments, the times that seemed so hard then, the simple things that make everything magnificent. Really, it is not just 2012 I am welcoming--I feel as though I am entering some sort of new dream and a new road in this ever-building climax. The Lord hath dealt bountifully with me and I sense an entirely new "stage" of the "exceedingly abundantly all I could ever ask or think" lying shining and yet undefined before me.

the lessons of '11 |

I love life, and I love the God who answered my prayers, one year ago today, when I asked Him to make my days really have meaning in 2011. But I learned a few lessons as the pages of my book slid more fully open--don't dwell so much on your dreams that you forget to live. Don't plan everything out and run at in blind abondon. Each day is a day closer to death; our future is already here, and we're missing out on it by wanting something better. Focus on today--don't even think of next week, or next month, or next year. I've experieced that it's the most unplanned things that have been the most amazing. Dream on, but don't look at life as a duty, a race against the clock, something to accomplish. Living to the hilt doesn't mean driving yourself mad with needing to do life now. Sometimes the easiest way to live fully is to just be still, stop, listen, breathe.

the highlights of '11 |

--succesfully threw Michaela an epicly huge and complicated surprise 20th party, thanks to the help of loving and willing friends. I had been wanting to have a surprise party for her of some sort a couple years ahead and when the time came, it was...indeed...epic.

--saw my beloved High Kings guys' again in March. And got special hugs. They make me so, so happy.

--was priveleged to see one of my favorite musicals live in April: Les Miserables. I'm sorta geeky with that kind of stuff. =)

--bought a Rebel XSI camera. The first baby step toward my photography ambitions.

--flew in a plane for the first time and saw a massive portion of the US from the air. It was riveting. The trip was my gradutation gift.

--saw Portland, snow capped mountains, the ocean, Disneyland, Hollywood, Beverly Hills/Bell Air/Rodeo Drive, Coranado, and San Diego on formentioned vacation. All firsts, and all what they're cracked up to be. And now the faint white mountain peeks and the starfish and the magic of Disneyland and marriachi bands and sushi and the walk of fame and palm trees and the Spanish costume and the exhilerating ariel views will be indeiblaby stamped on my mind.

--spent time with old and new Oregonian/Washington friends. Attended a REAL Oregon Ball (the ones held by original HSA English Country dancers, FYI,) and danced Marie's Wedding in the McMinnville Ballrooom. It may sound silly to some, but that dance...that Ballroom...those people...stemmed so many good times in my past two years.

--graduated from homeschool high school.

--saw The High Kings three more times. We took the whole family. =) I've seen them five times altogether (brag, brag, brag).

--learned to sew. It was on my list of big-to-dos, so it's kinda important.

--bought my first cell phone. Another thing the list, so yep, kinda important too.

--treated mom and Michaela and myself to Andrea Bocelli in concert. It was spectacular. Yes, we're fans (!!!).

These are merely the obvious highlights of my year. I honestly can't fathom how quickly it's gone by--that I'm once more gearing up for a whole new journey ahead. What will change in the coming year? What will happen? Who will I meet? Where will I go? Whose life might I touch? What can I do for the Lord?

He hath made every thing beautiful in his time: also he hath set the world in their heart, so that no man can find out the work that God maketh from the beginning to the end. -Ecc. 3:11 |

-anna

let it snow

2011-12-07T18:51:00.007-05:00

I can't believe my absurd lack of blogging these past months. To be honest, it's gotten super hard to keep up with--especially as my obsession with blogging is slowly diminishing. But here I am--again--to announce to the world that my November was fabulous, that my December is also fabulous, and that I am perfectly baffled that my doubly fabulous 2011 is almost done and over forever. Only twenty-four days until I say hello to a brand new year.

November. Yeah, it was fabulous. I've drunk a ridiculous amount of coffee. I've flung myself whole heartedly into the strange and glorious world of Narnia (and wondered what it would be like to see the fauns and dryads dancing together at night.) I got my first cell phone, affectionately christened Raoul (win, win, win) and rediscovered my kindred spirit-ness with Peter Pan (no further explanation on that one.) Aside from all that, the new nanny job my sister and I are at is going marvelously--Christmas music began after Thanksgiving--and I went to a Scottish Country dance, a local Handel's Messiah, and an ANDREA BOCELLI CONCERT all in one weekend (where I heard Con Te Partiro live, which means I can now exist forever in pure, undefiled happiness.)

There is so much life to live, it's hard to breathe at times. Writing, coffee, and Christmas music are my fuel right now (all three being extremely stimulating.) I love these boots (I want them, rather), and I love this song... so, so much. And there is nothing quite like the feeling of astounding yourself with your own well-written words. This novel we're working on is totally legit. =)

photo via my phone - hence the poor quality | taken after the andrea bocelli concert

That was most of my life this past month. Bring on the lights, the hot chocolate. Bring on the wintery goodness the craziness of being just plain busy. Bring on the living.

...and bring on the snow. =)

-anna

antiquity

2011-11-10T11:48:00.004-05:00

This is me--wearing the New Look 6909 tweed dress I made recently. I consider these my belated senior photos. =) All photos were taken on my Canon by my sister Michaela.

-anna

october.

2011-11-03T09:39:00.002-04:00

October. It was a good month. And the best part is that I didn't really even intend for it to be so memorable. It was a month full of wind and gold sky, of orange leaves falling outside like rain, of eating apple pie with vanilla ice cream and a ridiculous amount of apple fritters--and apples picked straight off the tree, chock-full of pale-green, juicy glory.

Of a last-minute road trip with good friends to West Virginia, where we reenacted English Country dancing by candlelight on an island mansion. Where the evening sunlight was so molten and thick behind behind acres of ancient trees that you couldn't see where it ended. Where hanging lanterns lighting every walk way and knots of costumed characters made a moonlit night even more bewitching. Where we took a ferry boat ride to and fro on the Ohio river. Where everything was magical and memorable without me having to force it to be.

It was a month full of having a friend over for the weekend and doing a photoshoot with her (sneak peek below). Of feeling completely blessed through our new part time babysitting/nanny job. Of making plans for an upcoming Scottish Country dance. Of watching one of my favorite movies ever for the second time--North and South. Of reading Peter Pan, and recalling how I've always loved that story. Of having a sudden inclination to read old children s classics all the time. Of killing a wolf spider--for the first time ever--and than another the week later--with the dustpan. Of buying an adorable pair of jazz sandals. Of eating cupcakes and pizza bites. Of regretting not being able to do NaNoWriMo for the third year. Of sewing myself a cute little dress. Of feeling so close, so blessed, so thankful to the Lord for His showing me the truth--because there are worse things in life than giving up something you're totally obsessed with, even though it hurts a little at first.

My month was set to this beautiful song--my latest favorite--and while the descprition above does my dear 2011 October little justice, I can rightly say. . .

"I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.

It would be terrible if we just skipped from September to November, wouldn't it?"

| Anne Shirley

-anna

ocean, i miss you (+giveaway winners)

2011-10-19T20:12:00.002-04:00

I've been dwelling on a certain place lately--a place that is like part of my soul. I saw it for the first time this past May--a pure, gorgeous reality to a dream I'd been harboring for a good chunk of my eighteen years. The Pacific was everything, and more, than I ever imagined it could be. Words cannot describe it. Maybe a song could. Or maybe the touch of your finger on a cord of my heart would seep an understanding into your veins of what the sea means to me.

giveaway winners: Ashley (mint resin rose adjustable ring from SizeloveCreations), Amy W. (headband with detachable ribbon and satin flower from JoMazingAccessories), and Sarah G. (butterfly necklace)

Congrats to the winners and thank you to the fabulous ladies who sponsored the giveaway!
please email me with your address at missannaolivia[at]gmail[dot]com

-anna

michaela

2011-10-13T21:51:00.005-04:00

I call it the Shire.

But really, it's nothing more than a little green nook of hanging branches and gleaming underbrush--and beyond it, a field full of golden rods, hemmed in on the farthest corner by dark pines. It's my recently discovered new refuge (I've finally braved to venture there after six years of living in this development), and the only bit of land that's half-way country looking that I have right now, that I can go to when I just need to.

And it's perfect for photo shoots.

I grabbed my Canon Rebel today and took some shots of my sister in "the field" behind our "Shire" in her purple gown. So dramatic.

I love October immensely.

And nice, clear, up close shots.

There's still plenty of time to enter my giveaway!!

-anna

300 followers giveaway

2011-10-11T09:23:00.001-04:00

So, I'm back. And with an extreme disinterest in blogging. So much, in fact, that I may not be blogging as often as I used to. However. My blog has finally--after months of bouncing between 290-95--reached 300 followers. In celebration, I am holding a small giveaway in thanks to YOU, for following, reading, and commenting on my blog. =)

Special thanks to my lovely and generous etsy sponsors who made this giveaway possible!

