Winter Break

Well the blogger app has certainly improved since the last time I used it.

Things are a little busy right now in that we are finally moving into our own place and trying to figure out what our life here should mean. It seems overwhelming to find a place to write, among the piles of clothes and dogs.

But soon and very soon, all will have a place. And with that little bit of organization, words will come easier and sentences will flow. In the meantime, check back in January and I promise I will work harder than ever to make this blog something special.

Those Dark and Stormy Nights

I've had to fight the persistent urge to let out a long, loud groan every time I look at the sky.  When I look up, the sun is either just coming up or just setting.  If I happen to stay even a few minutes late at work, precious moments of sunshine are immediately sacrificed.  Days off seem significantly shorter, as if I unwillingly took a pay cut and I was always paid in vitamin D.  The dogs are crazy.  Cabin fever is setting in.  And this all is based on the assumption that it will not rain. 

But of course, it does rain.  A lot.  That's just how it is this time of the year


Something has been off lately.  Nothing has really changed.  Same diet, same activity level, same amount of sleep, same frequency of sock stealing by the yellow dog, same happenings at work, same relationship status.  But, something is still not right.  Its been creeping up slowly, a little bit of anxiety here and there, heartburn at times, and that familiar desire to just hide under the covers and start over tomorrow. 


It creeps up, in, until I see it in the corner.  What are you doing here? I think.

I got rid of you years ago.


But, you haven't lived here in awhile. K reminds me. 

The days are shorter here.  Its gloomier in the winter.  The sun coming through the basement windows was my savior of winters past. 


I thought I got rid of you.  I thought I was done with you. 


You're ready for this though.  K tells me.  You know what to do. 

When I Lived Next to I-5

In my early, early twenties, I lived just on the outskirts of the city.  School was a mile away and the mall and a Target were within walking distance.  I lived in a studio apartment which once allowed me to see the very tail end of the 4th of July firework show one Summer.  I swung one leg out the window, which never had a screen anyways, straddled the window sill and looked up at the sky, amazed, blessed, in love with where I lived.  The kitchen was a decent size and allowed me to cook on the nights that I didn't pick up my favorite Mexican food.  I walked Green Lake several times a week.  I was independent and had a fantastic sense of self. 

But, I was very lonely.  Twenty and living in an apartment rather than on a campus, I didn't fit in with the locals who had graduated and worked full time.  But, I didn't connect with those on the University campus or the local community college either.  K was back on the East Coast then and weeks after we reconnected, asked me point blank if I was lonely, and still remembers the pain in my voice.  Yes, I was, but I had the city and that was enough for awhile. 


It really wasn't hard, looking back on it.  A newfound diagnosis of depression didn't help but I thrived.  I thrived because I kept a routine, pushed forward, and started appreciating those little luxuries that make up life.  The bathtub was tiny, but bubble baths were a must.  I kept primroses on the railing across from the front door entrance.  Many days, I ventured downtown and just walked around.  I saved my money so I could buy buffalo mozzarella and really good olive oil.  If I was going to be alone at this time in my life, well, I was going to be good company. 

K stayed up til the wee hours of the morning to have our nightly chats. He experienced every season in Seattle before I moved East.  I felt the loneliest on the days when I left him at the airport and drove the empty highway by myself, listening to John Mayer songs. We would dream about the days when we could be together and not have to rush.  To just be able to grab a pizza and share it.  To window shop.  To waste a whole day watching tv together.  To walk through a farmers market.  To just be. 




All of it was important.  I was self-taught in that little apartment.  I was tested in Pennsylvania.  Now we are here, and the work doesn't stop.  We are always pushed to identify ourselves and find what we are looking for.  We have to combine that early relationship with the core experiences from PA, and mix it into this new environment.  I'm not the girl who hangs out of windows anymore.  We watch fireworks from the highschool parking lot.  Life is very different for both of us.  Still, we are together and the loneliness is gone. 





 

First

Okay, so it went like this: we got married last October, then moved across the entire country the following February.

They say the first year is the hardest, and I'm certain that most people say that without having to live with parents or in-laws.  Or move back home or to a new part of the country.  Infact, I would say that most people don't have to do anything really that hard, except pay bills and write thank you notes and learn how to get along, in their first year of marriage.  The really big stuff, the kind of stuff that makes life hard in general, has nothing to do with just getting married at all.  It just so happened that we had a couple of really big stuff kind of things mixed in there too. 


It was a very hard year.  But, it would have been that way if we had moved in five years.  It too, was a fast year.  In a blink, I went from the girl dancing in her hotel room with her only remaining bridesmaid with a veil on her head, to someone who doesn't think twice about stating her new name. 

