Why I’m Treating Myself this Valentine’s Day with a Unique Wood Watch

You’ll remember that last year I gifted my boyfriend Frank with a beautiful wood watch from JORD. He wears his almost every day and while I’m not the jealous type, it got me thinking–maybe I need one of my own. And my friends at JORD were like “Heck yes you do!” And I was like, “Duh! What have I been doing!?” So they sent me one to write about and now I have my very own walnut and vintage rose watch. Happy Valentine’s Day to me!

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Keep reading to find out how you can win a $100 gift card to Jord!

Ok, that’s the short version, here’s the slightly more accurate version…

Before this wood watch, I had never given myself anything for Valentine’s Day. Sure, I buy a ton of chocolate and conversation hearts every year (don’t come for me, conversation hearts are delicious) but I never sat down and thought, “How can I show MYSELF love this year?” It was always about sharing love with my boyfriends, friends, family… I even make Valentine’s Day cards for my co-workers! I never made it about myself which is just crazy! Shouldn’t I be number one in my own life? (Shouldn’t YOU be number one in YOUR life too?)

So, I sat down to think about how I could really show myself love this year. And I thought about time and how awesome it would be if I could give myself the gift of time. More hours each day to do more, see more, and be more. Since hours are not purchasable I went with the next best thing — a wood watch. The thing is, I am typically running ten minutes late at all times and I swear that’s because once I flip my phone over to check the time, I have a MILLION messages to respond to (I am not really that popular, but I really do exaggerate). I hate having to check my phone for the time while I am in important meetings or when my phone is buried in my purse…

Clearly, a watch was perfect! I needed one and it was going to make my life easier and better. It took some time, but I selected the walnut and vintage rose Cassia ladies wood watch. I picked it because most of my jewelry is gold or rose gold, and the band was slender. I have super tiny wrists! (Also super fun fact about Jord wood watches: they can custom size the band to YOUR wrist. I absolutely took them up on this, and now my watch doesn’t slide around or slip off.)

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The Cassia style wood watch in walnut and rose gold was a beautiful choice, as it complements many of my outfits but also adds a little extra pizzazz too. (I’ve shared a few photos throughout this piece showing all the different ways I’ve styled the watch!) The craftsmanship of these watches always blows me away. Frank’s still looks brand new a year later, so I know mine will last too. 🙂

Jord wood watches are the perfect gift for anyone but this year I think you get a little selfish and give yourself a gift for Valentine’s Day. And good news! I’m hosting a giveaway for $100 toward any Jord Watch! All you have to do is CLICK HERE to enter! All entrants get a 10% gift code.

So treat yourself because you know how that saying goes… if you can’t love yourself, how can you love someone else?

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Real live photo of me loving myself in a Jord watch.

 

 

 

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Guest Post: Bravery & Finding the Power of Your Own Voice

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Photo by Noah Silliman on Unsplash

I am always so grateful to be a place where people can share their stories of bravery and challenges overcome. This is why I write, this is why I maintain the blog, to get voices out there to each and everyone of you. This week Holly Zarcone tells us about the power of our own voices.

 

Inhale. Exhale. Scream.

Repeat.

That was the rudimentary thought process that I depended on that early morning. Laying abandoned in the middle of a suburban street, the chill of a summer night cut through the open wounds that now decorated my once smooth twenty year old legs and shoulder. The darkness closed in around me, just a few porch lights twinkling in my periphery. Exhausted and in shock I wondered if I would be found. The street was eerie quiet, a complete contrast to just two hours earlier. Both the sounds of the revelry and the guests whom had partaken in said revelry were now gone. The fear of headlights coming towards me flashed in my mind, followed shortly by the eviscerating reminder of the image of tail lights that had just left me. Not once did I see the crimson glow of a pause or even a second thought resulting in a touch to a brake pedal.

Inhale. Exhale. Scream.

I was terrified, but I was saved. The same power behind my lungs, vocal cords, and lips that had gotten me into trouble for years finally saved me. My entire life people were telling me to be quiet and not to speak so loudly. I often wonder that if I hadn’t been so scared would I have enjoyed those moments of screaming, my jaw practically unhinged and my voice echoing. I had done it. My people found me. My best friend carried me, bloody and broken, into the house. Parents were called, a quick dash to the ER was made.

