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What’s the Beauty “BUZZ”??

Recently I found this amazing product and I just have to share it with everyone I know!! Being only twenty years old, I still try my hardest to combat any signs of aging before it even has time to hit me! Like any other women, (at least I think), we will do anything to stay looking as youthful as we can for as long as we can! While some people like to spend more money on procedures to reverse the aging process by using Botox and other very expensive treatments, others like to fight it by not having to spending as much but while still achieving great results! In my opinion, I do typically think that the more you spend (and this goes for everything), the more you get out of some thing!! But, with that being said… Dundundun! The Queen Bee of all face creams: Beenigma! I have been absolutely loving this stuff! And if you’re wondering about the whole “bee” thing… Well, this all-in-one face cream actually is derived from actual bee VENOM. Yup, that’s right, venom! Kind of scary when you first think about it, but when you actually learn what it’s doing to your skin and when you see the results, it really is the bees knees. I bet you’re wondering how bee venom has anything to do with fighting wrinkles and making you look more youthful, so I’m here to tell you what I’ve learned about it! So basically just think of it as getting tiny bee stings all over your face (just what every one wants, right? haha!), but really, everyone’s been stung by a bee before, and what happens? Your skin swells up! That’s exactly what the venom in the cream does to your skin! Your skin reacts as if you’ve been stung. You’re probably thinking “Ouch! I am not rubbing that stuff all over my face!!”, but actually, inflammation is not a side effect and it does not feel like a bee sting, maybe just some tingling as first! The result? Any fine lines are instantly reduced, filled in and skin is plumped, has better elasticity, and has a more smoothed appearance and feel to it! Plus, the more you use it, the more effect you’re going to get! I’ve only been using this product for a few weeks, but already see awesome results! Of course this products is not suitable for any one with a known bee allergy, because that’s just pretty self explanatory. Like I said before, being only twenty, I may not have as many signs of aging as others, but we all want to look our best and feel our best and I think the first step to that is preventing the things that make us feel not so glamorous. The cream is also made with ingredients like Manuka Honey and Shea Butter, which are both very soothing. Manuka Honey has a very high grade of antibacterial factors, which make it great for acne and keeping your face clear, defiantly being a big plus! Packed full of amino acids, minerals and vitamins, Manuka Honey has much more healing power and anti-aging capabilities compared to normal honey! Overall, it’s just an awesome product, I totally recommend it any one looking for a new skin cream! As for my skin care routine, I use Beenigma in the morning after I wash my face and at night after I have used my Clarosonic brush to get my makeup and gunk from the day off! Very little goes a long way too, so don’t be alarmed by the size of the container! Oh! And as for the price, not being the cheapest at $130 a container, it gets the job done, and in my opinion it is TOTALLY worth every cent as every last drop of this product is gold. Beauty is pain, well not in all cases, but pain can come from too-high price-tags. Haha! ...

C: Courage – What It’s Really Like

This post is part of a series titled, “A-B-Cs – What It’s Really Like”. Each week a new letter and its word will be revealed. Each word’s explanation will illustrate significant personal meaning, application and ultimately demonstrate, What It’s Really Like… When is the last time you experienced something that was absolutely terrifying? If you survived it, chances are courage played a factor in overcoming the obstacle. Courage comes in all shapes, sizes and various forms. Some courage is engrained or inherited. Some courage needs to be coached. Some courage requires liquid libations. Regardless of appearance, courage is structured similarly at its core. I thought back to times in my life where courage has played a role in the outcome. Learning to ride a bike, to swim and to drive a car are all occasions where a great deal of courage was required to master certain foreign skills. Courage is linked to three other attributes. I believe each of these words have to occur in order for courage to ultimately be achieved. They also happen to each begin with the letter ‘C’: Confidence –> Conviction –> Commitment = Courage My father did not believe in training wheels. This was either because he thought we would learn to ride a bike quicker without them or simply because the matching bikes he bought my brother and I did not come with them. Confidence. He convinced us that all we needed was to trust him and believe that we could ride the bike. Conviction. Was I able to ride without falling my first time? No. In fact, I fell several more times before my father let go of the back of my seat. In order for me to ride without assistance I needed to practice. Commitment. I learned to ride a bike before my parents paved our driveway. The entire driveway was gravel limestone. The stakes were high for learning to ride correctly; otherwise it may result in a deeply skinned knee. My parents did not want me riding toward the road. We would start practice rides at the end of the driveway riding back toward the house. The last thing you are taught when learning to ride a bike is steering. Most of the focus is on balancing the bike while pedaling. As our driveway got closer to the garage the turnaround area, it immediately made a 90-degree turn to the left. The driveway itself sat up on a hill that was graded away from the foundation of the driveway and the house. If you continued to go straight after the driveway ended it would take you down a short grassy hill into the backyard. As I stated before the last thing you think about when learning to ride a bike is steering. Eventually, Dad let go in the driveway and I was pedaling straight down the gravel drive, down off of the grassy hill and into the back yard. The final thing you learn to do when riding a bike is braking. While riding for the first time down a hill without knowledge or skill to steer or stop the bike I made a bee-line straight for the solid aluminum slide and swing set in the backyard. One of my first solo rides came to an end after crashing into the slide. My first ride was certainly not my last. In this case, getting back up on the bike and riding again is the metaphor we are all looking for. Courage. Courage does not grow as we get older. No matter your age, doubt can loom around every corner. The scariest moments that I can recall in my adult life have been marriage, moving away from home and fatherhood. The hardest parts of my marriage were before it even began – all of which required me to speak. Asking my wife’s parents for her hand in marriage, proposing and repeating vows from our pastor during the ceremony were most terrifying to me out of fear that I might misspeak and mess up. It took a lot of help from the “three C’s” to give me the courage to stand and deliver in those situations. I will never forget the first night we brought Little B home from the hospital. During our days in the hospital I was instilled with confidence and conviction that I was fully prepared to do whatever was needed to care for our newborn baby boy. These feelings were validated by my wife and nursing staff after I was able to accomplish required tasks in a relatively uneventful two and a half days after he was born. We would be sent home at the normal time. Little B easily acclimated to his new home during the daylight hours. Around the time Mommy and Daddy were ready to turn in for the night he began to cry…and wail…and scream. To this point, I had never heard or seen anything like the sounds or emotions that he was exhibiting. During the near 90-minutes that he cried in my arms I began praying and questioning aloud to my wife, God and whoever else might be listening that the people at the hospital did not know what they were doing and sent us home too early. As his crying continued, I remembered my confidence and conviction that I built taking care of him at the hospital. It didn’t matter to what level I was at in either trait – this child was now ours and I was committed to giving him whatever he needs. I used faith (something that will be written about in a later post) in my abilities to step up and meet the needs of the situation. Courage. I will end with a final thought from a journal of quotes that my late Grandmother kept. I refer to it often and its contents may frequent some of my regular posts. “Don’t be afraid to take a big step when one is indicated. You can’t cross a chasm in two small jumps.” ...

