It Matters

Today was full of delights.

Small moments to treasure had been happening all day, but I didn't stop to take an inventory of them as they were happening. It wasn't until I was listening to Andy and Jack and Joey laugh in the bathroom as they all took a bath together that I discovered that today was a good day.

As I was listening to them, I finished putting away the trappings of Christmas.

I tucked a luxury chocolate bar into my underwear drawer for the next sweet-tooth emergency. Isn't it nice to know that you have something scrumptious to indulge in on a day when you really need it?

I also cleared of my dresser, which so quickly collects clutter and lit a few candles. On top of my dresser I carefully placed my beautiful Christmas gift.

A several months ago I went shopping with a few girls with the express purpose of admiring beautiful things and celebrating our homes. Most of us have a tight budget, so we planned on finding something small that we could take home that would remind us that the tasks of our simple lives matter and that looking for beauty in the mist of those things is not only okay, but necessary.

We wandered the paths of Pier 1 and talked and laughed and each gravitated toward the sections of the store that might hold what we were after.

As I strolled my eye caught a beautiful lamp. I am not sure why it was so overwhelming to me, but the moment I saw it, tears came to my eyes. I know that is SO cheesy, but it is true. I've been living a long season where beauty feels hard to come by. I've felt outnumbered by people who love facts and reality and who have trouble seeing the value in the frivolous. In that company I've tried to think like I imagine they do. But I'm not built that way. I wasn't created that way. In trying to force myself into that kind of living, I've become disjointed, depressed and unable to find any footing that feels solid. Something about that lamp reminded me how important the lovely aspects of life are.

Not having a home of my own, while the lamp reminded me of the importance of beauty it also pressed on the tender part of my heart that believed that for now, my life - including beauty, is on hold. I so longed to claim the beauty of that lamp for my own and declare that beauty matters NOW, but I was still intimidated to say, out loud, that I need beauty for its own sake.

But I did say it. I told Andy that even if it sat in a box until we moved into our own space, I wanted to have it. I wanted to know that there was something to look forward to, even if it was just putting a lightbulb into a lamp.

So, like the wonderful husband he is, Andy bought me the lamp. It couldn't matter less to him what provides light to our home, but he is pretty smart about knowing when something matters to me. So even though he thought it was over-priced and not terribly sensational, yesterday morning I received a large box, with my reminder of beauty inside.

My original plan really was to just tuck it away. To hid it until everything in my life was just perfect. But that wasn't right. Didn't I just say that beauty matters now? If I keep putting it off and pretending like I can live without it, soon I won't recognize it when I see it. So I pulled it out. I put it together. And I remembered that life is good and that beauty is essential.

In the same way that I have suddenly realized that I need to actively invite beauty into my life, I recognized that creating is equally important. For me, to admire beauty is only half of the equation, creating it is the other.

So today I went and bought a canvas. When we moved I put all of my paints into storage but tomorrow I will be retrieving them.

I'm not sure what I will end up painting, but it will probably be purple. I'm really into eggplant these days.

And now, I'm sitting at the computer, watching the Biggest Loser finale and admiring a tiny box of Grey Salt Caramels that one of Andy's customers sent home for me. A woman I've never met. She was asking Andy about himself and after hearing his story she tied a bow on a tiny box and told him to take it home to his wife with a "bravo" and the encouragement that mothering is an important job.

Can I please be a woman like that?

It really was a good day. And tomorrow, when I wake up, expecting another morning of brain-fog and the familiar struggle of finding my footing an a season that has previously looked dreary, I will see my lamp, a true symbol of light in the dark and beauty in the ashes, and remember that there is hope.

And that beauty matters.

A New Experience

Today I had my very first facial.

I have always thought it sounded so luxurious to have someone take care of your skin for an hour, and I confess that my complexion is something that I often wish was more... hmm... perfect. So for Christmas Andy got me a gift certificate and today I redeemed it.

Side note:

I've been getting myself

all dolled up for

labor.

I realize that my due date is still

three weeks off,

but it would be a shame to be caught off guard

and go into labor with shaggy hair

or chipped toenail polish.

Actually, that wouldn't be a shame at all

since it would mean Joey was coming

and as I've already said, I'm eagerly waiting

that day...

All that to say, I've had a pampering

couple of weekends: haircut, pedicure,

new hair color and now

a facial!

