So…Let's Hang Out

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ContactGina Marie2014-12-30T18:31:57-08:00

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soletshangout

🍁 N E W G R O W T H 🍁 I hadn’t noticed y 🍁 N E W G R O W T H 🍁 I hadn’t noticed you You were busy Budding and unfurling Becoming something new Leaves bursting towards sun Little red and green leaves crying out with joy “I’m here!” My mind was too busy to notice Too stuck in the grooves and loops of my own design to see That things change That you arrived That you’re no longer simply a bud That you are complicated and beautiful That we both weathered a winter That we’re both still standing Maybe even unfurling in unison Side by side Sun on our faces with deep roots Ripe with change With a timely grief Each of us shedding what had to die Tussled by messy heartbreaking gusts of wind Making way for new growth. #spring #hope #joy #grief #japanesemaple #maples #growth #changeisuncomfortable #gardening #poetsofinstagram #poem #poetry #10minutepoem #2021 #mentalhealthmatters #itsthelittlethings #honestinsta #🍁
Good Morning. ☀️ Or, is it afternoon? Who’s Good Morning. ☀️ Or, is it afternoon? Who’s to say. I would like to speak to Time’s manager. Yes, I’m going to Karen this daylight savings time and shake my fist in the air wildly—which will feel good briefly, but ultimately accomplish nothing. Then, I will send you this letter... Sir, Madame, or To Whom It May Concern, you appear to be drunk on the job. I do not come to this conclusion lightly or without cause. For, 9am feels like 11am for no good reason and 8pm like midnight and 11pm is clearly 3pm. This is displeasing. I appreciate the extra hour of daylight in concept, but the acclamation of body and mind feels less than ideal. In truth, because I create my own working hours I understand that it’s not that bad. But, for dramatic purposes, YOU ARE RUINING MY LIFE. I hope you felt me shaking my fist in deep displeasure. It’s not me, it’s definitely you, and I’d like to break up. Have a bitchin’ Summer, Gina Eykemans, NC PhD in erroneous complaints #iwokeuplikethis
Last night was full of Burmese takeout and a wild Last night was full of Burmese takeout and a wild living room dance party. We took turns swapping out the vinyl—curating a playlist of nostalgia. Showing off our best (and worst) moves. Sweating out garlic noodles, butter shrimp and stress hormones. We were free for a solid 30 minutes of anything and everything else except love, movement, sweat and bellyaching laughter. There are so many things I worry about and that gnaw at my brain with a force, but not for those 30 minutes. I woke up today grateful. For love that endures. For having someone I’m excited to see in the mornings. For sore muscles that allowed me to do an interpretive dance to Dracula’s Wedding. For having no coworkers, since I’m sure we will both be sweating garlic until we’re dead (It was worth it). For sweet kisses from both my human and K9 companion before they decided to go on a run in order to beat the rain. For rain that quenches thirsty hills and springs up wildflowers and green grass. For the thought of these cookies. Simple ingredients baked up into indulgence. Peanut butter and chocolate having a meet cute as one is dipped into the other. A love story for the ages. SHORT VERSION: You should make these cookies from the archives. They are on my website. Find a link in my profile. Or google “soletshangout peanut butter and chocolate cookies”. https://soletshangout.com/dark-chocolate-dipped-peanut-butter-cookies-gluten-free/ #cookies #peanutbuttercookies #peanutbutterandchocolate #f52grams #thekitchen #bakinglove #glutenfree #grainfree #simplerecipes #holisticnutritionist #lovestories #itsthelittlethings #gratitude #chocolate #peanutbutter #soletshangout