People called me brave. Brave? I am not entirely sure that following basic survival instincts classifies you as brave. I wasn’t then and I still, years later, cannot commit myself to that idea. It was in those following months which were doused in heartbreak, depression, and physician prescribed opioids that I believe my courage truly formed. Courage formed under the influence of incantations of “It will be over soon.” , “It will get better.”, and “Stay strong.” It formed while my father had to hold me down so that my mother could scrub my wounds three times a day as I sobbed through the intake of sharp breaths and stabbing pain.

Inhale. Exhale. Scream.

There is a halo of fog that surrounds the period of time in my life immediately after my accident. There were police officers, insurance interviewers, and daily wound care. There were moments I was in so much pain that I would squeeze my eyes shut until I saw a white burning light. I would go over the facts of what I remembered from that night in my head. Constantly reliving the sequence of events that led directly up to the exact moment my body collided with asphalt. I could practically feel my grip on the plastic and metal as I had clung to the side of the car as he was behind the wheel.

I would make myself crazy trying to decide if it was my fault. I would wrestle with my own psyche, trying to see if there would ever be a way back to the safe space that had been. There was a time that it had been just us; two kids reunited and swaddled in mutual grief and nostalgia. We had never fought, we had never bickered, and it had never felt unsafe – Until it did. It is an odd thing to have such a break in a relationship, that it is cut off so clean while everything surrounding that break is in ruins. I remember thinking that it felt like I had been killed and ended up in a parallel universe where everything was the same, but not.

Eventually, the fog started to lift. I was taken off of the pain management medications entirely and my body healed. Everyone started to look at me like I should be going right back to the regularly scheduled programming. The interesting thing about being cooped up in recovery is that the entire time you want to escape, but when you finally get the all clear, it can actually be quite scary to take the next step. Just getting back to the basics of driving my car was a frightening task. I had to start over entirely; I moved out of my parents house and into a new place with a friend, I was hired into two new jobs, and I eventually opened up to the idea of dating again.

There are no words for the myriad of poor choices and changes that went on within that following year. It took ages for me to me to truly become comfortable with my body and the few scars that remained. I do think though that the most difficult task I encountered was finding the patience, trust, and desire to have something more than a superfluous relationship with someone…So I didn’t. Instead of seeking something with someone else, I looked inward and fell into a deep and fast romance with myself. For an entire year I took the focus off of finding someone else and travelled, worked, played, and genuinely enjoyed life. I made my own safe place…I grew a voice again. I spoke loudly.

There are moments in this life that will break you. You will feel like you cannot go on, and you will feel compelled to give in. Don’t. I implore you instead to assess your position, determine the imminent dangers. Make a decision; and be it bravery or be it basic survival instincts, please open your mouth and force the help you need to arrive. Create urgency, send out an SOS. Use everything you have in order to be saved. Use the entire power behind your lungs, vocal cords, and lips.

Inhale. Exhale. Scream.

Repeat.

 

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Holly Nichole Zarcone lives on Long Island with her husband, three children, and enormous Saint Bernard. She enjoys going on adventures on land, in the sea, and through pages. She is a freelance writer and blogger. Most recently she self published her first children’s book, Cookies For Dinner, which you can find for purchase on
Amazon. You can contact her at HollyNZarcone@gmail.com.

website: www.HollyNicholeZarcone.com
Instagram: @mrs.HollyNichole
Facebook: @HollyNicholeZarcone
Twitter: @MrsHollyNichole

Guest Post: Tiny Superstitions

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This is kind of a ghost story.

It’s about memories and magic, and it’s about all the ways my mother taught us to believe in small bits of wonder. It’s about hoping for the best while facing the worst, and it’s about pattern-seeking behavior. I lost my mother to cancer on December 29, 2017, after eight years of battling colon cancer. I have been trying to write this personal essay since March 2016.

This is for you, Mom. I will always leave the rocking chair rocking if you’d like to come and sit.

I have always been drawn to ghost stories. I have always been drawn to any strange or unusual story, any bump in the night that would have me. While this isn’t altogether unusual — who doesn’t love a mystery, or a sense in a world beyond what we see? — I have started to suspect I am drawn to them in a different way. So often, we are taught to be frightened of the unknown. Cautionary tales flourish in this genre, small words to protect us from our own darkest natures. Don’t go into the woods alone at night without a lantern. Don’t eat things a stranger gives you. Don’t give in to the desperation of these times.

I find in these stories solace, rather than terror. Not that we tell them, but that they exist at all. I think being drawn to the unknown comes not solely from a destructive urge to gaze into the abyss, but from the thrilling notion that we can challenge everything. Not every secret is known, and not every outcome is written in the stars. If there are things beyond what we can see, then there are things we see right in front of us that might be part of something big and mysterious, too.