1. headband with detachable ribbin and black satin flower (two looks)

- from JoMazingAccessories

2. mint resin rose adjustable ring

- from SizeloveCreations

3. butterfly necklace

- from BellaMantra

.read this carefully and place make sure you leave separate comments for each thing you do!

How to Enter:

.follow my blog and leave a comment letting me know.

Extra Entries:

.facebook a link to this giveaway

.tweet about this giveaway

.favorite (on etsy) any of the shop's sponsoring this giveaway

.follow BellaMantra on facebook

.go to each sponsoring shop, come back to this post, and comment telling me what your favorite item is in each one (remember, separate comments for ALL entries, please!)

The giveaway ends October 18th, 2011 at midnight EST. Three winners will be selected. US entrants only.

-anna

bon weekend

2011-09-29T20:39:00.000-04:00

A lovely, autumn-coffee-dancing-and-singing entwined weekend recently marked the 3rd homeschool alumni get together my family and I host yearly. I got to sleep in a log cabin, something my soul always thrills in--discover my sudden addiction to coffee (in any shape or form)--wear the golden yellow Civil War ballgown that we toiled on for a wretched two weeks beforehand--enjoy an adorable talent show--sit on a huge lifeguard chair on a rustic lake-beach--and basically just have a wonderful time amid the peace, the friendship, and the Christian camaraderie that is the Ohio Summer Rendezvous.

Now, a huge photo dump to illustrate the weekend. For some reason I failed to use my camera a single minute during the entire experience, so thankfully I have a few friends with crazy-amazing photo skills who captured everything--and beautifully, too. Photo credit goes to Brandon P. and Hannah Michelle L.

There were games and singing Friday night, which resulted in a whirl of tired, slap happy people collapsing and laughing and stealing chairs and knocking into each other. . .

. . .a good test for our socialization abilities. =)

Oh yes, that little guy wearing the red overalls is Donald, my little sister Lidia's stuffed animal mouse who has someone become the OSR mascot. He's a pretty epic mouse, and also pretty famous. =)

Saturday was the photo scavenger hunt. You and your team have to set out and do whatever the list given tells you, be as creative and original as you can, and photograph each scenario. The team with the highest points wins.

Talent show prep. . .

My lovely sister Julia.

And my sister Lidia. . .

There was no red curtain, but there were skits and songs and comedy and usual talent show amazingness.

My friend Kate sang Taylor the Latte Boy, and my sister Michaela played My Heart Will Go On.

Talent show coordinators Carrie and Hannah. Great job, ladies!

Caleb's Shakespeare skit was awesome. =)

So was my three younger sisters singing Matchmaker from Fiddler on the Roof.

Rachael and Christina and their talented voices and fiddle. . .

And a hilarious rendition of The Uglyfull Princess with Michaela as the maid, Travis as the Princes, Kate as the uglyful princess, Caleb as the mailman, Marissa as the fairy god mother, and Moriah as the narrator. . .

"Oh, my darling. . ."

My gorgeous sister Lidia. . .

And a gorgeous, colorful English Country Dance ball--in keeping with tradition of renaissance homeschoolers. ; )

A sneak peek of my ballgown. . .

Here's me, very red for some unknown reason, and feeling (though perhaps not looking it) like a queen. I love hoop skirts majorly much. ♥ Quite amussingly many people thought I was portraying Belle from Beauty and the Beast ("well, nooo, but I'm a Southern Belle...) ;) Photo by my mom.

All my beautiful younger sisters looking fabulous and grown up in their 18th century costumes my mom made.

Lidia with Donald and his autograph page. Funny guy. . .

Sunday--time to say good-bye. There were girl hugs. . .

. . .and guy hugs.

Co-planners Hannah and Carrie!

I love Pleasant Hill camp. So many happy times, so many beautiful people and things and places and memories. . .

Hi, dad. =)

Michaela (right) and I with our "big" brother Ben, sad to be leaving, getting last minute pics, and eager for next year's OSR.

-anna

the last day of summer

2011-09-22T15:17:00.000-04:00

Yes, I have been absurdly absent from the blogesphere these days--to be honest, all the busyness in my life at the moment is showing me that keeping up with this hobby called blogging is simply not succeeding.

Yes, I had a hectic, fun-filled weekend at the 2011 Ohio Summer Rendezvous, hosted by my family. Yes, I will posting heaps of photos from it very, very soon.

Yes, it's the last day of summer, lazy, partially cloudy, and surprisingly warm.

I have to admit--life overwhelms me sometimes. There are so many beautiful things in it, so much drama, so much mystery, that my heart can hardly contain it all.

Life. Next to Jesus Christ, it's my favorite thing, and I'm sure many of my blog readers have realized by now that it's one of my favorite topics. Life is a thick, riveting novel that is being constantly edited--and you are the character within.

I am looking forward to fall 2011--gaping over the fact that only three months remain before 2012 is upon us--and holding onto to the powerful truth that each day is a day closer to death, that not a single moment should go pointless or be overlooked.

Yes, I have found a sudden love for coffee in any shape or form and the song "Taylor the Latte Boy" all at once. Ironic. =)

Yes, I am addicted to homemade macaroni and cheese. Just sayin'.

how to improve an average day

(a little something I jotted down before bed last night)

.write a handwritten letter

.drink a mocha frappucinno

.go on a walk to pray and think

.write a song-style poem

.cook something

.get personal with your story characters

.act a song or movie scene out by yourself

.stay off the internet

-anna

sincerely, me

2011-09-13T11:50:00.005-04:00

.blog post idea via Carlotta.

Dear Ohio Summer Rendezvous, I am excited for this weekend. I am itching with delight to see the little cabin mom, dad, and my younger sisters are staying in this year--much more interesting and charming than a hotel room, in my humble opinion. I am excited to see Pleasant Hill again, quiet with sunlight dripping through the dome of trees, quiet with the quivering bow string of anticipation about to sever any moment when the first attendee arrives. That strange, beautiful feeling of "I'm back after a whole year" when you return to a place you really love--it's almost like coming home, only it's one big party, a weekend full of new people and old, talent shows and dancing, hot, delicious food and singing by the bonfire late into the night. Enter the homeschool alumni get together my family hosts annually.

Dear Civil War ballgown, you are like a tangible part of a dream. I can't believe I'm going to be wearing this dress in only four days. Thankfully I have a couple of skilled, willing people in this house (aka, mom and Michaela) who helped me make it--so much, I'm afraid--that I feel like my own hands hardly did any individual work in making it a real garment. But I'm trying to remember it was my first huge sewing experience ever, and that I honestly needed help, and could never have finished the project without them. Anne Shirley would passionately approve of the puffed sleeves. Belle from Beauty and the Beast would approve of the color. Scarlett O'Hara would approve of wearing it whilst running down the lawn of Tara, and Christine Daae would approve of melting into it's queenly golden folds in a melodramatic bow atop the Paris Opera House stage. The dress is that outstanding, people.

Dear good idea that came to my head too late--why didn't you come earlier? Now I have to until next year to make you a reality... and until then, you remain a mere idea, a mere plan. But hey, it's your fault for being tardy.

Dear Nick, you're awesome, and I love smooching and snuggling you and glad your mistress Michaela shares you with us. Even though you whine in the middle of the night in your kennel, and start yelping early in the morning when the alarm goes off--leaving me with the frequently-difficult tastk of falling back asleep. But I can forgive you, because you're awfully cute, which makes up for a lot of stuff.

Dear Polo Ralph Lauren, you have some gorgeous clothing, and I can't believe I've deprived myself all these years by not shopping with you--which I honestly would do on a daily basis if I were a millionair. I want to own every single one of your dresses. The ones that are flattering and fit true to size? Yeah, all of them.

Dear Alyssa and Seth, you beautiful fictional twins that my soul has connected with instantly--you make me smile just thinking of you. Well, almost. But I promise you that you shan't die off due to my lack of interest, such as Jace Cahill did with his refusing to cooperate properly with my imagination. I'm going to keep you alive as long as possible and put you in your own novel someday. I promise.

Dear late summer dusks, you are sublime with your faintly-infused-pink skies and low, full, harvest moon and scent of woodsmoke. Please conquer colder weather for just a few more weeks.

Dear dad/baby pictures, the most adoring atom of my being thrives among you. You are a powerful showcase of purity and manly emotions in this upside down world. Thanks to pinterest, I can stare at this one, this one, and this one on a daily basis. Someday I will take pictures like this on my own camera--of my own man with our own babies. Oh, my heart. Be still.

Dear song called My Heart Will Go On, you are my favorite ever. No kidding.

Sincerely, me.

-anna

twitter, etc

2011-09-06T16:56:00.008-04:00

Thanks to a blogger friend Ashley-- I know have these awesome little buttons on my sidebar!