The experience was slightly different than I anticipated.

It was odd.

But what may have been odd was not that the actual facial was different from my expectations, it was that it was so close to something I think I may have seen in a movie, that it felt totally staged. Like I was part of a comedy show or like there was a surprising plot twist awaiting me as I left the spa.

For starters, the woman who greeted me had a very heavy accent. I couldn't place it, but do you remember the heavy-set woman from The Fifth Element that was supposed to accompany Bruce Willis on his adventure to save the world? She sounded like that.

Actually, I don't think that woman had any lines in the movie, but she sounded exactly like you would think the Major would sound.

At least she sounded like that until she started poking at my face.

Then she started to sound like a gypsy fortune teller.

After getting me comfortably situated on the warmed table and wrapping my hair in a terry cloth turban, all the lights went out. I closed my eyes and I prepared to relax as Marie (the name of my esthetician) began massaging my face. She gently began in circular motions and I thought, "Oh! This is nice."

Then all of a sudden Marie switched into her gypsy voice. My eyes were closed, so I couldn't see her face, but the lights were all off, so I can't imagine how much of my skin she could see. I also couldn't tell if she was talking to herself or to me. Her voice was so soft and low.

"Hmmm... yesssss..." *Imagine a trance-like voice please*

"I feel the bumps." *Flattering, no?*

"I feel the blackheads." *Gah! You can feel blackheads?!*

Silence.

After those mystic-voiced comments the next few minutes proceeded in silence. She took off my make-up and kept smoothing my skin so gently. I started to relax again. She placed warm cotton pads over my eyes and then...

BLAST!

With no warning, the brightest light I have ever had pointed at my face was flipped on and felt like it was mere inches from my forehead.

Marie switched from mystic voice back to Major Fifth Element and said, "Are you ready to begin the extraction?"

"Uh, yep." *I hope that is the right answer!*

It is exactly what you think it is. She started to prod my face and attend to all those bothersome bumps and blackheads. I knew I had a few. But my goodness! People! I lost count.

I probably lost count because I was distracted by the return of the are-you-talking-to-me-or-to-yourself voice that kept making me think of crystal balls and hoop earrings.

"Oh, yes."

"Mmmhhmmm"

"There is more there." Push, pinch. "Ah, yes."

Each mumble was so satisfied. Like it was a true delight to see the little dirt particles make their way out of my dermis. At one point, after a particularly pleased grunt, she pealed the cotton from my eye and held up a mirror so that I could admire her handiwork. Oh dear.

We are teetering on the edge of way too much information, so I will spare you continued details of what apparently came from my face.

After many other pinches and minutes more of her muttering to herself, the lights went back out and she slathered a series of unknown products over my face.

After she had cleaned me up, she several times reminded me that "the redness" would be gone by tomorrow. She mentioned it so many times that I was a little frightened to look in the mirror. I anticipated a lobster-red face and disheveled hair... but instead, I was pleased to discover, that I mostly just looked like I do every morning before putting on my make up.

She advised a clay masque twice a week to maintain her hard work, and I obediently purchased it.

The experience may have been different than I had imagined (or exactly like I imagined - it is hard to tell which) but whatever it was, it has sure made me smile.

Merry Christmas to me!

And come on baby Joey, I'm all fresh faced and newly coiffed, so you can make your appearance ANY TIME!

And really, has anyone had a facial before? Was that normal?

I Feel a Rant Coming On

I'm sitting on my living room floor, folding laundry and watching the most recent episode of What Not To Wear. You all know how much I love WNTW... but guys. I feel a rant coming on.

As they often do, Clinton and Stacy are making over a poor, sloppy mom. It happens to be "Blossom." I can't seem to remember her real name just now. I never watched Blossom, but I like the way the actress talks. She is very well spoken and uses nice, big words.

But what is making me want to rant is that she keeps saying, "I don't have time for me." "I'm such a busy mom."  Blah blah blah!!!!

PEOPLE!!!

I can NOT stand this refrain that is sung over and over and over to, and from, moms. I am a mom. I get messy. My clothes get ruined. I get tired some days. I spend many, many hours with a baby in tow. But it does NOT mean that I only think about me as a mom and it does not mean that Jack is my ONLY consideration when I get dressed and it most defiantly does not mean that I order my life to accommodate every single whim of the small person in my home.