The REAL Reason American’s Celebrate the 4th of July

Do you know the REAL reason that American’s celebrate the 4th of July? We’re willing to bet that you don’t (see video below). So, before you embark on your Independence Day celebrations, you may want to freshen up on your US History and remember what the decorations, cookouts, and fireworks are all about. But don’t rush off to Google, WIRL Project has you covered! Here is an excerpt from ILoveLibraries.org to make you sound like the smartest guy (or girl) at the party: … July 4th is so special is because it’s Independence Day, a holiday celebrating the anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. In 1776, founding father and soon-to-be president, Thomas Jefferson wrote what is now the United States’ most famous and cherished document to give a list of grievances against King George III of England. It was written to justify the colonies breaking away from the mother country and becoming an independent nation. Revised by Benjamin Franklin and John Adams, the Declaration of Independence was signed by our founding fathers and accepted by Congress on July 4,1776. But the spirit of Independence Day is not only about the United States officially becoming a country. It’s about celebrating the values that the country was founded upon… Independence Day celebrates those very ideals of democracy, liberty and the pursuit of happiness and is for anyone who finds faith in the words “all men are created equal.” But … it is also a holiday to remember and honor those first Americans who made sacrifices to create the Republic and then defend it over the years. Oh, and here’s a video to prove that American’s really don’t have any idea why they’re celebrating. Don’t let this be you! Enjoy and Happy 4th! ...