The Secret Life of Daydreams facebook fan page

my twitter page

my pinterest page

SO.

Go follow me, and I'll happily follow you in return. =)

-anna

concerning cake pops and iphones

2011-09-04T14:59:00.007-04:00

Well, it's September. Summer and fall are fighting against each other, and it's hard to tell which is the conqueror. Last night we had another severe thunderstorm, and at 2:00am, I woke up and went into the basement where my mom and three of my sisters were to see if I could get some sleep until the bad weather passed. It ended up that I become too sleepy and comfortable that I stayed there until almost ten in the morning--now, looking outside, it's amazing how yesterday seemed like the middle of a hot, steamy July, and how twenty four hours later it seems like October with still-green leaves. With September here, the point has come in the year where I can now look back and mull and dwell over it's passing. This year has literally slipped through my fingers. My eighteenth year has been my quickest yet--a whirlwind of things I've always dreamed of and of things I've never expected. On this rainy Sunday, in the same month that fall arrives, my heart is full of what life is, and how magical and horrific and confusing and utterly astounding it is.

What I love-- shopping days with mom. Starbucks cake pops for the win. =) They're cute and round and come on a little stick, and I'm pretty much in love with them. My first one was rocky road flavored, and while I guess I'm too dignified yet to try any of Starbucks coffee-related items, I'll admit their sweet stuff is a-mazing.
So is playing around on iPhones and iPads at the Mac store in the mall--I post a facebook status through one of the iPhones every time we stop into the store ('hello from an iPhone! i really wish i could bring this thing home with me!!') I want one so, so much. Sigh. But in the Mac store, it's fun to pretend.
I also want-and-am-in-love-with a certain luscious ivory-lace dress at this store. Since it was too short, and too much money, I'm definitely going to make my own reproduction of it as soon as I can. This store is one of my favorite little boutiques. It's so European, so New York, and the massive amounts of jewelry and shelves of shoes and shiny dark woodwork blend together to create a dazzling, crammed ambiance, with narrow corridors around each display table, low, creamy lighting that offsets the dark wood perfectly, and an all-around cozy, ritzy feeling that I just love.

*via pinterest

Yesterday--I spent a good portion of my evening flat on the floor pinning hundreds of pleats into the skirt of my Civil War gown. It thrills me to think I'm the one who's going to wear this thing--hoop skirt and all--in only two weeks. Eek. ♥ I'm so happy about it. And speaking of historical things, this, my friends, has me in stitches every time.

Ok, so I wanna know-- does anyone have any how-to-make-hair-grow tips? Brownie points to anyone who will comment with some! =)

-anna

my little masterpiece of poetry.

2011-09-01T15:30:00.003-04:00

To tell the truth-- I have never been able to write another decent poem since the day this one came alive under my pen. It's as though all my love for the ocean, for words and for writing, for the magical, for the sky, for the Irish and for Ireland all came together in this mishmash of description and settled there forever like some strange, beautiful burial.

The Maid and the Man and the Sea

Anna Ferrar | 2009

A mystic sky cradles in its reachless arms

The rolling waves, thrashing, anxious

Unraveling in an endless dome

Changelessly, haughtily, sweetly

Of wind and sky

Hemmed by the faded horizon line

Away from the ancient craggy cliffs

Beyond the deathless emerald shores

From the heartless grip of the Irish Sea.

The cold sharp wind wildly waltzing

Taunting the waves, embracing the sky

Tossing the withered umber grasses

Whispers across the unbroken stretch

Of rocky sandy shore washed with rugged color

Drifts a wordless song of sorrow and passion

Flying, falling around

The fragrant heath of rain kissed heather.

Against the lifeless sky stands chiseled

The womanly form of a dreamer

Born by the untamed wind

Born by the glorious sea.

The salt laced breezes rustle the tresses

Faded auburn with raven sheen

The enchanted eyes look forth

From the pure wind blown ivory face

Encircled by dancing ringlets

That sweep round its delicate frame.

Dark clouds hover

Above the mournful waters

Billowing, ominous

Flooding the earth with chasing shadows

A low mutter of thunder and then

The rain comes.

Pounding the restless surf

Bending the peaceful tendrils of grass

Sweeping the fair and beautiful face

Blinding the sparkling maiden eyes.

But the storm, this sudden onslaught

Is powerless to drive her away.

For this is her home,

Her soul

The wild seascape and relentless rains

That anchor her spirit only faster in the trodden soil.

A quick step is heard. . .

Hushed is the rain.

Soft footfalls coming over

The rough and muddy shore.

And a voice calls out.

It reaches her ear with a strange unseen beauty

And the lass, in surprise,

Turns about by the wings of the wind.

This time, no longer only she sees

The timeless barren shore

And natures arms offering only

Her bittersweet alms of heaven

. . .but the figure of a man.

He slows his steps, drawing near

And stops.

Her eyes meet his.

His - clear and near and true, roving brown

Her's bright and curious, a ceaseless sheen of jade.

She holds his gaze unwaveringly

His eyes that caress with unsaid love

With their steadfast luster

That reach her deep within

And he speaks.

What is it that he says to her

As the wind brushes his lips

Lifting his words to the blanket of sky

Who is he

This handsome young stranger

That beckons her back to that dusty high road

That runs down the bluff to the sea

Words sweet and edged with yearning

As the calm September rain

That cause her to follow him

And leave her sea behind?

-anna

enter Mr. Darcy (part 2).

2011-08-29T12:10:00.008-04:00

Here it is, folks... part 2 of "enter Mr. Darcy." A friend of mine have been discussing this issue for several months now, some of it via facebook messaging, and this is my most recent reply-- perfect, I thought, as a part 2 to my previous post. Before you proceed, please read part 1. It's crucial. =)

Hi ----,

Oh, no worries. I'm always delayed with answering messages! I've actually sat down right now to answer some that have been waiting for me!

First let me say-- I really regret posting that blog post. Why? Well, it's true that haste makes waste. I was too quick in posting it and feel now that I didn't convey my point adequately. But anyway. I understand where you're coming from with thinking that "singling out Austen as being the subject of a 'craze' is unfair." I would feel the same about The High Kings or Les Miz. But what I do not understand, basically, is WHY Austen is so popular. Don't get me wrong, the stories are nice, the Regency culture is intriguing... I, for one, absolutely adore Lizzy Bennet (oh, to be like Lizzy!)... but I just do not understand why Austen is so special, and when so many people's reverence for her began. But I'm learning it's just me and my family who feel this way. I like Jane Austen-- I just don't understand WHY she's been made so popular, since I can't find the "tragedy" and power and super-incredible-ness in her works as so many do. She's witty, yes... but you know when the minute something catches your interest, and you're like "oh wow, I love this!" and you can't get enough? It's like a great song you heard for the first time, adored instantly, and had to hop on Youtube right then and there and hear it again, loud and exhilarating as it flows through your earbuds. And then you sing it 24/7, maybe even in your sleep. <--- Yeah. I just have never felt that way about Jane Austen or Pride and Prejudice.

Speaking of "tragedy". Please know that I do not need tragedy in every fictional story. That is ridiculous. And I am also fully aware that guys, in real life, aren't swash buckling and giving their lives at guillotines as they do in the fictional world. That also would be an utterly ridiculous notion if I did. I was :simply and only: comparing those sorts of stories and characters to average, not as interesting (to me) characters such as Darcy and Knightly.

HA-- I think I'm needing to post an "enter Mr. Darcy part 2". Why? Because as I read the book, I am indeed realizing that he has much more of a personality than he's portrayed to have in the films. I had someone refute me on my blog about saying he has no personality, and I stand corrected. I have also come to realize, in the case of Austen "heroes", that they are (Mr. Darcy at least... and Col. Brandon...) heroes of every day life. No guillotines. No swashbuckling adventures. They're just regular Joe's who show good, honorable character. That's how I am beginning to view them, though I still prefer heroes that show the same character while simultaneously performing massive, awesome deeds like Sir Percy and Sydney Carton. It's just a matter of preference.You said: "They're men of principle, if not men of action. And while I do love action heroes, I think in this day and age, the cream of the crop of 'Regency gentlemen' cannot be discarded". I amen that. And of course, I keep in mind that while fictional heroes can be compared and mirrored with real life men, they ARE indeed only fictional. But it is quite interesting to compare them anyway. Which brings to mind... do all these Mr. Darcy-crazy females realize he's :not real:? He may be ideal, to them, and a sublime example of guy in everyday situations with honor and nobility, but do they realize that, UH, he. is. not. REAL?

