In a sweatshirt and good company.

Since we’re now on day five of this glorious fall-like weather in July, I think it’s safe to say the heat advisory has been lifted. My autumn-loving soul is reveling in the opportunity to sleep in a pile of blankets and lounge about in socks and sweatshirts drinking gallons of coffee. Apparently the water fowl who reside in the park I run through every other day are also enjoying the temperature reprieve. Ambient temperature seems to have an inverse relationship with the number of geese that ominously guard the path through the park. I thought I had recovered from the trauma of watching geese eat my father’s shoes off his feet as a child, but I don’t know that I can blame the run for the spike in my heart rate as I near those long-necked monsters.

The cooler weather and sporadic rain hit us just as I was heading up to Big Star Lake for some frolicking in the sunshine. Even though this visit was without beach volleyball and tubing, the quality of the Spauldings’ company made for a beautiful start to the weekend, full of good books, great conversation, and some overtly competitive euchre.

The rain held off long enough for me to take a short walk around the cottages to explore some places I hadn’t been on my last visit.





Grateful for the sweetness of friendship today.

Back to my duties as an enchilada dealer. Happy Monday.

Macramé planters and pottery parties.

I was about to sit down to write a post about the wonderful time I’ve had spending the last two days up in Baldwin with the Spauldings, but the conversation I just had on the ride home from church with my father was incredible enough to trump it. Never fear: the pictures I snapped of their beautiful cottage will make an appearance at a later date.

Before I regale you with the details of the chat I had with my dad, I believe he requires a bit of introduction. This is my father:

And this:

And here he is in my youth:

He’s brilliant. He has two masters and had just finished his first year in a doctoral program when I was born, ate up all the money, and forced him out into the workforce. Now he’s a book editor, the father of two girls, and a lover of Hamburger Helper. We think he’s hilarious and love him to death.

Conversations like the one I’m about to describe are not atypical. This is probably why we think he’s the best. He inadvertently reminds us by telling us ludicrous stories from his younger years.

He also asks priceless questions like, “so is Facebook what girls use these days to vet their dates?” which is how our exchange began this afternoon. Eventually we found ourselves talking about dating philosophy and I come to find out that Josh Harris, the author of I Kissed Dating Goodbye, grew up in the church my parents attended in Ohio, the same one that boasted a Bible college in the church house where they really got to know each other and in which they eventually got married. This alone would have been enough to floor me, but the story was just getting started.

Josh’s father, Greg Harris, worked at the church as a worship leader and pastor at youth group events. When not guiding young people in the ways of the Lord, Greg ran a business selling terrariums. Yes, those glass tanks in which you can keep lizards or piranhas or create your own rainforest mini-biome. Apparently there was a market for this in the ‘70s. He also sold pottery made by a local artisan and macramé hanging planters.

In addition to having a brick and mortar store out of which he would sell these high-demand items,  Greg did parties, similar to those you have for Pampered Chef or Tupperware but infinitely less useful. At these parties, an explanation of how to keep terrariums would be offered along with the opportunity to purchase the necessary supplies. More logically, this service was also available for the artisan pottery.

My father enters the story as an employee of this enterprising company. He was hired to serve as a representative at pottery parties. Unfortunately (and also not surprisingly), he missed something in the instructions and failed to understand what this position actually required of him. Instead of giving a presentation showcasing the items available and suggesting possible uses for various pieces, he would give a lesson on how pottery was made. Often this lesson would last such a long time that guests would have to leave early. Parties he worked were typically low on conversation and he rarely sold anything. If he wasn’t such a handsome lad, it’s unlikely they would have let him stay to finish his discourse.

Hope your Sunday is as filled with laughter as mine has been.

A house is not a home without a smattering of coasters.

The most exciting and relieving piece of news of my recent days is that the application I submitted to live in this dreamy old house with a group of incredible women was approved. This means I now get have incredible adventures with beautiful new friends and have the added bonus of coming home to an adorable house with walls and a dishwasher and perfect, creaky wooden stairs. Undeserved blessings are the most humbling kind.

Now that the idea of having a place to live has become a concrete (pun always intended) reality, it’s infinitely easier to imagine what my life will look like in the coming year. And it’s serving as an impetus to actually create some of those crafts I’ve been pinning for the day I actually may have a need for light switch covers and throw pillows.