I Don’t Need a Huge Tribe, Just A Small Circle

Over the past month or so I’d given myself the same morale-boosting pep talk dozens of times: “I know it’s scary, but you can Do This! You can learn from experts! You can talk to people who are passionate about the same things you are! You can FIND YOUR TRIBE!” I was preparing myself mentally and emotionally for my first Blog Conference. I was about to step out as a Blogger, to begin this new chapter in my life as something more than just Mommy. It was my debutante ball of sorts, but with less High Society and more Middle School Awkward. I was scared to death. Besides the worry over the talking and the listening and the learning and the networking keeping me up at night, I was also nervous to leave my babies. I’d never spent two nights away from my kids. I knew they’d be fine without me. I’d miss them more than they’d miss me, but still: It was going to be hard. Then, after weeks of worry and nervous anticipation, it was the first weekend in June and I was there on a small, beautiful campus in Baltimore, ready to Get Schooled, ready to Take My Blog Beyond, ready to find my Tribe. Ready…or not. I started the first afternoon by attending an informative and helpful workshop on Writing and Editing. Taught by experienced bloggers, writers, and editors, it was a crash course on when you may need to hire the services of a professional editor and what you can expect the process to be like. I headed from there over to a class called Mastering Pinterest. It was exactly what it promised to be: A How-To course on the secrets and tricks to conquering the Pinterest algorithm to drive traffic to your site. Taught by the Queen of Pinterest herself (she must be, she’s a Pinterest genius), the course provided real-life tips on making your posts pinnable and your pins searchable. It was great ready-to-apply information that could make a difference in your blog traffic immediately…if you’re ready to Master Pinterest, that is. I have an account. I think I’ve pinned five things and they’re all my own articles. I know that’s not how you Do Pinterest, but I don’t get Pinterest. I don’t want to get it, yet I furiously scribbled notes during the class, believing that to be the Blogger I want to be, I’d better figure out the Pinterest Beast, and fast. I left the session feeling completely overwhelmed. Add to that the fact that I still wasn’t sure how, exactly, one goes about “finding her tribe,” and the fact that I stayed up way too late listening to brilliant writers read the best of their best, and the fact that I woke up way too early for not having a 3-year old in my bed and two bigger boys whispering in my ear that “It’s morning! Let’s go downstairs, please, Mommy! Now, Mommy!” and I just lost my shit. It was 5am on Saturday morning, with most of the weekend still stretched out before me, and I sat on my bed and cried. I called my husband: “I don’t belong here! I don’t want to Master Pinterest! I don’t wanna find my tribe! I already have one and I miss you guys…I want to come home!” Sam reassured me that he and the kids were, somehow, managing to survive in my absence and that I should NOT come home. “You’ll be glad you stayed once it’s over,” he said. “Just stick it out and don’t try to be something you’re not. If you don’t want to Master Pinterest, you don’t have to. Just try to have fun.” So I put my brave face back on and went to breakfast. On Saturday, I learned a few things: I don’t have to Master Pinterest. I don’t have to build a Facebook community or have a Fans of my Blog Page. I don’t have to become a brand….but if and when I choose to, I’ll know what to do and how to do it. All I have to be is authentic. That’s it. That’s enough. The women who organized the conference and who taught us what they’ve learned about Blogging as a Business, Making Money as a Writer, using Instagram, and Building Your Book from an idea to a hard copy you can hold in your hands, know exactly what they’re talking about. These women are smart, driven, hard-working, and highly accomplished. They’re inspirational and supportive. They’re also funny as hell. I learned that I don’t need a huge tribe to feel supported. I need a small circle of real friends. (I found some!) I don’t need a million page views a month or for an article to “go viral” to accomplish my goal. My goal is simply to write. I learned that, if I want to write for an audience, I need to write and write and write and to submit and submit and submit. I can do that. I want to do that. I don’t have to do more than that…I don’t have to BE more than that. But I’m keeping my notes on Pinterest…just in case I change my mind. That shit was gold. Lesson Learned: I did it. I saw the boundaries of my comfort zone and I stepped over the line into uncharted territory. I defined my goals: I want to write. It’s as simple as that. One of my favorite lines of the weekend came not from a session but from the lunch table: My friend Jen said (and I’m paraphrasing here because I had put my notebook away), “If you’re going to be a writer, you’re going to have to hustle. Might as well hustle for something you’re passionate about.” I’m not passionate about becoming a brand. But I’m ready to hustle for my writing. I’m glad I went. I’m glad I stayed. I’m glad Nickelodeon hosted the Saturday night party because, damn: I haven’t danced to Sir Mix a Lot or The Bangles in way too long. *This WIRL was originally published on Live Laugh and Learn Join The Conversation! Easily contribute your story here. About the Author… Sarah Harris is a mom, a writer, and a filterer of photos. She is constantly seeking Peace & Quiet and Additional Storage on her phone. You can find her at Live, Laugh, and Learn, on Twitter (@skh4102), and on Instagram (@sarah.livelaughlearn). Her writing has been featured on Scary Mommy, The Mid, BonBon Break, and Mamalode, which almost makes up for the fact that she hasn’t been able to drink a cup of hot coffee without reheating it in eight years. ...

An Open Letter To The Parents Of My Players