As far as the girls wanting to marry their own Mr. Darcy's... I've seen some sorry cases. I think it's part of the reason why I've become so contrary.
I'm sure you probably can't understand :my: infatuation with something like Les Miserables. Well, not only does the play have a fabulous, heart stopping score, but the men in Les Miz are exactly the kind of men I like. I hope this doesn't, however, make you perceive that I approve only of guys who climb barricades, kill in battle, ride off on jarring cliff sides in pursuit of their enemies; exceptionally rough and violent men, or something of that insane sort. Because I very much approve of those regular, every day Joe's who can show honor and character without being the typical *outwardly* valiant-- and yes, swashbuckling (it's a fun word ) men that I compare to the tea drinking, coat-tailed, gloved-handed men of Austen.

So you see, it's a personal thing. But I am still befuddled over the thrill of Austen in general. Again, her stories are sweet and timeless, but I just feel the vibe. You know, the hearing-a-song-for-the-first-time-ever-and-falling-head-over-heels-for-it-that -very instant deal. I guess it's just that when it comes to fictional heroes my girly-girl side shows through, and I picture a soldier, a guy in a three cornered hat, a guy with a flag around his waist, a guy on horseback, a guy with a saber at his side. Not Mr. Darcy. Get what I mean?

-anna

snippets

2011-08-26T12:37:00.005-04:00

I have a new love. A new love, and it's summer-perfect. Road side stands, brimming with gorgeous flowers in frilly pinks and soulful purples, baskets and wagons full of juicy peaches, sweet peppers, deep-red tomatoes, and giant watermelons. It's good for the heart of this city girl, especially when the stand is tucked away on a country road with a red barn and cornfields across the street, and an Amish school house in the background. It's peaceful and beautiful, with not a sound or a care for miles. I didn't want to leave it.

My other love... our newest fictional character, Jace Cahill. Michaela and I come up with so may new stories, so many new and interesting characters all the time, it's ridiculous. But even if we never get their sagas on paper, it's a mysterious, beautiful world to have made-up people living inside your head 24/7. Jace, a nineteen-year-old Confederate soldier, is not as unique as René is, but he's terribly entrancing with his celestial blue eye and developing story full of the dramas of the Civil War war-- things that thrill my writers spirit. I approve of his awesomeness.

The last of my loves-- which could more appropriately dubbed "addictions": pinterest.com (FOLLOW ME!) and chocolate chip cookies with potato chips in them. And this place. I. Want. To. Go.

I'm realizing lately that there is also a spiritual busy, much as there is the busyness of life we face everyday. Last weekend mom, Michaela, and myself went to one of Sarah Mally's (author of Before You Meet Prince Charming) Bright Lights conference for two days-- and while I am already familiar with what she teaches, and uphold these convictions and principles of modesty and purity very strongly, it was a wonderful time of being refreshed and encouraged, seeing other like-minded ladies... and, heh, eating a shameful amount of food. =)

My mom is awesome, btw. I was feeling down the other day, and she brought me out for a frozen mocha and some spontaneous shopping. Our local cupcake shop? And the cupcakes within it? That's awesome, too. Especially the yellow-cake one with chocolate chips inside, and chocolate frosting with more chocolate chips on top. Cupcakes win in my book. So does this. Yep, this also is awesome. It's amazing to think that I saw this cast live. Les Miz, I love you.

'Enter Mr. Darcy part 2' is on it's way to being posted, so please check back and comment if you have read part 1.

-anna

the candy shoppe

2011-08-24T13:17:00.001-04:00

So many times, when saying goodnight to your family, you are wished by them to have "sweet dreams". Yet so often we have miserable dreams instead... or don't dream at all, falling into a deep, calm, black sleep until awakened by a new day.

But last night, I learned the true meaning of a "sweet dream".

In my sleep, I suddenly found myself in a dark, not very friendly looking, old fashioned candy shoppe, very deprived of the whimsical stripes and pink stairwell and white-and-black checked floor in the photo below... but covered, from ground to ceiling, in candy. In reality it seems I've been born with a sweet tooth, chocolate being my especial weakness, so I remember mostly chocolate related candies in my dream-- chocolate candies in all it's gooey glory.

{ photo via pinterest }

And here's the best part. Any costumer was allowed to open up any jar or box and liberally help themselves to as much candy as they pleased. Free of charge. Unlimited. I knew I was completely destroying my "diet", but I dug away, stuffing my mouth, roaming among the shelves, eating and eating and eating.

It was heavenly-- just like a scene from Willy Wonka. In fact, I kept annoucing that exact thing in my dream, lost in the depths of a candy-crammed shoppe. It was definitely sweet. ♥

-anna

rally round the flag, boys

2011-08-19T13:38:00.003-04:00

Today, I ate cinnamon rolls for breakfast. Cinnamon rolls have a special place in my heart. Today, I am prepping to leave for a conference mom, Michaela, and myself will be attending for the weekend. We're staying overnight at my grandparents house "on the other side of town"-- this calls for mochas, more food, and Charming Charlie. I hope. Today, I am hoping for another amazing August sunset tonight. Those mystic purple-ish, blue-ish, gray-ish, orange-ish ones. Oh sky, I love you.

Today, my Civil War high continues. On Sunday, another dream of mine came true: I went to my first ever Civil War reenactment. It was everything I had imagined a big Civil War reenactment to be; I was completely in my "history buff" element, as was my camera.

Now, I am more eager than ever to reenact. My envy for all my friends in their exciting far-away states has been increases a thousand fold. =) I am more eager than ever to finish sewing my Civil War gown (though I'm afraid I'll look more like Belle from Beauty and the Beast than anything. Umm...) And more eager than ever to read Gone With the Wind.

Sigh.

I love this era. ♥

Anything history-related gives me chills. From the time I was little, I read history text books for fun and played pioneers or Revolutionary War spies with Michaela. When I 13, I visited Colonial Williamsburg, fell head over heels in love (and have been in love since!) and came home with a desire to decorate my room with revoluionray war flags, copies of the Declaration of Independence, my three cornered hat... yeah. I was a bit insane. Thankfully my room has never undergone such a tom-boy-ish transformation, and it remains pink and frilly and beautiful even though I still love anything that has to do with fifes and drums and the Battle of Bunker Hill. =)

The sky was overcast that day, veiling the valley with violent downpours of rain. The little historical village, so usually quiet and uninteresting, was pulsing and brimming and swelling with the trill of fifes, the smell of wet horses, the sight of tent peeks packed in on every lane. Every kepi, every uniform, every hat pin, every hoop skirt, every strain of the bagpipe on the battle field filled my senses with the reality of the 1860's.

Oh, be still my heart-- the cavalry!

"When I first met you, I thought: there is a girl in a million. She isn't like these other silly little fools who believe in everything their mammas tell them and act on it, no matter how they feel, and conceal all their feelings and desires and little heartbreaks behind a lot of sweet words. I thought: Miss O'Hara is a girl of rare spirit. She knows what she wants and she doesn't mind speaking her mind--or throwing vases."

"This was an inferno of pain and smell and noise and hurry-hurry-hurry! The Yankees are coming! The Yankees are coming!"

"Why was Scarlett O'Hara, the belle of the county, the sheltered pride of Tara, tramping down this rough road almost barefoot? Her little feet were made to dance, not to limp, her tiny slippers to peep daringly from under bright silks, not to collect sharp pebbles and dust. She was born to be pampered and waited upon, and here she was, sick and ragged, driven by hunger to hunt for food in the gardens of her neighbors."

process of the battle in photos:

"The Cause didn't seem sacred to her. The war didn't seem to be a holy affair,

but a nuisance that killed men senselessly and cost money and made luxuries hard to get."

all quotes are from Gone With the Wind, by Margaret Mitchell

-anna

enter Mr. Darcy.

2011-08-11T16:38:00.014-04:00

I watched Pride and Prejudice (1995) for the first time ever last summer and almost instantly formed my opinion-- I disliked Pride and Prejudice and couldn't understand everyone's unmovable attachment to the story, and mostly, to Mr. Darcy. However, after seeing part of the one from 1980, the lovely and light hearted '49 versoin, and the gorgeous albeit faulty film starring Kiera Knightly, it became clear to me that I did like Pride and Prejudice itself after all, but rather, my previous disdain for it had only been an unrealized apathy for Mr. Darcy-- and Mr. Darcy alone.

"You don't understand Darcy."

I'm told this all the time, and it's absolutely false-- false, that is, after finally having some friends explain Darcy to me in a way that it actually made sense. So while I do understand Darcy in a positive light, and am ever willing to understand him more, my personal belief remains: Mr. Darcy is overrated. Sure, it was noble and heroic of him to set two sinners straight... to be a man and stand up for what's right... for possessing his sweet love toward his sister. Like most Austen men, he was honorable and good. But oh so un-thrilling. Loving a woman in not an act of heroism. And that's all Austen is about. Love. No harrowing experiences, no tragedy, no reality. Just love, and fluff, and who likes who and who dislike who and who hosts more English Country Dance balls and who doesn't. It frustrates me to no end.

of heart, passion, and soul.

