Blue Folder

I have to confess something: I'm hiding out.  I'm avoiding packing tonight.  I'm pretending to do work in the basement while K is upstairs sorting, boxing, cleaning, working very hard I can imagine. I however, am totally acting like I'm doing all of that, occasionally calling up for more garbage bags. 

Its just really cold outside, and the dogs are asleep at my feet, and the blankets are just right, and there's so much good stuff on TV tonight.  And, I worked really hard this weekend and I'm pretty tired and I'll be doing all that packing stuff all day tomorrow and all week. 

Ok?
 


We are a week away from hitting the road.  The boxes are piling up and there are more empty spaces than occupied spaces as of now.  That's progress. That's exciting.  I know that we are at the beginning of two weeks of exhaustion.  Its expected with all big events.  We are starting to talk about what all this will feel like and what we're going to experience.  Its a heavy time.  It's an exciting time, but its heavy.  I'm surprised with how easily things find themselves in boxes.  How all my cookbooks fit into one box, how all the board games fit like a puzzle, how we know what we will need to take with us. 


A couple of weeks ago, we packed up K's old room, and found a blue folder.  I've seen this folder before, infact K brought it out the first night that I visited Harrisburg.  The folder is the sole result of a 12th grade boy who decided it would be a good idea to print off every email that he exchanged with me, despite whatever might happen to us in the future. 

Its such a juxtaposition to sit on a bed with boxes, reading old emails that you wrote to someone you thought you loved.  And to realize that, yes you did love him afterall. I wasn't just reading lovenotes though, I was reading the history of my teenage years.  The emails contained events that friends and I experienced, family tragedies like when my grandma died, and what I wanted my future to be like.

I wrote about that I was thinking about becoming a nurse.  And, here I am a nurse. 

I wrote, "I know you're going to become a priest, but Liza and Nettie think I'm going to marry you."  And, I did. 


We reconnected several years after those were composed and started the next round of emails.  These ones talked about seeing each other everyday, what it would be like to get pizza together on the East Coast, and sleep in on the West. 

We're doing those things too. 


Opening that blue folder, and reading those emails was eye-opening.  It showed me how fast life goes by.  How much things can change, and yet, how so many things about you stay exactly the same.  It made me realize how much we've accomplished. 

(And, oh, also how well I wrote at that age.  Correct grammar and spelling.  So different than how teenagers write. )


We're moving, but more than that, I'm returning home victorious.  I moved away from everything that I knew because I was very sure in my heart that K and I had something real.  We weren't engaged, we weren't sure that we would make it, we were awful at fighting, and there were so many uncertains.  But, part of me knew that this was right, and I knew enough about myself back then to listen. 

It does help to have the reminder in writing. 

Catching Up

It's official.  We're moving. 

The date is set, the POD is ordered, the movers will be here next Saturday, and our very own handy-man is flying in on the 15th. 

We're going to drive after all.  With the dogs.  It should be for some good blogging, which I will try to keep up with in the hotels at night.  Oh, I love hotels, even if there will be 3 dogs there. 


Our house is a maze of U-haul boxes; towers of cardboard of belongings which we will forget about in a couple of months.  It will be like Christmas, I guess, opening them up when we finally have settled.  The walls are bare, because that seems to make it feel like we're farther along than we really are. 

There are a lot of emotions with moving away.  I'll get to those in another post though. 

Lately, we've been silently saying good-bye to the places that we will surely miss, while putting off doing the same with the people that we will miss more.  One place that I will miss is the little safe haven that I discovered-- Little Buffalo State Park.

It's a little park, in comparison to other parks that I've hiked.  Still, the chunk of land that we venture every time we go there is enough.  This was Maggie's first time there, and I had wished that it was the snowy wonderland that it was the past winters that we visited.  But, the weather has been mild, which is good for moving. 

Still, she made due.

As my loyal readers may recall, our oldest pup is not a water dog.  She hates it.   This new puppy however, does not seem to hate anything in life.  She jumped right in to the lake, despite what I can imagine is its horribly frigid temperature.