Where is the balance? How did it come to be that moms are expected to be 100% about their kids, but at the same moment are bombarded with magazine articles and makeover shows helping them "fix" their "it is all about the kids" attitude?

I know we are getting into sensitive territory. Motherhood is very personal. 

In addition to wadding through all the media stores, cultural expectations and church stigmas, moms also face the physical effects of sleep deprivation and hormonal fluctuations. The combination of these factors make it so hard to make decisions that we are proud of or even feel like we have a choice in how we do things. 

But doesn't something seem amiss?

I've pondered for the last few weeks now about writing about how I've come to view motherhood and the things I've been learning as a whole woman in this season. I am finding that I have strong opinions.

However, the timing doesn't seem quite right yet.  And, truth be told, it is frightening to put my thoughts about parenting out there to be criticized and questioned. I don't want to add to the mountain of information that is really just opinion.  I KNOW that what works for me will not work for someone else. I KNOW that what works for our family this week will most likely not work next month.

But I also know that I am doing my best to listen to the Holy Spirit and am trying to approach each day with a big perspective. Letting "mother" be an appropriate part of the whole. 

So maybe some day I'll work up the courage to publicly put to paper where Andy and I are coming from, and more importantly,  what we're moving toward, as parents. But for today, I will simply turn off yet another show that tries to tell me that all mothers must surrender themselves, fashion and soul, to their children. 

And I will pray for the moms that I know.

Pray for courage, for peace, for freedom from lies that have worked their way into family dynamics. 

To all of you moms, and yet to be mothers, I'm cheering for you. Our roles ARE important. You ARE a great mom. And you most defiantly can be the most stunning and fresh version of YOURSELF while you parent. 

So DO IT!

Guys...

Guys, today is haircut day.  

The last haircut day was kind of disastrous.  I am a little nervous.  

I fear my resolution to resist the call to worldly beauty is going to be tested beyond what I can bear today.  

I am hoping that I have good news to report, but if you don't hear from me, I am probably crying in my bed.  Or trying really hard not to cry because we have overnight company, and who wants to cry in front of their guests.  NOT ME!

Wish me luck...

He waved to ME

Okay, so I know everyone is dying to know about my clandestine appointment with Clinton Kelly.  

In my previous post, I had a few questions about how the day would go, let me address those first:

Were there guards?  No.  Unless you count the woman turing away those hopeful of catching a glimpse of C.K. but did not have a ticket.  Fortunately WE had tickets.  Also, there were women of all shapes and sizes present, though the presentation was geared toward plus-sized frames.

What did I wear?  As usual leading up to an event, my closet's contents seemed woefully inadequate, but I told myself to get over it.  I spent much too much time lamenting my lack and far too little time celebrating what I do have.  So I wore a pair of grey tweed-ish plants (long and straight, just like Clinton and Stacy advise - thank you Value Village), an apple green wrap top that looks quite good with my red hair and a pair of metallic purple peep-toes.  It was a pretty good ensemble.  

Did I win the $500 shopping date with Clinton?  No. But he did wave to me when he was in the store.  Probably because when I saw him my face flushed and my mouth kind of went slack and my expression was both one of awe, fear and delight.  But still, Clinton Kelly waved at ME!

Also, let me clarify something.  I know that it is silly to get so invested in a tv personality.  I'm not really obsessed.  I just enjoy being dramatic about some things, What Not to Wear and Clinton happen to be a couple of the things I like to be dramatic about.  That being said, here are some of the tips that I remember...

1. Shoes ALWAYS set the mood of an outfit.
   
2. Get professionally fitted for a bra.
   
3. Have your clothes tailored.
   
4. When you find a pair of jeans that you love, buy two pairs - one to wear with flats, one to wear with heals (Of course this means that you will need to have them tailored).
   
5. When assembling an out fit mix and match: color, pattern, texture, shine.
6. T-shirts do not count as clothes.  They are only acceptable for layering, loungewear or the gym.
7. To find clothes that fit and are fabulous - you have to try A LOT on.  He said that on average the women on the show try on 20 pairs of jeans before they find one that fits.

It was really such a blast to sit and listen to a charming, well spoken and handsome man.  I especially enjoyed his information about "what you don't see" on the show and his parting comments which advocated for women to embrace their beautiful selves and stop beating themselves up for not looking like the "fake" women in advertisements.