I'm really proud of the acting skills of Matthew McFayden and Colin Firth-- they portrayed Darcy sublimely. No heart, no passion, no soul. Because that's precisely who Darcy is... totally opposite of the love sick, melodramatic hero of a what a fictional classic is and should be. Typically, I am unimpressed by Austen men, and bemoan the fact that the bad guys have all the good qualities-- think of Willoughy with that gorgeous vivacious, colorful spirit of his- while Edward Ferrars is timid and bumbling. Mr. Darcy, for one, as almost zero personality; I mean, Gilbert Blythe is more interesting than he. I'm picturing Matthew McFayden at the end of the 2005 film, blubbering through his final proposal, asking Lizzy to end his agony, reaffirming his love for her. Romantic words, yet with a sad lack of the drama and fervor of a properly desperate, beseeching proposal of a truly ultimate hero.

it's a Regency thing.

I realize that the Regency theme is going to frame the entire world of Austen in a completely different aspect than the French Revolution would A Tale of Two Cities. For example, in Pride and Prejudice there are no guillotines for Darcy to sacrifice his life on. This is probably why something like North and South so heartily appeals to me-- it was honest, rough, real, and the romance was there, making it a thrilling story. Think for a minute. There are so many other stories that exceed Pride and Prejudice a thousand fold as far as romance and heroic men go-- try Mr. Thornton, Sir Percy Blankeny, or Sydney Carton. When it comes to fiction, I like reality. There can love, their can be fluff and frills and dances, but there has to be... there must be... reality somewhere among the pretty, petty chaos of old fashioned romance. I need excitement, depth, and grit to have a truly gripping and enthralling tale, and have come to the conclusion that the whole Regency fantasy simply does not grab my fancy. I like heroic heroes that are going to do really obviously amazing things, not spend their days gallivanting to dances and sipping tea. I like men that are going to get out there and get dirty and die for their women and make a difference in this world. Pride and Prejudice and anything Jane Austen for that matter is an unrealistic, cotton-candied version of romance, void of the dashing, sword-wielding, fairytale heroes we all grew up with. I like Pride and Prejudice, don't get wrong. But personally, as a girl, it doesn't grab my affections or my infatuation.

Austen-only.

There are hordes of committed Darcy fans and devout Austin-ites. The strongly-influncing winds of Jane Austen that have swept everyone troubles me. The reverence for Darcy is extreme and far fetched to the point of people believing he is the one and only ideal hero and gentlemen in the world of fiction as well as in real life. I think it's a massive downpour of peer pressure among homeschoolers in particular. What has caused it in realms outside of homeschooling, I have no clue, but I observed that the obsession is just as severe.

marry Mr. Darcy?
Girls all want their own Mr. Darcy. But the questions stills stares me bold in the face, and it's a question I'll be grappling until eternity. Why Mr. Darcy? When and where did this trend begin? Why are we taking fictional "heroes" like Austen men, Mr. Darcy, namely, this seriously?

My rant for the day. =) This post is not targeted at anyone personally, but please be courteous in your comments.

-anna

for such a time as this.

2011-08-09T13:02:00.007-04:00

The sky is monotonous these days, typical of a lazy, steamy Ohio summer. The sky is a calm blue, hazy or clear depending on the weather, often painted with cotton candy clouds that fade into a blushing sunset at dusk or a dull gray when blessed with rain. There are apple trees with small, firm green apples on them and cornfields tall and yellow and Queen Ann's lace literally everywhere. These sights are extra special to a girl stuck living in a housing development "with a scope for imagination". Nature in general does that to me. One of the best ways to refocus and breath a little is being among creation. Just the other day I was dreaming of country life, and how fun it would be to make homemade candles, own honey bees, and tend to a huge garden. My feelings about country life have changed drastically over the years. But now, I actually desire it. I want an old worn cow path snaking beneath a canopy of trees and burnished by the sun to walk on in the evenings; an orchard, or a hayloft to retreat to when I'm angry or just blissfully sentimental. The older I've become, the stronger to finally escape to the country becomes, bringing with an idea that is repeatedly confirms itself to my mind: marry a country boy. Not a farm boy, just a country boy. Not someone who's career consists of mucking stall and shearing sheep, but someone who just lives in the country, and does country things (some hay bales and chickens wouldn't bother me at all.) That's novel sounding, isn't it?

It's been a simple summer - my eighteenth summer - which means I've doing a lot of thinking about life and figuring out all the strange, ever changing challenges and wonders it brings. It seems like my year is just starting, yet fall will be here next month. So much has happened, so much has failed. Days fly by, days drag by, yet time never stops. Yet something seems alive in me again. Since last year something has seemed dead, missing, unhappy. Often I find myself in new stages of life, and they usually rotate into a new stage year by year, or by long chunks of my existence. Now I've attained this this "feeling"of not knowing where I am going or life or what do to, who I am or what I want or who I wish to be. But I am learning to be happy in Him; learning the promise and truth behind the words "all things work together to them that love God."

There's so much in my heart. So much I want to say, yet can't sort out my feelings or can't find the words to explain them, but I can say in clear English that "it was happiest when I longed the most... the sweetest thing in all my life has been the longing... to find the place where all the beauty came from". That haunting, plaguing feeling of being so dead for so many months may not have been something ugly after all. It may have just been life itself, and the growing-up process. The longing, to find the place where all the mystery and drama and dry spots and exhilaration and beauty came from, winding and weaving and threading themselves together into one thing: life.

A little bit of advice. Don't try to grow up fast. Don't try to be an adult, to prove your adulthood to your friends, your family, the world. Stay young as long and as much as you can. For me, the journey into adulthood is just beginning - I am not arrived, I have no wisdom - but this time of freedom, of imagination, of singleness, will vanish before your eyes someday. By wishing so hard for our dreams to come true, we forget to live. And that frightens me.

Yes. It's been a simple, quiet summer, not necessarily un-busy, but just with the normal comfortable (albeit sometimes mundane) routine I've always been familiar with. Between the times of our nanny job ending, seeing The High Kings again in concert, and the upcoming homeschool alumni get together my family hosts each September, the gaps have been filled with reading-the-bible-in-a-year, running madly at my to-do (er, must-do) list yet seeming to accomplish nothing (I've realized that trying to make things happen in my timing is unrealistic-- but hey, at least I'm willing to let them happen if they want to....), drinking frozen mochas, remembering that purposefully, intentionally choosing to be happy just because can transform your outlook on everything, and practicing photography on every intricately-crafted, gorgeous flower I came across (awesome bokeh results without knowing much about bokeh = WIN). I love walking into my room at night after the window's been left open to the sound of crickets outside and the smell - so keen, so real, it's almost more like a feeling - that is either of dusk or a summer's night or both wound together. So beautiful.

Today I have an urge to make homemade peach pie. Or a ruffly pink apron. To pick lavender and berries. Visit Texas. Or more realisticly, go to Amish Country again with my family, because it's been ages and ages since we last went. I'm thinking about huge lolipops as I type. Lace and ribbon for my hair. Being in a play someday. The talent show next month (eek). Trips and places I want us to go.

But for now . . .

. . .I am sewing.

Yep, it's true. I hardly know how, yet somehow, by some miricile, am constructing a Civil War gown. It's insane and fun. The fabric is a delicious gold satin and very Scarlett O'Hara-ish. Later on this week I have to hem the thrifted dress I bought recently and do a photoshoot in it - and do a photoshoot with Michaela when her sample eShakti dress arrives in the mail (out comes the wicker chairs and blue cloche hat from Charming Charlie).

I love reprises.

photo #1: 2009 | photo #2: 2011

I had a collosal reading list this year that hasn't really gone anywhere. So far I've only read A Tale of Two Cities, The Count of Monte Cristo, The Scarlett Pimpernell, Cranford... and a couple others, I think. I'm supposed to be reading Ivanhoe right now, and was dragging my brains along through the monotonous, archaic, and just basically unimaginative first few chapters when I threw it down and decided to read Anne of the Island instead. Ah, much better. It's a perfect summer read, people. I love the prettiness and freshness of Lucy Maud's Montgomery's novels. They sweeten my life and warm my heart.

It's county fair season. Our county fair is five minutes away from our house-- so close, we can hear the rev of the motor cross, so far I haven't been in about five years. It's over now, and as we skipped another year of going, I'm banking on a different one instead coming up next month. It's on my bucket list to ride a ferris wheel, and my almost 14 year old sister Julia and I are dying to do it together. We did drive by the fairgrounds one night recently, and the smells of diesal oil and dust mingled with the booming voice over the loud speaker at the grandstand and the glinting, spinning lights of the rides thrilled and inspired me to the point of a new story idea. It's amazing how the smallest things can often be the most sensational.