Dear Parents, Let me begin by first thanking you for the opportunity to coach your son. It is an honor and a privilege to have the ability to work daily with young men, helping mold them into upstanding citizens through the game of baseball. It is a tremendous responsibility that I take very seriously. Baseball has the ability to teach young men a lot about life. Humility, respect, and accountability are just a a few characteristics and traits that can be developed from this great game. Players build confidence by encountering adversity through competition – a distinguished environment that teenagers need to be exposed to as early and as often as possible in order learn from and manage its outcomes. Lessons learned on the baseball diamond are vital to understand that in life, success is earned and not easily obtained. Baseball offers players the chance to learn the difference between entitlement and earning it. Too often we are societal victims of instant gratification and front-running with the winners until they are no longer winning. Players build confidence by encountering adversity through competition – a distinguished environment that teenagers need to be exposed to as early and as often as possible in order learn from and manage its outcomes. The unfortunate side of the great responsibility as your son’s coach are the many difficult decisions I am faced with each season regarding the 18 players on the roster, as well as the rest of the entire baseball program. The biggest decision of each season occurs well before we step foot on the field. Each season I decide to volunteer my time to coach your sons and teach this great game. Although I receive a coaching stipend, by the end of the season it calculates to pennies per hour for the amount of time my fellow coaches and I spend with your son. I assure you, I am not in it for the money. The season is roughly October -July. Over that time period I spend, on average, approximately 20+ hours per week with your son (excluding Sundays). This is nearly four times the amount of time that I get to spend with my own son. During the season, I get to see my son during waking hours for a maximum for 45 minutes per day, in the morning before I leave for work. I rarely get to see him in the evening because I arrive home from practice, or a game, well after he has gone to bed. This decision also impacts the relationship I have with my wife. Six days a week she is left handling all of the household responsibilities as virtually a single parent. I am fully aware of sacrifices that all parties endure when it comes to my annual decision to return to coaching baseball. I know what I am getting myself into and so does my family. I have one of the most understanding, loving families anyone could ask for. The season is roughly October -July. Over that time period I spend, on average, approximately 20+ hours per week with your son (excluding Sundays). This is nearly four times the amount of time that I get to spend with my own son. Some of the other major decisions I have to make revolve around managing playing time during the season. There are many things in this life that I am, and things that I am not. I am a man. I am a husband. I am a father. I am a professional. I am in my 13th season of coaching high school baseball. I have coached several players that have gone on to play at the collegiate level and professionally. I have evaluated and coached hundreds of players with more than enough experience to know how to coach the game and what it takes to win. At this level the game is a results driven business. Playing time is and always will be non-negotiable. Playing time may be discussed in the proper forum, in a professional manner with your son, and one of my assistant coaches present. Politicking, bullying or personal attacks over playing time in person, by email, text/phone will not be tolerated. There is nothing worse for a coach than to be confronted in the parking lot post-game or to get home after a long road game and to receive a blistering parent email right before going to bed. A coach experiences many sleepless nights, not out of concern over a reactionary parent email, but for the welfare and safety of his 18 sons. If an issue does arise, I ask that you carefully consider and reconsider your position AFTER discussing it with your son, before orderly asking for a meeting. I will be glad to address your rational questions and concerns. Baseball is one of the most difficult sports to coach because, at one time, the general population of young boys grew up playing Little League. Therefore, there is a large percentage of fathers who believe they have the ability to coach the sport because, at one time, they played and/or because they still watch it religiously on TV. Please do not be this father. Monday Morning Quarterbacking at home after the game, coaching from the stands, or giving your son in-game adjustments contradicts all that my staff and I have worked so hard to develop with your son. It also completely undermines the coaching staff and our philosophy. More times than I am willing to admit, I have been coaching during a close game and a boisterous father will scream directions to his son, from the stands, that directly involve in the play. The player immediately reacts to the sound of his father’s voice, makes a poor in-game decision, and it inevitably costs our team the game. Some of my favorite parents of all-time are those that were seen and not heard, allowing the coaches to do their job and coach. Baseball is one of the most difficult sports to coach because, at one time, the general population of young boys grew up playing Little League. Therefore, there is a large percentage of fathers who believe they have the ability to coach the sport because, at one time, they played and/or because they still watch it religiously on TV. Please do not be this father. If you see me off the field and I appear to be standoffish, I apologize. It is not that I want to avoid you. I simply do not have anything to talk about. I have nothing left to give you after I have left it all out on the field. This is how I coach. I bring nothing home at night after a game because I bring everything home. The short-lived wins, the long-lingering losses. Your son’s individual successes and defeats. I will always give my best to your son and I am asking for you to return the same towards our coaching staff and our program. Thank you again for allowing me to teach your son the greatest game ever played. Sincerely, Coach...