Thank you Clinton!

One of the startling things he said was that of the 240 women that he has worked with on WNTW, only two have been able to say they are happy with their bodies.  What a sad, sad number!  I left feeling very challenged to become one of those women and spur my friends on to the same.

Women are beautiful.  We receive so many messages that say we CAN be beautiful, but those messages are all conditional. If you buy this, if you wear that, if you change this, if you...

Am I willing to be the odd-woman-out and love the shell that God has given me to inhabit while on this earth?  Am I willing to talk nicely to myself, in private and in public?  Am I willing to ruthlessly edit the messages that I receive through media - cancel magazine subscriptions and delete shows from my DVR, if that is what it takes?  Am I willing to let others compliment me and receive those kind words as truth?  Am I willing to train my thoughts to dwell on the positive and stop comparing, stop chastising, stop chasing?  I think I am.

Are you?

The Chase

I wonder how many hours and tears and thousands of dollars I have spent in the pursuit of beauty.  

A lot of days (maybe... almost, most days) I feel like I keep my beauty cravings in check, but then a day like today comes along and I am reminded of the true state of my heart. 

Today was haircut day.  I intended to just look at a few pictures of styles before I went to my appointment, but before I realized what I was doing, I had spent an hour looking at pictures of Victoria Beckham's beautiful hair AND perfect face AND sculpted body and losing every ounce of confidence I've ever had, all the while forming a list of the items I simply must acquire to up my beauty quotient - none of which I actually need. Why do I so easily buy into the culture of beauty when I know it is not what I want? (actually, I really do want to be beautiful... just not in that worldly, expensive way)

The hope of coming home more lovely than I left is always there on haircut day. Sometimes I cry when I realize that a trim didn't change the scale or shrink my nose or give me more money to buy all of the high-fashion accessories that I crave. Sometimes I keep my head and heart straight and just go about the business of getting my hair cut.  And every so often I am able to be totally pleased with me, just the way I am. 

Today my hair turned out fine... but not like the picture of Posh (ya think?!).  I confess that left me disappointed.  Silly girl that I am.  Maybe one day I won't be won over by that foolish hope and cruel disappointment, but today, again, I was.

But here's the crux: 

I serve a creative God.  He thought of and executed everything beautiful on this planet.  I firmly believe that my love of beauty starts as something holy, delight in what He has crafted and designed, but it quickly becomes distorted, misplaced and cheap.  Instead of being in awe of HIM, the creator, I identify the creation and admire, verging on worship, it.  I want it to be the other way around.  I want to be transformed by the creator, not transfixed by the creation.

Oh Lord, please forgive me.  Change my heart.  Give me a new measure of beauty.  Make me aware of what influences me and what I allow to speak into my heart. Strengthen me to live in a way that admires beauty, but is not consumed by it. Thank you for your faithfulness.  And thank you for all things beautiful.

Facebook

Facebook.

Meh.

(Thanks for the word MEH Rosemary.  It will come in handy often, I can see that.)

I am pretty impressed with how many people show up as "people you might know" that I actually DO know, but I'm not really sure what to do now that I have a Facebook profile.  

What's the  point?

In other news, I was struck today by the fact that every compartment of my purse has at least one lip product in it.  I have a total of seven.  I'm sure that compared to some people, that is not a lot, but I was kind of amazed at the discovery.  Especially when I found myself justifying every one.

Burt's Bees Honey Lip Balm I need this one for when I can't find any of the ones that I really like.  It smells strongly of baby powder so I can only wear it when I know I won't be kissing Andy. Who wants to feel like they are kissing a baby's bottom?  I actually can't wear it around anybody it smells so weird.  I put it on one time in the car while I was riding with a friend and as soon as I put it on she said, "Do you smell that?  What is it?!" in a grossed out sort of voice. I had to suggest that it might just possibly be my "just in case" lip balm, which it was.  Okay, so maybe it is time to get rid of this one.

Burt's Bees Replenishing Lip Balm with pomegranate oil My FAVORITE.  It smells so nice and makes my lips feel so smooth and fresh.  My best kissing option.  

Goldie Lip Plumper  Okay, this is my other favorite.  I put it on over any color I use and my lips look like I should be a lip model.  After a fresh application Andy says, "Ooh, your lips look all kissable!"  but they aren't really because it is a little sticky and leaves that tingling sensation that means my lips are being plumped. Good for girls, not for boys.