It went that fast.  So, maybe it wasn't that hard afterall. 

We stayed the night in Seattle on what would have been the anniversary of the day before the day before our wedding.  Just us walking the streets of Seattle, just us checking into the Westin (which seemed way bigger last year), and just us quietly celebrating a year.  Not just an anniversary of a date, but a whole year of growth, discovery, fighting, frustrations, bills, and thank you notes. 

A whole year later, I find myself saying that I wish I could do it all over again.  I know that's not true because planning a wedding is a miserable thing to do.  But, one night of having everyone we love in one room, yes, that is missed. 

I would do it over, maybe, but I really just like being married.  I like that we are one year down.  We made it, although its not like we weren't going to make it.  I like that we don't expect things to be perfect because we had that one perfect, solid day last year.  I like that we only had enough to afford one night in Seattle, and didn't exchange gifts and actually exchanged cards the day after our anniversary because we were lazy.  I like that we ate burgers and fries the night that we stayed over and watched sports documentaries on ESPN.

 I like that I am a little bit different now and so is he. 

Fireworks

Last month in Sunset magazine, Scott Aker described Fall in the Pacific Northwest: 

In the East, fall is like a really long parade from north to south. In the West, it’s like fireworks: a spectacular burst of beautiful colors over a short time.

I don't remember the colors of past Falls here.  All I can conjure is images of crisp sunny days, dead leaves underfoot, and then the realization that the rainy season has begun, signaling winter.  Missing from these memories are the vibrant colors that I'm seeing this Autumn.

We are back from the East Coast.  Ten days in Pennsylvania, where it was not quite one season or another.  I packed shorts, but the nights were bitter cold.  The weather couldn't make up its mind. 

 
We returned to literally change right before our eyes.  Not only are the leaves falling during the shortened days, but life is so completely different than it was in September.  K has a job now and with it the confidence and stability that most jobs bring. 

It was an expected accomplishment, but something that took so long to happen. 

And then, just like that, boom.  Offer accepted, life is different. 

Its a good different.  With its own share of adjustments and rearranging.

We work opposite schedules right now. 

But, there's always someone home with the dogs. 

Its nice for each of us to have personal time. 

Extra money doesn't suck either. 

All the while, I am just taken back by how quickly time flies. Soon the holidays will be upon us. After that, a new year.  At times, we are frustrated with where we are in our lives, while other times we are overwhelmed with how much we have done. 

Maybe it all comes down to how much you stop to notice.  Did I have memories of past Fall colors?  Or did I just not take the time to look?  It is but a fleeting moment here, a sudden, intense burst of oranges and yellows.  If you don't purposefully seek it out, then there is nothing to hold onto.  Things change so quickly, and don't seem to change at all I guess, if you don't really sit down and look at it all. 

So, I am back to blogging.  Back to seeking out what I want in life.  Back to recording and creating adventures.  Back to pushing myself to do better.  I think I slacked over the last two months.  My Summer List was a decent attempt at reaching out and exploring the season and surroundings.  There was always a constant thought in the back of my head, "You have not yet jumped in a lake fully clothed."  There was ample opportunity, but overall a lackluster spirit to do so.  I think it was because there was always the backup thought of  "I will do that later." 

Well, there won't be a Fall list, and you'll have to wait for Spring.  But you better believe that there will be more of an effort this Fall to do more.  Feel more. 

Its only a short season here.  Soon, the cold rain will push the leaves off of their branches and clog drain pipes.  Yes, winter is a special time too, but nothing can compare to the bounty that this season brings.  It may not be like the Fall that we've known back East, but I've always liked fireworks better than parades anyways. 

Be Back Soon

We're back in PA for a couple of days. It's mainly because of a wedding but we're also intent on fitting some quality time with friends and family. I've forgotten how muggy the Fall is here and I've never had jet lag this bad before. But K is very happy and that makes me happy and so there.

Although I love Washington, I'm still nostalgic for the East Coast. This is where it all started for a lot of things: us, this blogging thing, careers, well most everything.

I'll be back soon. Going to take a couple weeks off from the blogosphere to relax, regroup, celebrate, and such.

I think I'll come back better.

La Push

There should be a disclaimer before I start writing this post. 

I in no way want you to think that I'm a Twilight fan.  I'm from here and I understand that the franchise has brought a lot of good to the area.  But, seriously, I'm 27 years old, am smart enough to know that you should never spend the rest of your life with your high school boyfriend, and think that Buffy is a way better vampire product.  That story has been told before, with more satire, better sex, and Seth Green. 