Angel Bumps

I met my guardian angels over ten years ago. It seems so trite to say it was a time in my life when I was running on empty. Hell, if I was a car, the gas tank would have rusted out completely. There’d have been a huge hole in the bottom that leaked gas as I pumped it in. They were my lost years. I really had nothing left to give…to anyone. My oldest of five, has emotional disabilities. Next in line son, decided to smoke pot and drink beer and get thrown out of school. The three younger ones were busy in every possible sport. I tried therapy, Outward Bound, grounding, talking, family counseling, reasoning and nothing worked. It only made things worse. We also owned our own business and ran the office out of our dining room. There was stress in every room. I went on a retreat with my women’s group to escape and try to refill my rusted out tank. While there we each got a massage. It was very serene with soft music playing and scented candles dimly lit the room. When the masseuse started, I sank into the massage table. My shoulders drooped from my ears. When she put her hand over my heart, my emotions went wild. I must have held so much in that I exploded. I was sobbing and so scared. I thought this must be a nervous breakdown. What the hell? I asked my angels to be with me. Within seconds two angels arrived and my body went pure calm. A feeling of complete peace came over me. I was sobbing and so scared. I thought this must be a nervous breakdown. What the hell? I asked my angels to be with me. The angel on the left stood steady. The one on the right started to turn when I calmed. The crazy feeling came back and I asked for just a few more minutes. She returned. I think what I felt was a slice of Heaven. I felt a type of love that was so encompassing and pure. I was content to stay in that moment forever. I remember thinking about Scott and the kids and for a moment, I thought they’d be alright if I stayed there. I knew I couldn’t do that, but I’d never find that feeling on earth again. After the retreat, I began giving angels to people having a difficult time. At my dentist office, the hygienist’s best friend was dying of AIDS. He got an angel. A friend lost his dad and he was heart -broken. He got a special angel. Newborn babies were given angels to watch over them. I gave out hundreds of angels. My intention was that they would each know the love that I felt in my angel visit. I wanted them to feel that warmth and peace in their heart and soul. After the retreat, I began giving angels to people having a difficult time… My intention was that they would each know the love that I felt in my angel visit. I eventually opened an angel store. My dad had passed by then a few years prior. I scheduled the grand opening to honor him on his birthday. The day of the opening, I sat at the desk and a bit of panic took over. “What if they all think I’m crazy? What if no one comes?” Just then a little lace angel starting playing the song, Somewhere Over the Rainbow. It was my favorite song my dad used to whistle. Rosie, an elderly woman, who would become a regular customer, tried to buy that angel every time she came in. I’d say, “Rosie, I can’t sell her. She’s my dad’s sign that the store is in good hands.” She grinned and fired back, “How about joint custody?” That was my first angel bump from my dad. There are many others from my dad over the years, but I’m saving them for my book Angel Bumps. After my Mom passed, I was driving to work in tears. I felt a hand on my cheek and I dismissed the feeling, because “What the heck was that?” I asked her for a “real” sign that she was alright on the other side. The light turned green. I made a right turn and within a minute, my car was surrounded with little white butterflies. It looked like a blizzard. I laughed out loud. “I got it, Mom!” I still get chills when I think of that day. That, my friends, is another Angel Bump. Since that time, a white butterfly arrives when I missing her. When my son graduated high school, my mom had been gone nine months. She would have been at the graduation with a big smile on her face. I was so sad that morning. I was having tea on our front porch when she flitted by. She proceeded to follow our family to the car, circling the front window, and then almost got in the car with us. My teens all knew about Nan’s sign so they were excited that “Nan is coming with us today!” At my son’s garden wedding rehearsal, she danced between him and his fiancé as they practiced their vows. I cried through the entire rehearsal wishing she could really be sitting with us. She was there in spirit, front and center. My mom loved, loved, loved her daughters and grandchildren. She never met any of my grandkids. A few weeks ago, my daughter called to tell me her twenty- month-old son had been playing in the back yard when a little white butterfly arrived. He chased her for half an hour, giggling with laughter. She’d fly high and low and buzz around him. He was totally engaged, loving this game. He never met my mom. He was calling the butterfly Nan. That is her Grandma name. A few weeks ago, my daughter called to tell me her twenty- month-old son had been playing in the back yard when a little white butterfly arrived. He chased her for half an hour, giggling with laughter. She’d fly high and low and buzz around him. He was totally engaged, loving this game. He never met my mom. He was calling the butterfly Nan. I decided to write Angel Bumps because I know the feeling I get when I get a sign. I can be having a really bad day and here comes that little white butterfly and I am on top of the world. I want others to experience the joy of realizing that people we think we’ve lost forever are still so close. The signs come to us. We have to be aware and believe. I have many others signs that I’ll save for the book. My hope is that after you read our shared stories, you will begin to notice your signs and feel the love they are sending. Once you have an Angel Bump, you will never be the same. You will know for sure, you are never…ever… alone. Each story is unique and will been shared with love. Please share your (1200 – 1500 word) stories if you are willing to be featured in Angel Bumps. Contact me at myangelbumps@gmail.com with your stories or questions. The deadline is July 31, 2015. Thanks so much and bless your hearts!...