I'm getting hold of the true meaning of blogging. I want to be a serious blogger, but it's hard work. Harder than it seems, hard to keep up with. Let's insert here, on the subject of blogging, that I've have written a new about me and have fixed up and revised my blog tabs. Go take a look!

-anna

of shamrocks, kings, and claddagh rings

2011-08-04T14:49:00.010-04:00

As I type I am wearing a most fabulous tee shirt. Fabulous because it's kelly green, fabulous because it says "Irish girl at ♥" across the front, fabulous because the ♥ is very appropriately pink. Shirts like this win in my book.

"You don't need Irish in your blood, just in your soul". Neither do you need a single vein of Celtic blood to enjoy Celtic music. But you do need a die hard infatuation with British accents. And fairies. And castles. And the bluest of blue eyes. And glittery-green hills and mist-mantled islands humped here and there in a corner of the Atlantic ocean, scattered and sprinkled with song, story, pixie dust, and ancient folklore.

{photo by me}

A couple weekends ago, we went to the Cleveland Irish Cultural Festival, and it was hideously stereotypical. Ireland is not about red hair and leprechauns, people! If you wanna believe it, than you can have all the red heads and freckles and "top o' the mornin's to ye's" you desire. Me? I'll have the European classiness and charm, the dark hair, the history. The ballads running over with longing and poetry and the echo of wet, chill rain, the stories and legends dripping with bravery and romance and heroes (and heroines, of course.) Let's please ban the American stereotypes of the Irish. Let's please forget about potatoes and little men with beards and pointed shoes and pots of gold at the end of every rainbow. Pleeeeeeeeeease.

{photo by me}

Ok. Proceeding. Despite the fact that the Irish festival was one huge American stereotype, I was, I'll admit, in my element there. We went soley to see the you-know-who's perform, but from the bits of the festival I was able to experience and see and hear and smell, it was absolutely awesome, full of emerald green goodness, bagpipes, shamrocks, claddagh rings... and Kings... most importantly.

Remember this post? Friday was pulsing with wild excitement and an overflowing combination of eagerness and fanship. It had been four months since I'd last seen the my most favorite Irish boys... four months since I'd last seen my all time favorite band in the whole entire universe... and I was itching, itching, itching to hear their accents again, and get hugged by them again, and all that amazingness.

{photos by Hannah Michelle L.}

Our friend Hannah - the gal we took with us to the last concert in March, but who, for this July concert, was going with the Brown's instead (the Brown's being the friends Michaela and I orginally took to our first HK concert ever last August) - swung by our house to pick my sister and I up Friday evening. This arrangement was completely last minute and all-around a thrilling little reality. I donned my blue dress, flip flops, camera, and favorite blue earrings, which although they are all cute together, it was kinda weird to wear all blue to an Irish concert/festival... so thankfully Christina Brown had green necklaces for us girls. =) Yay, green. It's been one of my favorite colors ever since I've become obsessed with Ireland and the Irish. Major side note here.

{photo by Hannah Michelle L.}

Btw, I absolutely just love with atom of my soul the story of how I found about THK.

Massive post on this coming soon.

{all of us girls - photo by Mr. Brown}

The hours before the concert were unbearably long. First we sat for a long time in the gorgeous hotel lobby waiting for the Brown's (coming from PA) who were stuck in traffic. And then we sat even longer in the hotel room with nothing to do expect eat granola bars from Hannah's purse. Finally, at 6:00, it dawned on us. Let's just go to the festival and meet the Brown's later on. The Brown's graciously complied and we were finally off.

But then there was rain. It was a horribly flustering hassle juggling water bottles, umbrellas, tickets, hats, and cameras while trying to order food, not drip wet umbrella's on people's head, try to eat said food (very, very messy and greasy food) with hardly any napkins and... yeah. It was interesting. But there were some random Irish people sitting a few picnic tables behind us generously lent Michaela some napkins after she asked them for some, and left us shrieking and gasping and repeatedly saying after we left the pavilion, "they were Irish! they were really Irish! they were real Irish people! they had accents!" I think Hannah thought we were nuts. =)

{me and Christina - photo by me}

I sat next to my friend Christina during the show. She's just like a little muffin and I like her a lot. I might as well mention right there that both Friday night with Hannah and the Browns and on Sunday with my family, we had front seats through each and every performance. Which is awesome of course. Anyway, we were able to watch another band from Ireland called The Dublin City Ramblers play within the hour before The High Kings. I held the umbrella over and Christina and I because it was raining persistently and clapped, sang along, drunk in the beauty of Irish accents (yes, even accents are charming on little old men) and intentionally screamed and cheered when they mentioned The High Kings. =) It was fun, and their music was bouncy, but the poor guys knew we were waiting impatiently for Brian, Darren, Finbarr, and Martin to come knock them offstage and woo us away with their good looks and good voices. hehe.

It seemed like it would rain all evening until my boys finally showed up in that gazebo. We applauded The Dublin City Ramblers away, and the clouds parted, spilling fresh sunlight over everything and blessing the sky later on with a beautiful sunset. The moment had arrived. Hearing The Town I Loved So Well with the wind in my hair was sensational.

{left - right: Mrs. Brown, Christina, Brian, Hannah, Michaela, Martin, Finbarr, me, Darren, Rachael.}

I was star struck all over again when Darren and Brian came down to say hello to our group before the show. I can never contain myself when I first see them at a concert. It's just like I want to jump all over them and hug them and... well, I'm afraid I really do. It's a joke of ours that I always nearly strangle Brian (aka, hug the poor guy to death) each time I see him, and afterward, I was teasingly "apologizing" about it when he stepped back, spread his arms, and said, "go on, tackle me". I love his humor. Though regretfully I gave in to my stupid side and punched him instead. I have no idea what made me do that. I'm such a meanie. (Seriously, it was all for fun.) Best part is, it's ended up as a joke between us, and now I think we've started some kind of me-punching-Brian-and-him-actually-letting-me tradition.

Another side note here. Brian gave Michaela and I hugs (huggies, he called them), Friday night, especially for us. He makes me smile so much and so big.

{photos of Brian Dunphy by me}

After almost three years of being totally fanatical in my affection for these guys, I honestly can't decide who's my favorite, though for some reason this year I've really been banking on Darren. For your information, Darren is basically the most amazing guy on planet earth. Handsome, incredibly talented, and with the most endearing and engaging and utterly sweet disposition and personality... what's not to love? Plus he has the cutest kids on earth. I would so fly out to Ireland and be their nanny if I could. ;)

{photo by Hannah Michelle L.}

Sunday was calmer, longer, and exceedingly hot and muggy. It was a family day for us. No friends this time, just dad, mom, and us girls. Because a lot of the shows on Saturday had been rained out (we stayed home that day...) things had been moved into a huge horse barn. Increase the mugginess a a thousand fold. It was sweltering in there, smelly, full of flies and dust and misbehaved children that danced and ran and did somersaults and made everyone terribly annoyed. Thankfully that died down when The High Kings took the stage - er, took the barn? It was interesting. Wow, did my boys smoke 'em all. They were the last band to perform Sunday night and they raised that roof to high heaven. Being that there were two concerts that day, I've seen The High Kings 5 times in my lifetime so far.

We were very privileged to see Cherish the Ladies live as well that afternoon before The High Kings performances. I majorly regret that we didn't buy a signed CD from them. Phooey. Their music is grand. So were their Irish-born Riverdance sisters.

{photo of Cherish the Ladies by me}

The boys ate the entire pan of brownies I made them, and before the first concert, Darren came up to us and chatted for a bit and gave all of us shiny black guitar picks (because he's awesome like that.) And I finally got to say hello to Finbarr for the first time on Sunday evening. He's was as sweet and adorable as always. And Martin? Martin makes me laugh and smile so much. We introduced him to mom and he remembered she had sent him a friend request on facebook (what's taken you so long to send them requests, mom?!?!) Mom also got her picture with them (!!!!!!!) as did my three younger sisters.

{photo by my mom}

I went home that night with a whole new stash of memories and beautiful feelings and happy times to stow away inside myself. The ones you can pull out years from now and look back on and just remember.

I love you, HK's. Thanks for pouring so much magic into my life, and for making it so special and unique. Huggies for all of you.

more posts on THK's and Ireland:

.my adopted homeland @ my blog

.HK's in March @ my blog

.HK's official website

-anna

p.s. I am not Irish. At all. Just saying. =)

my life is a kite.

2011-08-01T17:32:00.013-04:00

It's August. It's August, yet it seems like only yesterday I was celebrating my 18th birthday in March. Now, there are only four months left until Christmas. Four months until a new year. It's frightening the way time hurries by, and seemingly, without me.