The unknowable thing in my life for nearly a decade has been the cancer in my mom’s body. I have spent my adult life holding lantern in its wilderness, the shadows cast around me scattering fear and hope tangled endlessly into the brambles. I am not an expert in anything, not grief nor medicine nor other people’s stories. But I have clumsy hands and a clumsy heart, and if I can add a story to the string of tales that have brought me comfort, I might as well try.

We are, as humans, inclined to seek patterns in the day-to-day. My mom was no exception. Her combination of Biblical knowledge, a Farmer’s Almanac approach to weather, and allegorical stories of a childhood in the deep, deep South have created a bevy of tiny myths and superstitions in my family. It’s the kind of miniature magic you don’t think about very hard while it’s happening. A handful of these include:

1) Bubbles in your coffee mean money’s coming.

2) Eating greens, pork, and black-eyed peas on New Year’s Day ensures a good year.

3) Leave your pumpkins lit all night on Halloween, and your Christmas lights lit all night on Christmas Eve.

4) Never rock an empty rocking chair, or you’ll invite a ghost to sit in it.

5) Seeing a cardinal is a sign of good fortune.

I told her all the time that she was superstitious. She laughed or rolled her eyes as I tempted fate a thousand times a day.

“It’s not superstition,” Mom said, “It’s wisdom. And at any rate, even if I’m wrong, it doesn’t hurt anybody.” This comment was often accompanied by coffee or prayer. Or both.

I often marveled at her quiet determination in all these tiny rituals. Even as I grew to be an adult, it seemed like she held the understanding of the universe in her long fingers, somehow. I realize, of course, that some of the things I consider rituals are just things she liked and did over and over, so now I revere them simply because my mother did them. Some of the things she did were precisely because she was a mother.

6) She served spaghetti and grapes on Halloween. “Brains” and “eyeballs” to spook us a little, but also a very sneaky way to carbo-load her children so they didn’t get sick on candy later in the evening.

7) She rang bells on Christmas morning to wake us up.

8) She did the laundry in a complicated array of batches based on color, water temperature, usage, size, and the weather.

9) She gathered us together before a big trip, no matter what time of day or night, to hold our hands and pray for our safety.

10) She pointed out fairy rings in the yard after hard rains.

I’ve developed my own superstitions here and there over the years, and I see signs and patterns in lots of things, too. I made my own kind of miniature magic, though it closely resembles hers. I have jewelry for good luck, and I have quiet mantras for certain days of the year. I try not to upset the order of the universe too gravely by trying to pretend I understand the future or second-guessing rainy days.

I guess this wasn’t a ghost story so much as it was a memory story. Though what’s a ghost but a memory so strong you can feel it moving through the world? It still stands as a cautionary tale, though. Don’t give in to the desperation of these times. Create your own tiny rituals, or borrow someone else’s until they feel real to you. Hold hope in your heart no matter what’s happening around you. If my mom hadn’t taught me that lesson, I am not sure how I’d carry on now without her.

I have one final bit of magic to share with you. It’s just a pattern, but that doesn’t mean it’s not big and mysterious in its own way. On the morning after I found out my mom had cancer, it snowed hard. It was early October in Iowa, and it hadn’t been in the forecast. I didn’t own a car in Iowa City since I lived downtown, so I trudged to work in knee-high boots and cried. I am convinced the snow was trying its damnedest to hide my sorrow as I crossed the last intersection to work.

Later that day, an old friend called me, and in the course of that conversation, we arranged for him to come visit from my hometown. He was an old boyfriend, another film school junkie who stayed up too late and worried too much, but he knew my mom and he knew me, so it was good to be able to share that time together.

The day before my mom passed away, it snowed. It was a light snow in late December, but the forecast had missed it by almost a week. That old friend was with me again — now my husband — as we held hands, because he knew my mom and he knew me, and it was good to be together.

 

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Sarah Caputo is an artist and teacher working in Oklahoma City. Her most recent creative focus has been on representations of memory, love, and folklore. Sarah posts her drawings, comics, and other misadventures frequently on Instagram (@tiny.revelations). You can also contact her at sarah.tinyrevelations@gmail.com.

Real Talk: I Love Valentine’s Day + (A Wood Watch Gift for Your Boo!)

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I partnered with Jord Watches to giveaway $100! Keep reading to learn how.