What Italy Was Really Like | WIRL Project

Italy: What It Was Really Like

My husband and I travel often and to many places. Sometimes our trips are week long extravaganzas but normally they are a few days here and there set aside to explore smaller towns full of character. There are many trips that have been memorable. Quebec City and Montreal. Jekyll Island, Georgia. Ten days trekking along the Blue Ridge Trail in North Carolina and Virginia. Napa and Sonoma. It would be hard to pick a favorite, but last year we went on a trip to Italy with my husbands family and it easily became the best. Narrowing down what I want to touch base on and show photographs of is going to be tough! There is just so much to show, but I will do my ten favorite stops, what I loved most about each and I will try to keep it to a few photographs per place. Wish Me luck. We went on this trip to celebrate the 80th birthday of my husband’s great uncle, he still lives in the small village in Tuscany that my husband’s grandparents are from. And so does about 35/30 other cousins/aunts/uncles. My husband’s 98 year old Nonno even made the trip with us. The two of us went out a week earlier with my in laws to see Venice before meeting up with the rest of the family. We stayed in a lovely village about 20 minutes outside of Venice, Montegratto. It helps when your father in law is fluent. Venice Region Venice. I will admit that Venice itself wasn’t my favorite part of the trip. Way too busy when we were there in August, if you can, go during the off season. I still enjoyed myself. And, I cannot stress enough, don’t get a private water taxi, get on a public one. Just as easy and way less expensive!!! Burano/Murano These are two of the Islands just off of Venice that you can take by a water taxi. Murano is the glass blowing capital of the world. You can pick up some awesome trinkets here. Burano is more known for its lace…and for being one of the most colorful islands in the world. The houses were stunning and so bright. If you only have time to visit one of them…my vote is for Burano. Padua This enchanting city is full of universities and museums. Galileo taught at the university and a majority of The Taming of the Shrew by Shakespeare takes place here. One of my favorite sites is the Prato della Valle, the largest square in all of Italy and one of the largest in the world. It is stunning. Montegrotto/Villa dei Vescovi We stayed in the lovely city of Montegrotto, about a half hour train ride from Venice and about 15 from Padua. It is mainly a spa town for European tourists and everyone commented mutiple times how exciting it was to have Americans in town as there are not usually many staying there. I saw bourbon at the bar of our hotel one night and the bartender clapped and told me he had purchased it years before in the hopes an American would want it, well, this one did;) When we picked up our car at the end of the week, we checked out the beautiful Villa dei Vescovi, the summer home of the bishop of Padua. Then, I just knew we were going to die with my husband driving on these tiny Italian roads. Spoiler alert, we survived and at the top of this mountain I snapped the most glorious sunset I have ever seen and then we came upon the walled city with the best name ever, Arqua Petrarca. Lake Como Region Lake Como, what can I even say to bring justice to this majestic place? Words escape me. No questions asked, my absolute favorite place in all of Italy and it stole my heart. It took my breath away, on multiple occasions. Torno This is the small village we stayed in while in Lake Como. We had to walk down about 55 steps from the village center to the lake where our hotel was situated. It was small, intimate and bare bones. The family that owned it was incredible. The food was knock your socks off good, every single bite. The water ferries were super easy to grab right outside of our hotel entrance. However, maybe the best part, Robert De Niro stays at this hotel when he comes to Lake Como and they have a huge picture of him in the lobby. Tony’s nonno was the oldest guest they had ever checked into the hotel and they took his photo and are placing it next to the picture of Mr. De Niro. When we were leaving and heading to the family land in Tuscany, they ran after us and gave us wine and grappa to enjoy with our family upon arrival. Bellagio and Cernobbio We went to quite a few towns in the surrounding area of Torno, but these were the ones that stood out the most to me. The pizza I got in Cernobbio was the most scrumptious meal I have ever had, at least pizza wise. The view of the Alps from Bellagio blew my mind. Tuscany This was the main purpose of this trip. To see family, to see where my last name originated, where lots of family still live. Family members I have met on their trips to the US and to our wedding, but so many more that, until this trip, were just part of a story I had heard. Now they belong to my story. Nonno and Nonni are from a small village in Tuscany called Gassano. It is in northern Tuscany and about half an hour from Pisa and 45 minutes or so from Cinque Terre. Most of the family still lives in the sweet homes the families have lived in for hundreds of years. One cousin now owns an inn and vineyard and we were beyond lucky to be able to stay there for the duration of our visit. In the Inn at Pretola is located in Grangola, about 20 minutes away from Gassano. Robert, the chef…perfecto. It was perfecto. Gassano/Grangola Be still my heart. The sheer beauty of Como was my favorite place, but being in Gassano is what gave me all the ‘feels’, if you will. Our family, being with them in their everyday world, was the absolute best part of this trip. We arrived to the birthday party for Antonio and the food, oh my gosh, it just kept coming and coming. and it was incredible. We went to the village of Gassano and saw into their homes, built in the 1490s!!! We went to the top of the mountain and I discovered that yes, I can indeed get car sick. I vomited for a few hours and Nonno, at 98 years young, walked circles around me! I didn’t even care, that’s how enchanting this place and its people are. The beautiful vineyard. The small church from the 1500’s at the base of the family land. The bar. The view from Zia Maria’s house. The castle that was at the top of the mountain and surrounded in a mist of clouds every morning when we woke up. I savored every part of it. Cinque Terre I had seen so many gorgeous pictures. I had heard multiple people describe it as heaven on earth. Coming from the ferry and the first moment that I spotted the bright homes jutting out from the cliffs, one glimpse and I was hooked. I did so love this spot. The gelato was heaven. My risotto bolognese was to die for. The boats dangling in the sea. Lucca I must admit, of all the ‘cities’ we visited, this sweet walled one was easily my favorite. There was a slight drizzle to accompany the grey skies of the day, but nothing could dampen my mood. Actually, all of the colorful umbrellas were one of my favorite sights of the day. This was not a city I had really heard anything about before we took the trip and I cannot urge you to plan a visit to this charming place if you are going to be in Italy. Get here. Pisa If you have a chance, you must see the tower and baptismal. It’s almost surreal. You turn a corner and bam, there it is. It appears superimposed, even in person. I wish I had better verbiage to describe it, but quite honestly, it’s just really freaking cool. Calling this a trip seems to minimize what this experience was for me, for it was such a great adventure. Spending the time with my in laws, having my father in law teach me a few Italian words/phrases and actually being able to use them somewhat frequently (and correctly) by the end of our trip. These are memories that I will keep in my heart forever, but the ones that stand out to me the most are when my husband saw his family’s land and where they came from the first time. I teared up witnessing that moment. When we were leaving Gassano, Tony’s great aunt, Maria, hugged me and kept squeezing my cheeks and calling me “bella” while she cried. I didn’t quite understand what she was saying, but the love she had in her face, transcended language. The other biggest memory maker for me was taking this photo. They have all been to Italy a multitude of times, but this was the first time ever that Nonno had all five of his children there together and this captured the essence of the moment perfectly. I only wish Nonni had been there in person to witness her kids, but we got signs from her all trip. *This WIRL was originally published on The Whimsy One. Join The Conversation! Easily contribute your story here. About the Author… Maddie is a wife to Wiki and saved by grace. She says words could never sum her up. She’s a firm believer that bacon, bourbon, and books make everything better. You can find more of her work on her blog, The Whimsy One. ...

When My Pastor Said “Follow Jesus”, Did He Mean on Social Media?