Which is why today, after lunch, I found myself wandering the aisles of The Home Depot looking for tiles to turn into coasters. The most impressive part of this outing was the fact that my ineloquently-phrased inquiry as to where I might find “those little felty sticky things you put on the bottom of…stuff” was completely understood by a rather perceptive employee and his directions to “aisle 16, halfway down on the left” resulted in me finding exactly what I was looking for. So far, this is absolutely the most painless project I’ve ever undertaken. Definitely much easier than that time in middle school that I decided I was going to save the world by turning all of those discarded milk jugs and toilet paper rolls into lamps shaped like pigs that actually emitted no light due to the thick layers of acrylic paint I slathered them in. Yes, I eventually realized that milk jugs and toilet paper tubes are among the easiest items ever created to recycle. No, shockingly, I did not acquire a small fortune due to lamp sales.

The inspiration/instructions for this project came from this post.



One afternoon and just like that, I’ve got 12 new coasters and a fun way to put some of those Instagram photos I worked so hard on to good use.

Here are a couple pro-tips for making this project as painless as possible:

1. If you have a pretty good printer and some photo paper, just print your own photos at home. Then you can crop them to the right size before printing them and save yourself the heartbreak of measuring, hoping you’ll like the framing, cutting, and realizing you really don’t. Some photos look lame when you crop them like this. Save yourself some money and know exactly what your photos will look like ahead of time.

2. I asked around The Home Depot for some matte white tiles and found out I’d have to special order an entire box of them. Since a whole village doesn’t need that many coasters, I declined the offer. My concern was that the photos wouldn’t stick well to the glossy tile. This was a non-issue. I would also advise against roughing up your tiles to improve the bond between the photo and the tile. While the science of this is accurate, aesthetically, I think you’ll prefer your tiles unscratched.

3. Flip your tiles upside-down while you’re waiting for the Mod Podge to dry after the first step when you just put glue on the back of the photo and place it on the tile. This will prevent the edges of your pictures from curling up.

4. Don’t skip the sealant. Mod Podge is water-based so the integrity of your coaster may be comprised if placed in the presence of liquids. Since this is its sole purpose, it’s in everyone’s best interest for you to prepare it to do its job as well as possible. Though virtually anything is more embarrassing than the colors on a coaster you made running during a dinner party, this would probably still be annoying.

Happy creating.

Sunday shenanigans.

These gems come to you courtesy of the day I’ve spent editing the pictures from my trip to Rome that have been hiding in the recesses of my computer for well over a year now. In this particular case, I’m counting my procrastination as a win because it means I get to relive wonderful memories. Like the time my delicious pistachio gelato fell off of my cone and my dearest friend Bee said “Oo, give me your camera!” instead of welcoming my crushed spirit into her comforting embrace. Because I am a merciful person, she is still my dearest friend.

After church, my father and I ventured into the grocery store together because I mentioned I might like a banana. This is a prime example of what I like to call the “lovably illogical” actions of my father. Tomorrow is my mother’s day off and also one of the two days of the week she replenishes the fruit supply in our home (The other is Thursday. Yes, these are my favorite days.). Of course I can wait until tomorrow for a banana. No, we should not go to the store and pretend we remember what was written on the “to buy at Meijer” post-it note in the kitchen. But without this trip we would not have two boxes of exotically flavored Honey Bunches of Oats, the completely unnecessary carton of orange juice (Unnecessary because a gallon jug was hiding behind nothing in the fridge. By “nothing” I mean it was in plain sight.), and five bananas, none of which I ate today because they’re even more green than I’ll eat them. However, we also would have been without the Turner family laughfest that ensued as my father and I tried to explain ourselves while Amy unabashedly ratted us out upon my mother’s return. You win some, you lose some.

I rounded out my Sunday with an impromptu 15.6 mile bike ride which I am referring to as the “Tour de Academia” because it makes it sound like something fancy I put effort into planning instead of my impulsive decision to ride my bicycle to every school I found meaningful on the West side of Grand Rapids. This adventure earned me a “congratulations” from my mother. I am still wondering if it was a “congratulations on doing something fun and good for your health” or a “congratulations on your discovery that your legs do indeed still function”. Any insight would be appreciated.

And now I’m off to watch a documentary and do a crossword puzzle, a routine I’ve fallen into that I’m not sure I hate. I’ll leave you with a few more treasures from my adventures in Rome.