C.O. Bigelow Vitamin Menta Tinted Lip Balm in Glacial Mint AND Baby Pink Mint (I also have Brown Betty Mint in my make up bag in the bathroom) This is my favorite color to have on hand.  It keeps my lips from looking pale, as they are apt to do, but its best feature is that it is super minty, so if my mouth feels funky and I'm out of gum, this at least covers the bad breath long enough to get to a tooth brush or drug store. 

Liplicious Tasty Lip Plumper in Candied Apple  This was the color I used before Baby Pink Mint.  Now that I have that, it seems redundant to keep it in my purse.  It's plumping powers pale in comparison to my Goldie and the color is only so so.  I guess this is where we part ways Liplicous. 

Garden Botanica lipstick in Sweet Joe The color standby.  I'll keep this one on hand because it also doubles as a little cheek color if I need it, which I always always do.  Poor pale me.

So anyway, now that you are up to speed on my lips, how 'bout that Facebook?  Lame, eh?  Or do I just not know it's connective powers?  Will I ever be as interested in FB as I am in lip gloss? I suppose only time will tell.

  

If You've Ever Wanted to be Fancy

What I really wanted to write today was an ode to Fall On Its Way, but to be perfectly honest, the autumnal feelings haven't hit in full force.  So I will save my emoting about the smells of cinnamon and clove and the perfect orange of pumpkins until the mood is just right.  I refuse to risk under-exclaiming about the most glorious of seasons.  

However, there is another topic that is near and dear to my heart and that I believe warrants reflection:  Fancyness.

I first discovered the power of "fancy" when I was spending my days with two tiny British dolls.  Olivia and Lauren, age one and two.  Anything that inspired awe, was lovely to see, smell or feel, any object or person that was better than good... received an exclamation of "FANCY!"  

Upon returning to The States I kept the word as an active part of my life and vocabulary.  An all-encompassing declaration of, "I love it!"  I have considered it not my own treasure, but have accepted the mission of sowing seeds of fancy and watching them bloom, bringing beauty, laughter, gentle teasing, and delight to the most ordinary of days.

You too can embrace the fancy lifestyle.  I am here to help.  Follow these simple tips and you too will soon be declaring, "How Fancy!"

#1: Believe it!  Fancy is a mindset.  Look at yourself in the morning and say, with conviction, "I am fancy!  I am fabulous!"  Don't be surprised if after a few days you start walking with a little extra swish.  Here comes fancy!

#2: Accessorize!  Fancy is all about making the ordinary special.  Take a white tee-shirt and a pair of jeans.  Alone, the combination is a little timid.  But add a dash of "something extra" - perhaps a turquoise beaded necklace or a great scarf, and you suddenly have Fancy! My personal favorite from the accessory world is a pair of giant earrings, but you could decide that you are more of a bangle gal, or that a really fantastic handbag is what makes you feel fancy.  Whatever it is, go for it!  If you are new to the world of flair, feel free to start with one piece.  Before you know it you'll be pairing dangly earrings with great heels or purchasing a pair of white sunglasses.  Watch out!

#3: COLOR, COLOR, COLOR.  Use it, love it, play with it, never fear it!

#4:  Develop your vocabulary.  After you have adopted the fancy mindset, you find that ordinary words like "nice" just don't convey what you want to say.  Make friends with the thesaurus and begin using less-common words.  Instead of nice, try agreeable, charming, or delightful.  Instead of funny, try droll.   Instead of grumpy, try peevish.  An interesting sentence always attracts attention.

#5:  Enjoy simple pleasures.  Simple pleasures are those moments that you want to share.  A quaint scene that you talk about at the end of your day, or a private moment that makes you smile as you remember it.  They happen every day, we just need to be looking for them.  Set a goal of sharing one simple pleasure with a friend each day.  You can increase your capacity by adding the number of friends you share with, or trying to increase the number of simple pleasures you identify during the day.  I will share with you that today, my simple pleasure was seeing a white-haired man driving and eating an orange popsicle!  I was also pleased to notice that my refreshed hair color happens to be a near-perfect match to the interior of my car.  Oh what delights! 