We ran around the park, stepped on crackly leaves, leaped over bubbling brooks, and soaked up the last minutes.  

Then the dogs ran like crazy, tied my left ankle up with their yellow rope, and gave me the worse rope burn in existence. 


Do you want to see it?




No, I won't put that on here.


I guess the moral of the story is, we won't be going back to Little Buffalo, not because we're moving, but because I'll always remember that rope burn.  Because, I'm sure it will be with me for a very long time. 


Sometimes, it's easier to say good-bye than you think it will be. 

Itch

It's that premature time of the year again.

When that part of my soul starts to yearn for hands in warm dirt and a day filled kneeling in a garden.  It's only February and I'm pretty positive that mother-f'in groundhog saw his shadow today.  But, I don't buy it because I feel like Spring is going to come early this year. 

The ground is half frozen still and I can't plant anything because we won't be here when Spring officially arrives. 

I will be gardening in a completely different environment this year.  I'm not sure what will grow.  I'm not sure what will visit my garden or what elements will put it on the brink of disaster.  I'm not entirely certain that I will even have sufficient sunlight to grow a tomato.  Still, I feel that desire once again.  Which makes me itchy, but also makes me happy and confident that I have found something, at 26, that I will enjoy doing for the rest of my life.

Last year's garden (not pictured above), was neglected.  It represented a bunch of seeds that were very carefully watched in March and then were on their own come the end of April.  I had good intentions, but my schedule had me in its grasps.  Last year, I signed on with digthischick's Virgin Harvest, but had nothing to show. 

Actually reading what each veggie needs rather than just sticking a seed into the ground and praying. 

Sow consistently throughout the year, so I can have my favorites last longer.

Grow out of the box. I don't want neatly organized rows of carrots and corn, I want a garden that evolves and gets a little out of control. 

Making sure that the neighbor groundhog does not get a single heirloom tomato.

Growing so much that I beg friends and family to take produce from me.


Those were my goals.


 I did the first one, did not do the second, did the third one in a totally different way, did the fourth because nothing really grew, and accomplished the 5th by just handing our neighbor a basket of leftover herbs and beets when they said they would collect our mail while we were on our honeymoon.  You can view that as mostly successful in a totally unsuccessful way.

That's life, and I think that gardening is an excellent metaphor for life. 


Last year's garden represented last year's happenings.  Intended to be organized, but wildly unexpected in its harvest.  A mixture of things that are good for you, tangled with weeds, and the occasional flower for color.   I intended for the last year to be what I scheduled it to be, but when you are planning on a wedding, things pop up that you weren't prepared for.  Still, its all part of the plan and I'd rather life be a little bit messy than in even rows, easy to grab. 

Its nice to get married, but its nicer to have it all over with.  Sure, things have changed.  The biggest change is that now, we get to just live.


This year's garden will have a plan, but it won't have a blueprint.  Because, I don't know what it will all look like yet.  I know that this year's garden will have some showstoppers and will have a complexity of colors, textures, and fragrances.  Maybe I won't produce a tomato, but I'm sure I will find what to sow there too. 

Part of last year's goal was to try and grow a watermelon.  It requires very consistent, warm weather to grow.  Its complicated and daunting once you read the seed packet.  Of course, I couldn't devote my time to that.  Its very apparent that watermelon growing may never be in my future.  That's okay.  We're moving on and making new goals. 

I won't give up on the tomatoes though. 

For The Love of Pie

So, a lot of you may be getting this about me by now, but I love Tom Douglas food.  Or, I should say "we" love Tom Douglas food since I'm married now.  But, in reality, its "we all" love Tom Douglas food because we have since converted a many of followers since our wedding. 

But, I digress. 

They're going to feature stories about their Coconut Cream Pie in their Fall 2012 cookbook, so I gave my two cents tonight. 