And really, before I go in deeper with why I think all of that hoopla is pretty awful and annoying, I'm going to continue with the post. 


I've wanted to go to La Push ever since we moved back.  It seemed like it was the penultimate Washington adventure.  The most beautiful pictures of Washington are taken at La Push.  It seemed romantic, dangerous, primitive, untouched, a place that is often talked about but rarely visited by Washingtonians. 

Its very far away, even for us on the other side of the water.  Still, despite our recent trek across the country, K and I felt the need for a long drive.  The day was beautiful.  Crystal clear skies.  Spectacular scattering of clouds here and there. Trees tall and proud, framing each side of the vehicle.  Glimpses of small town America as we passed quickly through the top west corner of the state.  Road trip snacks.  Catching up on lost conversations from the week due to a hectic work schedule.  Green signs counting down the miles until we reach the shore. 

Ten minutes away from our destination, the sky started to turn.  "We're getting close to the ocean," K observes.  I think, "Great, we drove all this way and I won't even get a decent picture."

It wasn't like it was in the pictures that I've seen. Very different, but still good. 

We went from sun on our arms with the sunroof down to pulling tight fleece jackets on.  The combination of wind, salt in the air, and loose sand made our hair coarse and our eyes squint. 

It was if we had stepped into a late Fall scene.  It was cold out, not a Winter chill though.  And yet, people still embraced the day as if they were trying adamantly to hold onto the last moment of Summer. 

Swimming and jumping over waves like it was a balmy 85 degrees.  I know they were looked as like they were crazy. 

I know that feeling though.  Its hard to shake.  To jump in, despite the elements, and feel the earth around you.  Its a connecting feeling. 

I held back because it felt good enough to wear a warm fleece for once.  We have glimpses of Fall back home, but the season has not fully arrived. 

I sat on a piece of driftwood, my love behind me, and stared at the ocean.  Its been so long since I've seen the Pacific, a wild and completely different beast than the shore we frequently vacationed on.  We're visiting the Atlantic in two weeks and I miss its warm, hazy horizon.  But this Pacific, anything can happen here.  The Washington coast may not be the place to get your tan on, but that's why I like it. 

I'll admit, I was slightly disappointed when we first arrived.  The orange, pink, and dark silhouettes from the pictures were no where to be seen.  Instead, found ghostly peaks and crashing waves.  Romantic in its own way.  


My state is of many sights.  I believe that it is the most unique place on this earth.  On our drive we drove through so many different settings.  And when we go back to La Push again, it will be different too.  Maybe more like what others have captured, maybe a little bit of this and that. 

This is part of what Washington has to offer.  Vampires not included. 

August in Pictures: An Instagram Post

Now, I don't necessarily buy that Summer is over.  Rather, its all in our heads.  I know that is based on the fact that I do not have to go back to school, nor do I have to send anyone back to school.  But, also consider that I worked all Summer, so its all relative to me. 


Looking back at August, I literally shook my head with the number of posts I produced.  A whopping three.  I blame it on trying to acquire a decent pay check.  Still, we did do a lot between the end of July to now. 



So, here's a recap. 

Whaling Days and the Navy band.  I'd marry all of them but I'm already married. 

 We went to the Oak table every other week.  There will be a post sometime this Fall, I promise. 

Dahlias.  That means our anniversary is right around the corner. 

 She may have a pillow fetish.

Deer Family at work

Spontaneous Lynnwood date dinner.

BTW, Alderwood has a Lego Store.  I've been gone awhile.

K's first Golden Gardens sunset.

Garden helper

The Fair.  I know. This actually happened.

The best glove bunny ever made.

Toasting an old friend.

You can follow me on Instagram @cshutty 



Dog Days

I've had a reoccurring thought all Summer.

It most often occurs early in the morning, when the dawn fog is just beginning to lift.


I put on my work clothes, tie my hair back, and stare longingly at the bed. 


"You little bastards have it good."


The dogs lift their heads slightly, floppy ears warm on my pillow.  Then close their eyes and forget about me for eight hours. 

While we had a good Summer, a solid Summer,  the dogs really made out.  They frolicked, slumbered, stole produce from the garden, frequented the dog park, made new friends, ate a ton but still stayed slim, and mainly did whatever they wanted. 

I mean really, they have nothing to complain about. It wasn't even that hot.

Yeah, I froze their toys in ice a la Summer List.  Threw some orange slices in there for show.  It kept them entertained for an hour, which is all we could ask for. 