Ciao.

Gone, Gone, Gone by [Phillip Phillips]

I've been hearing this song on the kitchen radio all summer and only recently had the presence of mind to figure out what it was. What a catchy little summer soundtrack. Makes me think of long drives with the windows down and running barefoot down grassy hills with dear friends.

Happy Friday.

Warby Parker.

I'm thrilled to announce that after Amy nervously saying, "Kati, someone just rang the doorbell", I found this little box of joy on my doorstep. Hello, home try-on kit from Warby Parker.

Warby Parker is like TOMS for your eyes. They pride themselves on offering affordable, stylish, vintage-inspired eyewear at affordable prices. And according to their webpage, about 1 billion people worldwide lack access to glasses, a statistic that has a major impact on education and vocation success. Since they believe everyone has the right to see, with every pair of glasses you buy, they send one to someone who needs them. So someone else gets the gift of sight and you get to look incredibly stylish for the rest of time. Or for six months if your eyes, like mine, continue at a slow jaunt down into the pit of blindness despite the absurd amount of carrots you consumed in your childhood as a preventative measure that only resulted in your nose turning orange.

But still. At a price point of $95, even I can afford to keep up with the atrophy of my eyeballs.

And to eliminate the anxiety associated with ordering something as important and appearance-altering as glasses on the internet, the good folks at Warby Parker will let you select up to five frames that they will send you, free of charge, allowing you to make an informed decision in the privacy of your own home. And they include a pre-paid return shipping label. Upon reading this, I said, "sign me up." So here we are.

Ainsworth in Striped Chestnut

Clyde in Striped Chestnut

Preston in Whiskey Tortoise

Sloan in Rum Cherry

Sloan in Striped Chestnut

I now have five days to make a decision. What do you think?

That time I went to way too much trouble in order to not take advantage of modern conveniences.

About three months ago, I decided I wanted recipe cards.

I was laughed at by Pinterest mavens and iPhone loyalists for my antiquated preferences. Why would I ever want to write out an ingredient list and instructions by hand on a flammable scrap of paper I could easily lose and spend hours/days/weeks/eons searching for instead of calling up the desired recipe using a handy-dandy search bar? A question to which my reply will always be, "in the case of a worldwide power outage during which I have accidentally dropped my laptop off an overpass and my cell phone battery has been pilfered by bandits, it will be nice to know that somewhere in the gigantic jumble of papers in the cabinet above the stove lies an elegantly-designed note card which will allow me to make some top-notch banana bread".

To that end, I've spent the last three months stopping in to every paper store I've stumbled across, scouring each one for the perfect set of recipe cards. My first thought was to buy some pre-made cards, but I quickly foresaw what would happen on the day I used the last one. I anticipated three possible outcomes. Behind door number one, I was successfully able to locate more of the same design, purchased them, and carried on blissfully until the last card in that pack had been used. In scenario number two, being unable to find more identical cards, I picked a different design, bought an absurd number, and copied my existing library onto the new cards to preserve unity with any new recipes I may eventually add to my arsenal. And, most tragically, option number three also began with me unable to find more of the original card and ended with me deciding never to add any new cards because option two seemed ridiculous and combing through a conglomerate of non-matching cards wasn't worth having the ability to create more than eight dishes for the rest of my life.

This was when I had the idea to buy a spoon stamp, offering me the ability to make an infinite number of recipe cards to my exact specifications. So really the last three months have been a ludicrously unsuccessful search for a spoon stamp. Shortly after my return from New York, after another disappointing tour through all the craft supply shops in town, the following realization whacked me in the face:

"You have a computer, amateur design abilities, and a printer. Also, cardstock is on sale this week at Michael's."

I immediately rushed home to create these:

 I find myself overwhelmingly pleased with them. And appreciate the wisdom inherent in affording myself the opportunity to circumvent all three of the aforementioned options, barring lack of a printer, cardstock, and the PDF I will share with you now.

Click here to have the option to continue living in the days of the pioneers in style.

Hope you enjoy as much as I do.

A hilarious video with an important message.

Last night a friend of mine mentioned this video to me and posted it on my Facebook wall when she got home. My life is better because she did.