17 years. That is the number of years since our f 17 years. That is the number of years since our first date. Two kids, two big plates of Italian food, one drunk waitress waxing poetic about how we made such a cute couple. I drove. You paid. Your shirt hung large on your frame—red plaid like a tablecloth. Your eyes sparkled. I bought a new denim skirt and a tank top that was properly low cut. You told me my eyes were beautiful, and I laughed. Like, from my belly. You were so sincere, but I thought it was a line. You’re not good at lines, but I’d find that out later. I invited you over to meet my cat. An actual cat, you perverts. This is not a sexually charged metaphor. But, respect. The cat fell in love with you, As I would soon after. We watched Amelie. I waited for you to make your move. I got frustrated and said “so, are you gonna kiss me or what?!” So, you did. I’m sure you were scared shitless. Because, I was impatient and bossy and a girl with an unexpected crush and an unexpected amount of cleavage. We kissed. I drove you home. Then you kept showing up. You still keep showing up. Time accelerated in a way that breaks my brain. We’re still two kids, sitting on a couch, with the same cat and a bonus dog. Who knew that night would change our lives. And, 17 years later I’d still welcome making out with you while watching French movies. Let’s never stop dating. PS. This first picture is from our second or third real date. We are 19 and 22. He’s wearing the same shirt he wore on date number one. It still hangs in our closet like a precious relic of our love story. ♥️
Sometimes the light feels like too much. I can fee Sometimes the light feels like too much. I can feel my reflexes sharpen, As if each beam is hitting a nerve. I close my eyes as refuge from it’s unconscious assault, heart pounding, mind coiled in anxious rhythmic knots. Sometimes the light feels crisp and cutting, A cloud passes and turns the belly of every object blue, Me too. Sullen without a tangible reason Except each tender wound that has yet to heal. But will they? The calendar stopped marking time, Mind lost its metronome, Body still counts each impact: The isolation, My mask hanging by the door, Counting to fourteen, Holding my breath, Repetition without cadence, The white knuckled unknown, The trauma that spills the kind of blood that a tourniquet cannot slow, When the light isn’t right, When the trigger is pulled, Ever changing, Never predicting When the joy will come, When the cloud will dip under the sun. The feelings oscillating like the weather, Afraid to hope, Afraid not to, Afraid if you see these words you’ll know that I’m not the answer’s keeper To a way through, My expert does not extend to whatever this is. I hesitate to be, to share, to post, to air That I am Just a human Perhaps as bruised as you With muddled words—like fresh herbs left lifeless rubbed between soft fleshy fingers. Crushing life until it feels impossibly thin, No boundaries between death, Or what’s about to begin, Just the melodic scent of something beautiful, Sun beams on flushed cheeks, The light returns its mood, I pray for a proper dose of it’s unbridled medicine, Knowing all too well, Sometimes the light feels like too much. #mentalhealthawareness #ptsd #cptsd #honestinsta #oneyear #mentalhealth #mentalhealthmatters #mentalhealthishealth #allthefeels #vulnerabilityisstrength #poetry #poetsofinstagram #15minutepoem
Happy International Women’s Day to all that iden Happy International Women’s Day to all that identify! May you be happy, may you be healthy, may you continue to shine bright, nurture yourself, take naps, drink water, be exactly who you are, and kick ass by being a living, breathing, fully valid human. ♥️🌈💁🏽‍♀️ With Love, 2/3 of women in this 🏡 🐶🙋🏽‍♀️ Ps. Gunther the 🐈‍⬛ is technically a woman, but thinks gender is a real binary construct. So, they’re on a heat pad doing cat stuff.
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Nutritionist, blogger, writer of bad puns, stories & recipes. I probably have chocolate in my bra, and a song in my heart. Winks at strangers when anxious.

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SoLetsHangOutGina Eykemans, NC@SoLetsHangOut·
17 Mar

Just posted a photo @ Novato, California https://www.instagram.com/p/CMh_eS-ACXO/?igshid=gluw1656q154

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SoLetsHangOutGina Eykemans, NC@SoLetsHangOut·
14 Mar

Just posted a photo @ Novato, California https://www.instagram.com/p/CMaVbYsgGId/?igshid=1q26zqdyli4yj

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