But August, my friends, is going to be awesome. Fueled by practicing the song a friend and I will be singing for a talent show, by sewing up a storm, by drinking frozen mocha's, by melodramatic everyday moments. ♥

{photo taken of me by my mom}

There were kites yesterday at Lake Erie. Kites bobbing high up above the sand and flung in happy hues of blue and red that dipped and dived like blue jays and cardinals across the summer sky. My life is like a kite these days. I'm a single soul struggling to take flight off the earth, tottering once halfway up, falling again. My colors flicker vibrantly for a moment as they catch the reflection of clouds and sun. Then I falter. I rise again. And finally, altogether, I fall. But life is always like that, when you really think about it. We just never stay afloat long enough. Never long enough to change - to reform - to be. But that's exactly why we fall. Because the harder the fall, the stronger we'll yearn and strive to rise again in the wild blue yonder and fly high and free.

My life is a kite. I'm snatching at the paper tails and hanging on for all it's worth.

-anna

oh happy day

2011-07-22T12:13:00.014-04:00

oh happy day.

I am seeing my favorite Irish guys, my favorite Celtic music group, my favorite friends from across the pond... hugging them and hearing them sing all their crazily-amazing songs, speak with their heart stopping accents... tonight. My family has plans to see them on Sunday, and while those plans are still in place, last minute arrangements have been made for Michaela and I to also go this very Friday evening with some friends. It's left me in quite a state of happy shock.

Almost three years of loving these guys, and I know them personally. It blows my mind every day... every time I'm off to see them live in concert.

In the middle of a steaming, dull July week, everything is happy again. ♥

thehighkings.com

*photo is not mine.

-anna

just a sweet little place.

2011-07-18T11:50:00.004-04:00

Hale Farm and Village is nothing more than a itty bitty living history museum tucked away in a gorgeous Ohio valley. I was five years old the first time I went. Now, we live only about 20 minutes away, and as we've all gotten older we go a lot through the summer. It can get boring unless an event is happening, but I never tire of the ambiance there, the chocolates in the gift shop, and the old lovely transplanted houses. Because... I love anything historical - the word love being an understatement. =)

{ Michaela }

I can imagine so much there.

Just last time we visited, I found René's boarding house bedroom on the second floors of one of a certain stone house. Oh Oh Oh, I just love when novel things are visualized in real life. It's just plain awesome. I'm going to take my fellow-novel-writing friend to see his room when she comes visit Michaela and I... she's just as insane (it's a cute kind of insane, people,) when it comes to self-created, "feels-like-you-know-them-in-person" fictional people. Kindred spirit she is. hehe.

We made a very important discovery last time we were there. There is real live Civil War ball that is held in the open barn behind the church. Next month, in the subtle, delicious month of August. I've always wanted to see the battle reenactment which takes place annually at Hale Farm - but a ball included? I Can't Wait. And I'm also way too ambitious for my own good - folded up in a neat pile in my sewing bag is almost 8 yards of wonderful goldish satin, freshly cut, freshly purchased. Me. Making a Civil War ballgown. Me, who hardly knows how to sew...! I'm laughing at myself.

old fashioned door in the most sublimely rugged color, leading into an old dairy kitchen. . .

I believe that Valjean and Cosette very likely take their tea here. =)

"little white church in the valley"

red barns and inviting fences. . . yessss. ♥

Soon as I find a man, I'm gettin' married in this church. =)

Spinning wheels, red flowers, rustic shutters. Little houses on the prairie. Upside cooking kettles, barrels, and chimney stones. Sunny garden windows and freshly churned butter and Civil War balls darling little piglets - my favorites. ~* It's just a sweet little place.

-anna

halloooo. =]

2011-07-15T11:22:00.013-04:00

Mirror, mirror, mirror on the wall, this is a test post for you all. . .

Is my blog working? Is my comment box functioning?

I'm quite vexed. . . my blog post links I share on facebook were tagged as abusive or spammy. So. I've re-added the verification code to my comments and am considering just deleting my blogs facebook fan page altogether. But my poll? What's up with that?? I had 20 votes on it and it reduced itself down to 13, before people starting voting again. Weiiirrdddd.

Well. I'm off to put together an album of "me in mirrors" photos. I love my cam. ♥ And editing photos galore. And dreaming about civil war balls and costumes and sewing and picking out fabric and talent shows, and bucket lists and daisies and seeing my favorite Irish guys in only 9 days, and masquerades, and adorable fictional people living inside my head, and... yep, life is good.

Ok, don't make your test-comments boring, like: "yeah, I can comment. I can also access your blog" etc. Why not go ahead and tell me what's happening in your life this summer? I wanna hear it!!!!

-anna

If you unable to comment, please take the time to let me know by emailing me: missannaolivia[at]gmail[dot]com

Rodeo Drive | Sushi in Hollywood

2011-07-13T15:26:00.006-04:00

Remember that big vacation dad and Michaela and myself took just this past May? To Oregon, the ocean, Disneyland, and the California mountains? Well here's the blog post covering Rodeo Drive and Hollywood. We began the day's adventure's by parking the shmancyest parking garage I've ever seen. . .

. . .and, after commencing up the ritziest elevator I've ever stepped foot in, we - The Beverley Hillbillies - alongside our uncle/tour guide - entered the famous Rodeo Drive. Which, quite bluntly, I hated.

I'd rather have Ohio countryside over this life of luxury. . .

I'd rather fly down the backroads with my Celtic music streaming through the open windows than amble through streets of palm trees and sports cars, trying to impress. . .

I'd rather rather go barefoot than wear shoes so expinsenve, they bear no price tag in the store window, or perch snobbily on their glass display until the next thinks-she's-a-runway-model woman snatches up a matching pair for her latest $800 purse.

That was Rodeo Drive. One long, clean, sun bleached street, lined with spreading palm trees, scattered with a few other Beverley Hillbillies (aka, tourists,) and strewn with girls strolling through their aristocratic hometown in aforementioned hideous shoes and gaping at the inferiors (aka, tourists) invading their high society.

{Michaela, Uncle Tony, myself}

hi, dad!

Rodeo Drive? No, thank you.

So then we were off to Hollywood - where I bought a new pair of sunglasses at Claire's after... right, loosing my first pair somewhere in the wild depths of Disneyland's Indiana Jones ride. Somewhere in between all this we roamed through the hedge-hidden mansions of Beverly Hills and Bel Air, though I'm afraid I didn't get many pictures as I was dropping in and out of sleep. I did catch a glimpse of the Jonas Brothers home, but that wasn't overly thrilling.

Hollywood is awesomely weird and weirdly awesome. There were countless names of countless actors at the Chinese Theatre, but there were only like, five that I recognized. Names, names, names... scribbled and etched into the stone under my feet in every direction.

Jimmy Stewart. Oh, yes. =)

Les Miz, I love you. These posters guarded Hollywood Blvd for miles upon miles, and had Michaela and I nearly screaming with delight in our fanship. Come to find out, our play-hating uncle is taking our aunt to see it after that. Just sharing the love with everyone, I guess. =)

After the Chinese Theatre, we sat down to The Most Fabulous Sushi I've ever had the honor of enjoying.

Dessert included. Sushi style. No fish was invovled, though.

One of the bestest, tastiest lunches I can remember. It increased my sushi love tenfold.

Italian girls love their nutella, too. ♥ Uh huh.

Welcome to Hollywood!

Lo and behold - we saw the president! and Sarah Palin! and Spiderman and Shrek and Michael Jackson (ick) and... a guy drumming loudly on big plastic buckets. Hollywood is probably the most bizarre place on the face of the earth.

We got our picture with the Andrea Bocelli star. Because we are the biggest fans ever. =)

Good bye, Rodeo and Hollywood. Back to our uncle's house for dinner and Tangled.

-anna

my crazy, adorable, hilarious little sister.

2011-07-08T12:15:00.004-04:00

My littlest sister Lidia is one of my favorite people in the whole wide world.

Her facial expressions crack me up big-time. So does her fanship for Audrey Hepburn, Princess Kate, and Eponine. Popular among MY friends, I smile to think of what it'll be like by the time she's sixteen. Pink dresses and braids are my favorite on her. I ardently believe she'd go far in the show biz with her kind of personalty, charisma, and grace. Especially with those eyes. They get everyone... everyone. =) An amazing little dancer, she's the one who gets all the partners (and grown-up ones, at that) at our English Country dance balls.

I love how she can be a silly kid without being obnoxious and a girly girl without that "I'm the princess, bow down to me" kind of attitude, when really, as the crazy, adorable, hilarious youngest, you'd totally expect both.

She charms literally everyone.

EVERYONE.

A significant amount of happiness is added to my world because of her.

She's true blue. I don't ever want her to grow up. I love you, Liddy!!

-anna

disneyland

2011-07-06T11:24:00.006-04:00

It's a place where your inner kid is awakened. A place where unhappiness is absolutely illegal. A place where magic exists freely, with no adult cares to chase it away. There is so much to do and see, it's mind blowing, and trust me, one day spent there isn't nearly enough.