At church, my pastor, David Chadwick, was giving his awesome sermon and he was talking about “following Jesus”. Leave it to me, being so actively involved in the social media world, to think to myself, If Jesus were on social media or had a blog and he showed up in my newsfeed, what would that be like? I’m pretty sure this is not what David meant when he said “follow” Jesus, but it really got me thinking. I began to think about the people I “follow” on social media and what impact they might have on my daily life and I also thought of what I might look like to those who “follow” me; what image do I portray and does it align with the message I’m trying to send? I think defining yourself in the social media world can be quite difficult because you have such a limited amount of space, characters, pictures, etc. to represent YOU. You have to scrunch your entire message into one photo, a few hashtags, or a status update and there isn’t a whole lot of room to explain what you mean or talk about what you really think. And even if you did, would others accept you? We all have a voice (some voices are “louder” than others) and we all deserve a fair chance to be heard. It’s how you choose to use that voice that can really define your character. We all have a voice (some voices are “louder” than others) and we all deserve a fair chance to be heard. It’s how you choose to use that voice that can really define your character. So think about it. If you’re negative, constantly ranting, bitching, and complaining online, what do you think people think of you? You may be funny, but is your sarcasm aimed at someone else’s expense? I think you see where I’m going with this, right? Is that the image you want people to see? Are you negative because you’re behind a computer and don’t have to face the repercussions of being rude or disrespectful? Or do you put up a wall because you’re insecure or lonely and desperately want someone to pay attention to SOMETHING you thought or wrote, even if it’s negative? Or are you someone who is filled with positivity, strength, and happiness? Do people smile when they see what you’ve posted or shared online? Are you displaying how loving and caring you are towards your family and friends? Is the REAL you shining through your posts? When you start to think about how other people might perceive you (like it or not, people are judging you by what you do, say, AND post) it can be a little scary. But it can also be quite interesting because YOU ARE A BRAND and people are judging your personal brand based on what you’re showing them and telling them. I’ve always been very selective in who I follow or what I “like” on social media – if I don’t actually “like” it, I’m not going to pretend I do or “pity like” something – I hate that! I try to be as genuine as I can be, I want my “virtual” self to match my “authentic self” or “personal brand”. I don’t photoshop (I do occasionally use an Instagram filter), I don’t say things I don’t mean, I don’t post things that aren’t true, or have ulterior motives. I don’t tell my friends one thing and post something completely different because I have nothing to hide, and seriously, to those who do this, who are you trying to kid? Because of my selectivity, I follow many incredible, amazing people online and I actually get inspired and happy as I’m scrolling through photos on Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook – I feel connected to these like-minded people and I love it. But, have you ever wanted to “unfollow” someone (and I actually do this quite often) because you’re sick of their annoying posts or messages? Yes! And sometimes I just laugh at the silly things they say about themselves, their hashtags, and their COUNTLESS selfies (and keep them in my feed strictly for entertainment purposes), but if I’m sick of their “brand” or I’m tired of them bringing me down – I get rid of them or click “unfollow” – I don’t need their crap in my universe! I try to be as genuine as I can be, I want my “virtual” self to match my “authentic self” or “personal brand”. I don’t photoshop (I do occasionally use an Instagram filter), I don’t say things I don’t mean, I don’t post things that aren’t true, or have ulterior motives. I don’t tell my friends one thing and post something completely different because I have nothing to hide, and seriously, to those who do this, who are you trying to kid? This brings me back to the “follow Jesus” idea. I was thinking about what Jesus (or whichever higher power you believe in) would post as a “status”, or even a WIRL, if He could and how positive and awesome His messages would probably be. It would be amazing to “follow” along as He touched lives and taught lessons in such a positive, loving, incredible way. Having His updates show up on my phone or computer would probably make me want to be a better person and it would help me to see his “good” more often than just on Sundays. Wow, just the thought seems cool, right? Then I thought, if I had the privilege to follow THE MAN himself, I’d want to keep my newsfeed clean, so not to “contaminate” or “dilute” His powerful messages, photos, and posts so they could have a greater, stronger impact on my life. So I would probably start to do some “weeding” of those who I follow – I’d get rid of anyone who doesn’t share the same message (notice I said “message” and not “beliefs”) as me (or Him), almost like a “social media cleanse” if you will, to get rid of the bad and start anew. Now, imagine this. You’ve cleansed yourself of the heavy weight of those who bring you down, you’ve shed the burden of the negativity, rants, and hate that appears on your usual social media feed and you’re only surrounded by those who share the same love, support, and inspiration for life and helping others as you do – wouldn’t that be awesome? Surrounding yourself with positive energy could really change your life – “follow” the good energy, toss away the bad. I mean, I’ve always been taught to “follow God”, but until I thought of it this way, it never really “hit home” for me. Call me crazy, stupid, or wacko, but sometimes you just have those “Ah-ha” moments where everything just falls into place. This was one of those moments for me. I mean, my whole life I’ve been taught to “follow God”, but until I thought of it this way, it never really “hit home” for me. Call me crazy, stupid, or wacko, but sometimes you just have those “Ah-ha” moments where everything just falls into place. This was one of those moments for me. So, this isn’t really about religion here, but it can be if that’s how you want to interpret it. What I’m saying is that if we look at the 21st century version of “following Jesus” and what that might actually mean if it were possible, it might mean that you would have “insider access” into the life of an incredible role model. We all have people we admire and we “follow” them online to peek into their lives and stay in the know. What we see on social media affects us, that’s why it’s such a powerful tool these days – it can make us happy, sad, jealous, frustrated, and even angry. Doesn’t it make sense to only surround yourself with people who build you up? “A rising tide lifts all boats”, right? What I took away from those two words at church last week was probably quite different than the intended message, but maybe not. I’m going to start shedding the negativity in my life by ridding of those who put it smack in front of my face everyday and I’m going to start following more people who I look up to. Truthfully, I think we should all do this and it’s so easy to do if you’re willing to make the change. So, if I “unfollow”, “unfriend”, or “unlike” you or something of yours – now you know why. You can chose to get mad or maybe you can chose to think twice about the messages you’re sending on social media. I challenge you to take a look at the life you’re portraying and ask yourself if it’s authentic. If it’s not, you might have some explaining to do, but don’t worry, I know just the platform to get you started! ...