These are the bedrocks of living fancy, however other simple practices can advance your study of this lifestyle, should you choose to employ them.  Additional recommendations: wear dresses as everyday clothing, learn to walk in heals, smile as often as you can, spend time doing something interesting, learn a new skill, compliment others on their fancy attributes.

Please know, I am simply a student like you.  I welcome tips and tricks you have found helpful and am comfortable in the fact that there is always more fancy to be gained.

So from one life-lover to another I say, "Eat, drink, and be Fancy!"

Overwhelmed

I'm overwhelmed.  In an good, amazed sort of way.  

Here's what my life looks like at this moment: 

Jack is snoozing and I just finished a thrown together lunch (nachos with cheddar and feta cheese - not very Emily like, but it is what I had in the fridge - and I like it) and ice water.  The Olympics are on in the background, Parenting magazine is open on my living room floor.  

My life is lovely.  My husband adores me and tells me so.  My baby is happy and healthy.  I have more than I need.

I live in a world that is assaulted by media that sells fear, guilt and discontent.  It is commonplace to hear those emotions seep into conversations.  Fear from Christians that they aren't living God's will.  Guilt from mothers that they aren't providing the most perfect environment for their precious babies to thrive.  Discontent from everyone that gas is too expensive, they can't afford brand name jeans and he said this or didn't do that. 

I think we get in the habit of being unhappy.  It seems unfathomable to live without those emotions.  Impossible.  Even scary.  If I'm not discontent, what will I be?  If I look at myself in the mirror and say, "I am just right" people will think I'm a snob.  If I don't stress constantly about whether or not I'm in God's will, will people think I'm not seeking God?

But it is for freedom that Christ has set us free.  This week I feel like I am catching a better glimpse of who Jesus is and why he would humble himself to save me.  I am loved.  I am a deliberate creation.  When God says he has a plan for me - a plan to prosper me and not to harm me... I believe him! 

What a difference to live with hope, with a humble confidence (in Jesus, not myself), with joy, with wonder and delight in simple things and to face each decision with confidence that God is not testing me or disappointed with me.  I am his daughter.  He knows what he has created me for - for love, for joy, for peace, to add beauty to this world and to call out giftedness in those I meet.  

I am indeed overwhelmed to tears.  God is present.  He is active.  And is is FOR me, not against me.  I feel burdened for the hearts that are caught in the cycle of trying to please and trying to perform and trying to prove themselves.  I have been there.  I will be there again, I'm sure.  But today, I see Jesus.  I walk with him and I am astonished that he walks with me, and enjoys it. 

There is approval in the Kingdom of God.  There is celebration.  Thank you Father!  Please help me to remember and live these things.  Strengthen me to live free of the burdens that come so easily.  And teach me to be a burden lifter.  Thank you for all you have done for me!

Pleased

I'm feeling kind of pleased with myself this morning.  I guess it is easy to feel pleased with yourself when a stranger approaches you at the coffee shop while you are waiting for a friend and says, "You are beautiful!" and then settles down to have a conversation about her life, only to interrupt herself with further breathless comments about your beauty.  

Yes, that did happen.  To me.  I don't expect it to happen again, but it was a nice start to my morning.  

My friend Christy also told me my outfit selection "would make Stacy and Clinton proud."  Oh what a compliment!  Stacy and Clinton are my tv friends.  When I buy something new I think, "What would Stacy and Clinton say?"  I guess it is working! 

But I feel pleased with myself for another reason. Yesterday Andy and I took a great big step toward our goal of being 100% debt free.  We sold our cute car.

  

This is our cute car.  Or WAS.  A Ford Focus, SVT, ZX5.  Bright, shiny red.  Leather seats with seat warmers.  Bright headlights, moon roof, a fancy CD player.  Sigh.  It was a good car.

But Andy and I are really working to free up our income.  In February we started looking at our finances and made some decisions that ultimately have allowed me to stay home with Jack, which was what I REALLY wanted to do.  I always thought, oh, we are in good shape.  We just have a couple of car loans and some student loans, no biggy.  But those "necessary" debts added up to more that $22,000!  Woah!  When we discovered that we started making serious moves to get rid of that baggage.  Now, just seven months later we have payed off $14,000! Yes, I am proud of that!

So what do I drive now?  I drive a '93 Dodge Spirit, faded maroon.  A cracked windshield, busted headlight, deployed airbag and a good ol' tape deck.  This is the life!  But at least I'm gorgeous driving it, right?