Cherry Boob Bowl

Behold! The cherry boob bowl is home and nestled safely in my kitchen cupboard! I stopped by Latest Glaze on Saturday afternoon to pick up this work of art and recognized it as soon as I walked through the door.  "Can I help you?" inquired the store's owner.  "Just here to pick up my boob bowl!"  I said, skipping over to the display window.  I was delighted that the firing process made the painted cherries look less like female body parts and more like actual fruit.

I've never prided myself on being any sort of painter and usually end up keeping these kinds of things around to laugh at later and be like, "Do you remember that time I thought I was creative? Oh, denial ...!"  But it's actually not that bad. It serves it's purpose. I ate fresh strawberries out of it yesterday morning and felt like a champion.

By the way, isn't my husband adorable? We snapped this picture on Saturday night before hitting the town because I'm going through a major I HAVE TO DOCUMENT EVERY MOMENT OF MY LIFE FOR FACEBOOK PROSPERITY phase (and by "phase" I mean the last 6 years). But seriously, my hubby is so adorable it makes my head spin. He has the most beauitful eyelashes that I've ever seen, (and I'd be lying if I said I've never secretedly debated putting mascara on him while he's asleep because I believe it will be that magical. Seriously, Clayton's eyelashes make unicorns and rainbows look like roadkill.) and he has icy blue eyes that switch to various shades of green and tourquise, depending on his outfit.

This picture is unneeded proof of his handsomeness and further proof that I need to stop taking pictures with my hair up lest I want to forever look like a balding man ...

In other news, I made sure to carve some time into my weekend for something I love and that something is cooking. Normally, I feel too rushed or stressed to put a lot of heart into my meals, so Clay and I usually end up eating some variation of chicken for dinner. But not thist weekend! Yesterday I vowed to make something I was excited about and for dinner we had one of my favorite I've-never-made-this-before-but-I-really-should-make-this-sometime-I'll-save-the-recipe-just-in-case dishes: White chicken chili.

I seriously can't stand it when people are like, "I MADE THE BEST DINNER EVER!" because hey, simmer down. But I have to toot my own horn juuuuuuust a little here because it turned out pretty good! I garnished the chili with a dallop of fat-free sour cream and fresh chopped cilantro. Clay had seconds and didn't succomb to food poisoning later, so I'm going to put this one down in the books as a success.

On a more serious note, I got a little more insight to my current struggle with everything Courtney. Saturday night, after starting to wind down from a long night out with friends, Clayton took me on a walk at one of our city’s several quaint little parks.While walking and enjoying the warm spring air, we continued a conversation we’ve been having for several weeks now. I shared with him how uncomfortable I feel in my own skin and how I wished I could have the same confidence I seemed to have as a kid. Before my parents got divorced I remember being a ham of a child, loving to be the center of attention and always speaking exactly what was on my mind, never wondering if what I said was stupid or unimportant (but then again, all kids seem to lack that basic “filter” that sits between their brains and their mouths). As I grew up, for whatever reason, I became shyer and increasingly concerned about what other people thought of me. Aside from my family and Clayton, I never feel like I’m acting 100% like myself around people, like I'm holding something back. I think everyone is like that to a certain degree, but I just don’t know how to fix it. It’s getting to the point where I obsess over it a little too much and end up not enjoying myself.

I asked Clayton if there was anything about himself he’d like to change since I’m the one forever airing out my laundry list of things I hate about myself. He was quiet for a second and then answered simply, “Nothing”.

My first reaction was to think, “Nothing? Yeah right. I’ve only lived with you for two and a half years but I could already fill up three college-rule notebooks with thing I’d change about you.” But I wasn’t asking him about changing things like his propensity to leave his beard trimmings all over the sink or his habit of throwing wet towels on the floor. Rather, I wanted to know if there was something about his personality or how he thinks and reacts to the world around him that he wasn’t satisfied with.

“Nothing? There’s nothing you’d want to change about yourself?” I probed.

“Nope. I like me.”

This was hard for me to accept. I almost felt like he wasn’t being honest or was just kidding himself because surely everyone wants to change something about who they are. I feel like a constant work in progress, so I assumed everyone else did too. At first, the idea of thinking you’re perfect just the way you are sounds pretentious to me. I seriously considered calling him out on it, but the more I let the thought settled over me, the more I began to believe (and envy) him.

He continued, “I used to hate how shy I was and that I never had much to say. I used to worry that people thought I was boring or something.”

“I’ve never thought you were boring,” I interjected. “The more I got to know you, the more I realized that if don’t have anything to say, you just won’t speak. You think it’s better to just keep your mouth shut than say something fake or that you don’t mean. I like that about you. It makes you genuine.”

“Exactly,” he said. “It’s just a part of who I am and I am okay with that”.

Clayton likes himself just the way he is. Instead of changing every little thing that he or someone else might deem unpleasant about him, he just willingly accepts and embraces it. That’s why Clayton is more relaxed than me, has lower blood pressure than me, and just generally enjoys his everyday life more than me. I’m high-strung and paranoid, white knuckling my way through life’s hills and valleys and stiffening up in fear of something I can’t even identify anymore.

For a man of few words, Clayton sure tells me a lot.

“I am who I am …,” he said as he opened the car door for me.

“… says Popeye the Sailor Man,” I chimed in.


  1. This was a great post though I could do without the reminder of how painfully attractive your husby is! HAHAHA. I think the bowl looks nice and not at all as bad as you had described to me in email. This was a really really good post and it was nice you and your man got to talk!


Post a Comment