I Chose to Love

This past Friday was a huge day. In case you’ve been without any sort of contact to the outside world, on June 25, 2015, the Supreme Court ruled that the constitution guarantees a right to same-sex marriage. “No longer may this liberty be denied,” Justice Anthony M. Kennedy wrote for the majority in the historic decision. “No union is more profound than marriage, for it embodies the highest ideals of love, fidelity, devotion, sacrifice and family. In forming a marital union, two people become something greater than once they were.” Marriage is a “keystone of our social order,” Justice Kennedy said, adding that the plaintiffs in the case were seeking “equal dignity in the eyes of the law.” I have to admit, when I woke up on Friday in my hotel room in Detroit (I was away for a Direct Sales event) I immediately had tears streaming down my face when I read the news. FINALLY! Friday’s ruling made my heart happy. Why? That’s easy, because I choose love. I chose to love when I was in college and a close friend opened up and told me that she was in a relationship with another female. She was the first person that I knew personally that was out. I remember the look in her eyes, the fear that I would turn my back on her when she announced her secret. I remember her telling me how it hurt when she heard other friends talk about gays. I remember her telling me “I didn’t fall in love with a gender, I fell in love with a person, with someone’s heart. Love does not have a gender” Wow. I knew from that day, that I was an ally, an advocate of love. Straight love. Homosexual love. Genderless love. Just Love. I chose to love when I sat with another friend while she came out to her parents. I held her hair back when she was so worried about what the conversation was going to be like that she physically made herself sick worrying about it. I remember closing my eyes and wishing that I wasn’t hearing the words correctly that were coming out of her parents’ mouths. The words of disapproval, ignorance, and hate. I held her as she broke down after the conversation and we spent the night watching Super Troopers and Napoleon Dynamite hoping that laughter would help erase the previous hours. I chose to love when another friend came out and after a year of harassment and hate couldn’t take it anymore and took his own life. He was only 22 and the words and actions of others over something they thought he “decided to become” could not be pushed out of his mind. I chose to love when a friend from my hometown expressed how much he needed to move to a town with more acceptance. So he packed up everything that he owned and with a close friend moved west, where he felt more free to be who he was. I chose to love when a relative brought his boyfriend to Christmas dinner this year and quietly introduced him as “a friend”, it was his quiet way of coming out to those of us that picked up on it. After a late night Facebook conversation with me assuring him that it did not change my opinion of him, he admitted how fearful he was that it would change how others in the family looked at him. It broke my heart that night… not because a relative was gay, but because he was so afraid that those that love him would change their minds once they found out who he loved. I chose to love when I watched the documentary “Bridegroom” and bawled during 95% of it. (It’s on Netflix if you haven’t watched it.) I cannot imagine having to fight to see my husband in the hospital or to not be able to have a say in his funeral if something happened. I cannot imagine not having basic rights as a spouse. I do not expect everyone to believe the same things that I do. However, I do expect others to understand that everyone should have the same rights. September 10, 2011 (yes, 9/10/11) was an amazing day. It was the day that my husband and I got married. We were able to stand in front of our friends and our family and declare our love. We didn’t have to worry if our marriage wouldn’t be accepted or honored if we left the state. For the longest time, I couldn’t imagine my friends and family not having that same right to share their love with those that they care most about. And now, because our country chose to love… I don’t have to imagine that anymore. ...

What It's Really Like to Lose 100 Pounds | WIRL Project

What It’s Like to Lose 100 Pounds

Today I was at the post office. Handing my I.D. to the clerk, she examined it, looked at me, and looked at the photo again. “Wow, you look really different!” I get that response often so wasn’t too surprised. I’ve considered ordering a new driver’s license since I’m slightly worried I’ll get stopped at the airport for not being the actual Sara M. Borgstede. (I’m really me, I promise.) “Thanks! I’ve lost a lot of weight,” was my response. How did you DO it? The next question I hear is usually, “How did you do it?!” I have a variety of possible responses: Short answer #1: I’m still doing it. Short answer #2: Therapy, prayer, exercise, life-style change. Slightly long answer #1: Therapy, more therapy, sweat, tears, food and calorie obsession, slow progress and back sliding then progress, prayer and railing at God and more prayer and trust, triathlon, exercise I hated, exercise I loved, support from my husband, time alone with my thoughts, emails with a dear friend who “gets it.” Weight issues are so public yet so private. We wear our addiction for the whole world to see in the form of unwanted pounds. I see the longing in the eyes of people who ask me this question. I know the desire I felt when I asked that question myself when I was at my heaviest. What was the secret that would get me out of the prison of food and weight obsession in which I was trapped? My struggle with my weight was the heaviest of coats I wore no matter the weather, the burden I carried and from which I never got a vacation. On my blog, The Holy Mess, I share in the 100 lbs lost series the outside tools I used to lose weight — which diet plan, which exercise methods and which foods I ate. None of those really matter all that much, though. I had tried and used those methods at least 50 times before, when I lost the weight and then regained every pound. Nothing on the outside will fix what is broken on the inside. Changing my thinking, my core beliefs about who I am, and my deepest realizations about the way God loves and accepts me, are what turned my life around. I’ve done it and it’s absolutely possible you can do it too! The 5 Keys to My Weight Loss The main keys to my 100 pound weight loss: Therapy. Not just with any therapist, but with one who knew about eating issues. All the diets and programs in the world didn’t work for me until I got my head on straight. An Accountability Program. For me that was Weight Watchers. For you it might be something different, but I had to have something to keep me on the rails. I started Weight Watchers online program about 6 months after I was going to therapy regularly. Faith. I’ve been a Christian all my life, believing in Jesus as my Savior. Through this journey I needed to rely on God in new ways. I also had to have faith that losing weight and overcoming my eating issues was really possible. At times it was just a tiny speck of light, but I held on to it. Support. Binge eating tends to be a solitary activity. Losing weight needs to be done with support. I couldn’t do it alone. I am here for you! Other people in your life will be too when you reach out for it. Exercise — later. Eventually exercise became a huge component to my weight loss journey, but I didn’t start with it. Do you struggle with your weight and fitness? Leave a comment below and join in the discussion. ...