Many sticks, pine cones, and (I'm mortified to report) slugs perished this Summer. 




New packs were formed. 

And there was even time for a Summer fling.

Yes, it was a run around and get dirty, suck the nectar out of life, chew on slugs kind of Summer.

Still, I fear Fall.  Its only going to get colder and the mornings will be even more taunting. 

Whatever

I have nothing to write, except that's not true at all.  There are at least four post in the back of my head, which seem to be less significant as the weeks go on.  Instead, I'm huddled in bed, scrunched up Kleenex surrounding me, medicine cups sticky with strangely colored liquids, an old tennis sweatshirt with stretched sleeves on, watching horribly good pilots from the 90s on the laptop, needing to put in earplugs because I can't hear from the computer speakers, exhausted, pumping fluids into my body, and hoping that I'll have a few hours of energy during my days off. 

The last two days have been the kind of days that seep into your bones.  You don't realize how hard they are until you come to the end of the day and feel that achiness.  You pushed through, you were tough, but the hard-ache still resonates.   Work has been tough, and it seems like death is following me inside and out of it.  So, I made a decision to ask for help yesterday on my commute home.  Find a replacement for tomorrow, if you can.  They could, and it was a good thing too because my immune system was under attack and I didn't even know it yet. 

Maybe my body is letting down its guard because it knows that I need to rest.  And nothing is better for it than three doses of Airborne and Crystal light in a large Smart Water bottle, hot hot hot baths, dinosaur chicken nuggets, and a stack of magazines that makes the girl at Safeway say, "Gee, that added up fast." 

I have three days off and I might spend 2.5 of them in bed, covered in feathers from a down comforter that has a hole chewed in one of its corner. 

It's okay though, I stapled it shut.  That's all I have energy to do right now. 


I might write more tomorrow.  Doubt it though.  If I do, then we can all be surprised.  

That picture has nothing to do with this.  But, you're welcome. 

In Praise of Kelle Hampton

There are few things that I believe in anymore.  That may sound cynical and rough.  It's not really like that.  Rather, there a sacred few things that I whole heartily, fully and completely raise my hand and swear on.  I believe that everyone should chronicle their life.  So that you are remembered by those who love you, those who may stumble upon your story someday, and most of all, yourself.  I believe in the power of Labrador retrievers, because they are the epitome of love wrapped up in a not too furry, not too coarse package.  I believe in working as hard as you can, making the sacrifices, and owning every decision you make.  I believe in loving yourself and striving for improvement without putting yourself down.  I believe that love changes everything that we do.  And I believe that we have to focus on the details in life, because they're better than anything else. 


A few years ago, I joined my mom and her friends for a ridiculously early breakfast, which always turns into a three hour morning of catch up.  They asked me, around four cups of coffee in, who do you consider your hero?  Children look up to sports figures,  we often look up to friends and family members in our lifetime, but who do you consider a role model in your life? 

Several months before that, I haphazardly typed words into a template, hoping to find my niche.  Trying to express how I feel while motivate myself to find something better in the day-to-day.  I stumbled upon a link that someone tried to sell as a religious or political message.  It wasn't that.  It was a link to all of those things I just talked about, with exception to the Labrador part.  It was a link to a lesson about life.  


I didn't know the outcome.  I knew as soon as I saw her too.  I didn't know anything about the author or her family.  Nothing about her story or anything that had happened prior to this post. 

And yet.  I think she made us feel that way.  I remember Sweet Disposition was playing in the background as I read, because playlist.com use to be really easy to use back then.  It was all so refreshing, even though it was laced with heartbreak and tears.  It was refreshing because it was honest.  And that's what I liked best. 


Fast forward to April, when this online world of the color yellow, scrunchy baby leg warmers, a good cup of coffee in the perfect mug, spontaneous ocean excursions, Fall freak flags, celebrations as small as a certain magazine coming in the mail to full circle in a delivery room, sunset silhouettes, chickens and cats on streets, picnics in Central Park with maryjane clad babies, Ingrid Michaelson lip syncing, fairy parties, $100,000 raised, $200,000 raised, duel blogging in Montana (this was my hands down favorite) all came into print, I just knew, I just knew it had to be shouted from the rooftops. 

So, I rearranged the front table at B&N every chance I could get.  Bought a special copy for the girl who was my "net" this last year.  Shared on instagram, on twitter, on facebook.


And threw a Bloom party. 

A simple party of eight.  An afternoon of food, laughter, tears, stories, and enjoying the small things.

Ok, let me get the food part out of the way, because I rocked that.  Then, I'll get back to the point. 

