{enitnelav}{valentine}

Saturday Garret and I went to Calvert, a neat/dead/quaint town about 30 minutes down the road. We strolled down main street (which is highway 6). We ate amazing food at Loretta's cafe. We read historical/hysterical markers. I ate yummy candies at CocoaModa (Garret was suspicious of that place). We looked at old/neat houses. And we generally enjoyed ourselves - it just quite was a good day!

I bet this house was gorgeous in its day. Garret pointed out how neat the top left window was.

My man :)

We really enjoy all the old buildings in Calvert. They have so much character and history.

We love each other :)

This building is NEAT. It's totally fallen apart and there are trees growing inside of it.

Show and Tell

I've realized lately that I often live my life like a continuous Kindergarten class - I'm almost always playing show and tell.

When someone comes over to our house to visit, I show them things - new creations, photos, books, clothes, etc. Even if the stuff is boring or lame, I have this built-in desire to show people stuff. When I go home to see my family, I bring stuff to show them, and more stuff to work on and produce while I'm there. When my housemates come to my room to chat, I want to show them some new thing that I've got. If I go visit someone and I don't bring anything, it's just me, I feel totally unprepared.

It's like I want to prove something - but what? That I'm a real live girl who's being productive and responsible, and who can make nifty purchases? What does that say about me?

I think that doing this to a degree is normal, but I think I sometimes use these things as shields. Like if I can show my friends and family enough things, then maybe they'll be convinced that I'm competent/okay/together. Maybe they'll think better of me, or maybe they won't question me as much. And I think that personally I link my value to what I can make/buy/do/read.

Just something to think about. Next time I do show and tell for you, please humor me, but also please help me let down my lame-o defensives made of scrapbooks, writing projects, junk and jewelry.