My History with Valentine’s Day…

When I was a kid I loved Valentine’s Day. I loved the tacky candy and the teddy bears and the cute cards we collected at school. But as I grew up, it got harder to celebrate the way I wanted to because everyone around me hated it. I buried this part of me until I met Frank and now I’m pulling out all the stops. This year I’m giving him a beautiful zebrawood and dark sandalwood wood watch.

I feel like a kid again. I am so thrilled I have found someone that’s going to embrace this sort of cheesy, oddly romantic side of me. I think Valentine’s day is so special to me because my parents always spent it with my brothers and I. We’d have a special dinner and then sit together to pick out chocolates from our big heart shaped boxes. With so much hate in the world it feels good to spend time to celebrate love.

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Celebrating like a grown up with a wood watch…

Now, just because I am into tacky candy doesn’t mean I don’t have great taste when it comes to gifts and celebrating. No teddy bears here!

A couple of months ago Frank’s beloved watch broke. He gave up on ever finding a decent replacement. Enter this unique wood watch from Jord. Frank is not a flashy guy (one of my favorite things about him), he essentially wears the same cut of shirt everyday, jeans, and a pair of boots, so a metal band was out of the question. A more minimalist wood watch was perfect for him because it is unique enough to be special, but low key enough to be worn everyday to work, bars, parties, and meetings. I also gave him the wood watch early (oops!) because I wanted him to pick out his style and wood grains. There are a ton of options. They can also be engraved, which is a nice touch.

In addition to the gift I’ll probably take him out for dinner (I cook all the time and while I am pretty decent, a night out is always nice) and go see a movie. Ok, and yes, I will eat a lot of tacky Valentine’s Day candy because I just can’t help myself!

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Wood Watch Giveaway!

Now it’s your turn to rock a unique piece. I’ve partnered with Jord Watches to giveaway $100 on their site to my readers and followers! All you have to do is CLICK HERE, enter your e-mail, and wait for your name to be drawn. All entrants will receive a 10% off code after the contest is over. (It’s a win-win.) Anyone can enter and don’t worry, it’s not just for men, Jord also has a great line of women’s watches. So you can gift a unique men’s or women’s watch for Valentine’s Day (or any day) too!

Let me know what you pick out for your loved one (or yourself) this season!


Wooden Wrist Watch

Call for Courage Challenge – Share Your Talents

Hey party people!

First, before I do anything I just want to thank everyone that visits my blog on a weekly basis. You guys are really why I am here doing this. Otherwise I’d be talking to space, nothingness, a white wall, the sky, my dog. So thank you! The greatest gift you can give me is your eyeballs! The second greatest and sharing my posts. If you read something and you like it please share it! A little bit goes a long way, you have no idea.


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Last month I announced that I’d be doing a Call for Courage Challenge all year long and we’ve already made it to the next installment! I don’t know where January went but we are just cruising along here toward spring (yes!). Last month I challenged you all to reach out to someone you admired or missed. I wanted you to call, text, DM a person that made you nervous for one reason or another. What I heard from those who tried was mainly how hard it was to do this and how the result was nothing like you imagined. I am so proud of you for taking this scary step!

I am taking this challenge too so I decided that I would reach out to an influencer I admire and tell them as such. I reached out to @jera.bean. I have been following her for quite sometime and so appreciate her honesty about her journey. I sent her a DM explaining the challenge, why I admired her and pressed send with my eyeballs closed. And guess what? She responded and invited me to a Soul Cycle class as her guest. A week later I met her in person and took her class (which was killer btw)!

Honestly I thought I’d get a nice DM back but I never imagined she’d be so open to welcoming me into her space. It was so cool, the class was amazing, and I admire her even more.

 

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Jera Foster-Fell aka @jera.bean

 


On that note, this month’s challenge is to SHARE YOUR TALENTS. What are you working on that you rarely tell people about? (It took me years at my day job to tell anyone I write.) What accomplishments have you been too embarrassed to share? (Did you finally try a spin class?) What’s a super weird secret talent of yours? (Can you yodel? No seriously, if anyone can yodel e-mail me ASAP.) Remember, it can be big, small, long, short, whatever. No talent is too insignificant for the Call for Courage Challenge. Take this month to announce to the world: THIS IS WHAT I CAN DO! And then get back over here and tell me how it goes (or message me on social, or e-mail me, or whatever!) I am dying to hear more stories about you all!

Light, love, red wine–
Amanda