If you have not had the combination of watermelon, grilled shrimp, prosciutto, grapefruit juice, red onion, and feta, you need to make that happen. 

A half an hour before the guests arrived, I hurriedly scribbled discussion questions down on yellow paper.  We passed a vase around the table and shared.  Everyone picked the question that seemed to be meant for them, I'm not sure how, but it happened that way. 

And of course, there were bucket lists. 



Can you tell that's mine?

One shared her bucket list, filled with adventures that many of us were too scared to even think of.  She spoke of the daughter she lost, who was never afraid of anything, who's hair had been every shade of the rainbow, who brought so much laughter and greatness into this world.  On her bucket list, skydiving was absent because she did that last week.  Her daughter, who was never afraid of anything, was a constant reminder to live larger, live louder, and to not be afraid of jumping. 

Another shared that her granddaughter was her inspiration.  And that she would like to meet Hugh Jackman someday.  That was followed with a collaborative amen. 

Some spoke of heartache, of losing family from illness or anger.  How they have moved on in their life, making sure not to repeat the same behaviors, and to use it as a reminder to practice love.  One mentioned how a divorce was devastating, but out of those ashes rose a new love, a new family, a new lease on life. 

Others, started and stopped when tears filled their eyes.  Tears of happiness, tears of loss, tears for the grateful moments that they couldn't express.  We all understood.  We all had a moment like that. 

Together, several shared the story of one who could not attend the party due to prior obligations.  But, this book really meant the world to her. Twenty five years ago, she had a baby prematurely after a horrible birthing experience.  They didn't know if he was going to make it, or if he was going to be healthy.  The cord wrapped around his neck three times, the doctors were sure he was going to be brain dead.  She had a 18 month at home, a husband at a brand new job, and a newborn with third degree burns around his neck from that tight cord, so deep he still has scars.  He is healthy.  He is perfect.  He is thriving.  But the experience of that birth, of those six months in the NICU, of having to hire a nanny because you were on bedrest an hour away because you started contractions at 20 weeks, so severe that a nurse put a fist inside of you to stop the baby from coming as fast as he did, all of that was still so fresh. 

She said this book was cathartic for her. 

That after 25 years, it gave her closure. 

That Nella's story, was Josh's story. 

Kelle's story was her own. 

As if she was meant to read this book. 

It healed her. 

I threw a Bloom party because I sobbed reading this book.  I threw a Bloom party because each new post is like that little piece of dark chocolate you're suppose to treat yourself to each day.  I threw a Bloom party because I was this depressed twenty something, searching for a better life, eager to learn how to connect with this world and make something of my soul. 

I threw a Bloom party because we have this one, wild and precious life. 

If you google Kelle Hampton, it takes you to her site.  And it takes you to negative blogs written by people who seem to need to write about why they wouldn't be her friend, or how her life is fabricated, or just plain annoying.  They pop up because her fans have defended her.  I was going to title this "In defense of Kelle Hampton", but that's fuelling the fire.  We shouldn't give light to that negativity.  We shouldn't acknowledge that kind of behavior, because that's not what we're about. 

Maybe they just don't understand it all.  Or maybe they don't need her inspiration yet. 

I threw a Bloom party because this life is not about religion, politics, mudslinging, gossiping, climbing the ladder, out-earning, winning, crossing things off lists, or the next best thing.  It is about the here and now.  It is about being your best self.  It is about inspiring others to be their best self.  How can I change your life and how can you change mine?  What can I help you with and how can you be there for me?  This life is about sharing our stories, focusing on the beauty around us, learning from the lessons that we will face, loving yourself and those you get to meet.  It is about turning a disappointment into a challenge, and from a challenge into a blessing. 

There are few things that I believe in. 

Kelle Hampton is one of them. 

The Busy Life

I'm meaning to write more. I really am. The last two days I visioned sitting at the desk, hot tea in hand, legs folded on a black chair covered in dog hair, while I wrote about how I feel, how I act, how I dream, what I want in life.

But tonight, I'm sitting in a torn booth at our favorite bar, pink tennis shoes on, hair in a pony tail, eating perfectly fried chips with green salsa, sharing a pitcher of beer with K.

The bikers are going to have a surprise birthday party tonight. Tomorrow, we're going to a friends lake house, and Sunday is the bloom party.


I've been meaning to write more. But life is too busy to leave for a bit. So a quick update in a bar on the blogger app will have to do for now. I won't make promises of when I'll check in next. It's the cusp of Summer and it's just too good to quit right now.

Happy Summer.