As someone interested in having a career in international development, I see in this video a really tragic theme I've seen repeated over and over again as I've taken classes and done research on global aide projects. Obviously smoothie makers are a totally irrelevant item to needy people living in rural Africa. And while this parody may present the limit case, it's not nearly as far from the truth as you wish it was. I saw this in action even as recently as my trip to New York. I spent a day sorting donated items to be shipped out to shelters and food banks around the city and was unfortunately unsurprised by the presence of really obscure, unnecessary items and the absence of other really important ones. My least favorite phrase tossed around in reference to aide programs is this:

"At least we/I/you/she/he did something."

I cringe even typing it. If we're going to invest money in improving the quality of life experienced by people across the globe, why not make that money produce the best outcomes possible? Why not dignify the downtrodden by taking the time to ask them what they perceive their needs to be and then seeking to meet them in the same way we would meet the needs of a dearly loved family member? In my head, this is just common sense. But you'd be surprised by the number of organizations that design programs based on their own preconceptions of the target community and don't take the time to evaluate the efficacy of their programs.

More Than Good Intentions is a book that's really helped me organize my thoughts on this subject and acquire a vocabulary with which to express them. I highly recommend for absolutely everyone. It's easy to read and addresses the important subject of how we go about offering the best to those who have very little. At the end, the authors summarize the areas in which they've seen the most success in order to help readers learn how to give their time and money where it counts. Definitely check it out from the library or pick it up from a bookstore. Or come over and borrow it from me. Cause I want you to read this book.

Pizza party.

Today, after a long hiatus, I had the divine pleasure of having lunch with my mother and sister. My whirlwind two weeks, Mom's work schedule, and the Vocal Music Workshop Amy was participating in had effectively stymied Turner-girl quality time, but on this blessed Thursday, the stars aligned and we were able to partake of some delicious pizza from Gus' Original together. We enjoyed sparkling conversation, the Spanaka and the Garlic Tomato, and soda in glass bottles. The rest of the family has been raving about Gus' for a good while and now I understand why. Phenomenal crust, creative recipes, and plenty of outdoor seating? I'm sold.

We rounded out the meal with a trip to the Pump House, our new favorite frozen yogurt source, and made a quick trip to Fruitbasket Flowerland to take advantage of a sale on Adirondack chairs.

A pretty excellent way to spend a Thursday.

Time to assume my role as the keeper of the tacos. Adios.

NYC.

After an incredible week away, I have returned to the land shaped like a hand. My time in New York was exciting, challenging, refreshing, and exactly what I needed. A high intensity week was peppered with great food, fellowship that filled my heart to overflowing daily, and plenty of rounds of 500, my favorite card game and a church trip staple during my years in the youth group. I had a blast hanging out with high schoolers and reigniting my passion for service and working with the poor. It was awesome to learn about how New York is working to meet the needs of its people and to come alongside them to offer what we could for a week. Our trip was equal parts service and education; we spent loads of time taking walks through various parts of the city to learn how the residents do life and listened to awesome speakers talk about how they integrate faith and work.

We stayed at the New York School of Urban Ministry, an awesome organization that offers service trips of various lengths, summer internships for college students, and cheap housing for groups like us who want to spend a week learning about and working in the city. We spent a couple days working with them, but most of our time was spent on activities we had organized ourselves. I loved the projects we did with them, so I definitely recommend checking them out is you're planning a trip to New York and want to have an atypical vacation.

We took all of our students to the World Trade Center memorial and St. Paul's Chapel which was an incredibly moving experience for everybody. Our kids were between the ages of 3 and 5 when 9/11 happened, so many of the details were new for them. Having been only 10 myself, I certainly remembered how it had affected life in America differently than they did and being on-site, especially in St. Paul's, was powerful. The design of the North and South pools evokes a really powerful imagery and really poetically and appropriately commemorates the tragic events of that day. I'm way glad we took time to go.

This was my first trip as a leader with the church I grew up in and I absolutely loved it. I learned so much about myself and what I'm capable of. It was as if something in my mind woke up and I begin to see more clearly as I thought about my future and what it would look like to live a life committed to integrating my faith into my career. I filled up page after page of my journal with thoughts and ideas and bits of the vision I have for my life after grad school. This trip to New York was perfectly timed. Like a divine appointment.

Because one observes a city completely differently when seeking to document it vs. seeking to absorb the way life is done there, we decided against bringing cameras on the trip. However, as a leader, I was to judiciously document important moments with my phone. The result was 18 instagrams for your perusal. Enjoy.