Every store, every street, every ride... literally, every corner... has something to look at, something to surprise you. Disneyland is like a bit of the dusty, dry land of Southern California that was streaked and brushed and stroked over with one giant paint brush, one fistful of pixie dust, one finger-flick of transformation. You can feel the aliveness in that park, in the lollipop-carousal-Cinderella-filled air. If you have no room for wonder or imagination, then stay beyond the entrance gates. Because in Disneyland, you can still dream dreams... and you realize, like Peter Pan, that you don't ever want to grow up.

Being Disneyland, the place was brimming with, well, Disney goodness. I don't condone or support Disney, though I do love the old classic cartoon movies, the fairytales, the endearing characters I've known since babyhood. But having flung ourselves into the desert-like time zone of California - plus with free tickets in our pockets - we were off to one of the most famous landmarks in the USA... in the world, maybe.

We rode the merry-go-round, ate ice cream on Main Street USA, went on ride after ride after ride after ride after ride, and were definitely never bored. So much color and enchantment and wonderfulness in that place, under your feet, above your head, everywhere. It's unbelievable. And everyone there, except an occasional fussy kid, was happy. You could just tell. Especially the tourists, like us.

I got to wear my favorite new blue dress, screamed so insanely on the roller coasters that by the end of the day my throat was parched and burning, bought the cutest Minnie Mouse key chain on the market, and lost my sunglasses in the Indiana Jones ride. It was an adventure, no doubt.

The Pinocchio, Peter Pan, Snow White, etc rides were some of my favorites. But it's a toss up between Pirates of the Caribbean and Indiana Jones. Oh, and Big Thunder Mountain. Splash Mountain was closed, and the Tangled place had a 90-60 minute wait, so we didn't do those, which means I didn't get my picture with Flynn to tease all my Tangled-crazy friends with. I guess I just spared them some jealousy. ;)

Disneyland makes you want to sing out every song stored in your brain while running in wild abandon up and down the glittering walkways, feeling all warm and soft inside and utterly, foolishly overjoyed, wearing your plush Minnie Mouse ears and living on the best cookie dough ice cream under the sun, buying all the chocolates you can fit in your purse and pockets, and dancing and whooping and snapping photos of the most ridiculously adorable things that can possibly be crammed into one place, at one time.

I didn't do this exactly. But it's every girl's Disneyland dream, right? =)

{ Michaela and dad.}

In my sisters words - "I think I could live there."

-anna

in the merry month of june

2011-06-29T13:12:00.008-04:00

June. The very word evokes so many carefree pictures in my mind of warmer months and lazy days. In this merry month, the happy things come in abundance in every firefly, pink sunset, cup of frozen chocolate (still have yet to try this...), country drive, and pair of flip flops. It's happiness. =)

happiness is the first day of summer. That single day on the calender, the longest day of the year in our time zone. Better than Christmas perhaps. That little line, "the first day of summer", makes me want to sing out in wild abandon, run barefoot through an an open field, adorn my hair with wild flowers. It makes me want to learn to play my guitar and hide away with it in the corner of a red-barn hayloft. It makes me wish for backyard parties with lights strung here and there, late night square dances under the stars, and watching 4th of July fireworks from the bed of a pickup truck. Because summertime, for some unknown reason, is all-American, chock full of red, white, and blue goodness and sunny days of freedom.

happiness is Jesus' love. He has been showing me so much lately.

happiness is watching my first Jimmy Stewart movie. I'm probably the only person who hasn't seen a JS film in all her eighteen years. You have my permission to call me weird. Mr. Smith Goes to Washington was not only adorable (black and white vintage films = WIN!) but it had a surprising amount of depth to it. I loved it. And now, I want to watch every JS film that's out there.

happiness is going to a wedding held in a country church on the edge of a overcast, golden field. The beauty, the holiness, the purity of a Christian wedding thrills me - not to mention the bridal party, the cake, and the friends add to all these valid reasons to rejoice. One things that's missing, however, with weddings here: the ladies go hatless. Can't the Brits just finally spread their ladies-wear-hats-to-weddings tradition? I should write a bill on this.

happiness is bokeh. I'm afraid that my infacatuion is beyond expression.

happiness is finding a Gaskell book at the library: Cranford. The cover is so smooth and thin and pretty and bendable - the perfect kind of novel cover, with Judi Denches sweet, dignified face on the front. So far, I'm really enjoying it's calm, down-to-earth, gently painted story. Though yeah, everyone is dying. Maybe I'm morbid.

happiness is this dress. If only I could own it in one thousand different colors.

happiness is discovering that although Celtic Thunder's music is quite abominable as far as unauthentic, commercial Celtic music goes - an Irishman can never be, despite whatever band he may be part of. Emmet Cahill would make a fabulous Marius for my (in-process-since-January 2011) Les Misérables dream cast. When it comes to the Irish... oh, be still my heart. Now I must find him a suitable Cosette, and click! -I finally shall hit the publish button on my dream cast draft that's been sitting there, lonesome and jumbled up, for months on end.

happiness is new blue earrings. Free, from one of the gals who sponsored my recent giveaway. They are blue, summery, and make me smile. Funny thing is, I opened the package in the car just when I was running out the door and had happened to change from a pink shirt to a blue one. =)

happiness is cupcakes on our town square. Ohhh, yesssss. New shop only five minutes away, and it's one of our most Mayberry ones yet. Recently when our dad dropped Michaela and I off to spend some time at the library, we bought ourselves each an Italian cappuinco cupcake, topped with a chocolate covered espresso bean. ♥

happiness is writing. I haven't written a decent poem in two years, and hardly right anymore at all in 2011, and now, my heart is craving it more than ever. Just last night I finally flexed my fingers to their fullest degree and started rampantly typing, and was actually pretty please with the results. I'm back on an Irish binge, btw; René is taking a break as I puff life back into the complicated hearts of Shanna Quinn and Christy (he's a guy) Fagan.

happiness is the first fireflies of the year. Enough said. I have a rather childlike affection for them, and find them a great source of inspiration. They're kind of like bits of living poetry.

happiness is going to Marblehead and being with my beloved lighthouse, the reeling gulls, the little white Victorian home where the lighthouse guy probably lived, the jutting rocks to roam and explore. Despite an occasional dead fish, and the fact that the water from Lake Erie is green compared to the ocean I saw last month, it's become a tradition to spend a day there each year, even though it half breaks my heart to stand on the rocks and see Put-In-Bay across the lake, and long to be back - that island is one of my favorite places in the whole world, and it's right here in little old Ohio.

happiness is making summer plans, because in the next three months, I have so much to accomplish and am scared to death of wasting a moment. I want to look back someday in the far-off future and remember "the summer I was 18..." I'm going to make it remarkable.

happiness is a facebook fan page for my blog. Do please click the link and become a fan. =)

-anna

an epoch in my life

2011-06-24T12:18:00.004-04:00

"I've been dreaming of this moment for 18 years.

What if it's not what I thought it would be?"

"It will be."

"And what if it is? What do I do then?"

"Well, that's the good part I guess. You get to go find a new dream."

♥

Saturday, June 18th, 2011. I turned my tassel to the other side of my cap and was an official homeschool graduate. After 12 years of home education, I was blessed to participate with 36 others in the beautiful commencement ceremony held annually by Christian Home Educators of Ohio.

These days, I am thinking about life, and how strange and how beautiful it is. I really don't know where I am right now, or where I am going, but I am glad to know that if any plans fail or any dreams break, His ways are always better than anything I could ever imagine or devise, and that He "is able to do exceeding abundantly above al that we ask or think". Shew me thy ways, O LORD; teach me thy paths. Lead me in thy truth, and teach me...

I did it. I graduated! It's seems unreal. How did I get to this point in my life so quickly? How can I thank the Lord for parents who have followed His leading? How can I ever thank Him for every single blessing I don't deserve? I really cannot fathom that I am here... that I've gotten here... that I've reached this mark. I am speechless with all the oddities of gratefulness and unknowingness. It's a new stage in my life - it's another step toward adulthood.

As my "adopted" big brother told me, don't let the huge open-endedness of life after highschool freak you out. Adulthood is awesome. I'm holding on to his words. I'm not afraid, though it does feel rather bizarre... like a gaping, racing, desiring excitement.

Despite a series of mishaps I encountered that day (i.e., my mom forgetting to hand me my diploma [thankfully it was only a mock one] during the ceremony, me sitting down twice while I was supposed to stand, and being forced to wear that horrific cap for a full three hours on my head...), I felt incredibly proud and beaming at the end, and got to wear a beautiful corsage of pink roses with babys breath and have dinner with my family and grandparents at a favorite Italian restaurant.

Graduation was an epoch in my life. Yay for homeshool graduates!

-anna