Here's what I wrote (pictures are a http://www.imwashington.com/ exclusive, but mainly because there was no way to post pictures on the submission):

We like to tell people that Tom Douglas cuisine is very important to our relationship.  It’s often found at the center of special occasions, like our first date in the city, to a warm June afternoon when we started planning our wedding.   Kevin and I had appointments to meet with vendors, but scheduled lunch for ourselves first.  Maybe it was to do some last minute day dreaming, but it was most likely to stand in Dahlia’s bakery and breathe in the deliciousness that hangs in the air.  And, it was definitely to have an opportunity to try the Coconut Cream Pie in mini form.  We had shared a slice, sprinkled with pomegranate seeds, together that New Year’s Eve, and now we were sitting in front of the bakery, lunch in cardboard boxes with checkered linings, eager to finish our sandwiches so we could have dessert.   The sun was shining, we were laughing, giddy off of our engagement and the possibilities of the future,  trying to decide who had the better lunch and if we should come back after our appointments to get more mini pies to take back home. 

 

But, I was mostly thinking about the way that time flies and how things always work out.  Here, we sat in front of the bakery, and it was just a few years ago that I sat inside Dahlia’s restaurant with my mom and grandma.  “I have found someone new,” I told them, “his name is Kevin.”  How they flew their hands up in the air with excitement, how we had tried the pie for the first time that day, and how perfectly things were starting to come together, I couldn’t get those images out of my mind.  So, while we ate our sandwiches and mini coconut pies that day, I often found myself looking over my shoulder, to the patrons inside the restaurant, and smiled.    

 

Later that afternoon, disappointed with the reception sites that we had viewed, we walked by Palace Ballroom.  We peered in the front windows, and then looked at each other.   The next year, we were surrounded by friends and family, as we entered that room introduced as husband and wife. 

 

And, sure, we had wedding cake.  But what everyone remembers most are those coconut cream bites that accompanied the cake.  They were little reminders of how far we had come. 

Thanks K and Nets for the heads up on this opportunity. 

Cough

That's what we've been doing a lot of this week.  After the stress that the funeral brought upon us, I had a premonition that we would spend the next week sick.  Unfortunately, I was right. 

So cough.

There's been a lot of this:



This:



and this:

All week we've been taking turns taking care of each other.  I'll feel better and I'll take care of him, then the next day I'll regress because I didn't take care of myself, so he'll step in.

We crave heat, steam, and hot liquids. 

So, wouldn't you know, it went ahead and snowed?

A cold, overnight, and conflicting message from Mother Nature: stay inside and hibernate but after you chase snow-loving puppies inside. 

More coughing. 


I'd like to get on with my life. 




We're delayed a little bit with our move.  The funeral plus this week of coughing is a bit of a set-back.  So, rather than Feb 1st, we're looking at Feb 18th.  I'm disappointed that I will have to post-pone a fabulous Love Day Party that I had planned for my family and friends.  I'm also bummed that I will have to watch my favorite zombie show all by myself with all of the blinds down, clutching pillows, reasoning with dogs to hold it until the morning.  I'd like us to be there right now, but papers need to be filed and loose ends have to be tied.

That's all contingent upon if we ever get our full lung capacity back though. 

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take a hit of Nyquil. 

Closure

A part of me is screaming “Go to bed, it doesn’t matter that its 930”, while another is whispering “Write, write, write.”  This was one of those weekends in which a chapter is closed right in front of you and you find yourself at the edge of opportunity.  One of those weekends when you are very much aware of where you are in the present and what you are going to do in the future.   I was able to stand back from myself and realize my role as wife and daughter, and at the same time see where we are going as a family. 

K’s grandma passed away on Tuesday, which began a week of grieving, preparing, and mostly not sleeping.  We knew that it was coming, but it was still difficult, as it should be.  So, as we started to say good-bye, I started to shift into my responsibility.  Caregiver, go-to-girl, shoulder to cry-on, whatever you want to call it, I wanted to be it.  I wanted to be like Robin on HIMYM and pull a phone charger and bottle of whiskey out of my purse at a funeral because someone needed it.  My relationship with her wasn’t like their relationship with her, so I am available. 

And, so it was a tiresome week and whirlwind weekend, I am tired and am writing sentence fragment after sentence fragment. 

Still, “write, write, write.” 

I would like to write that I am very proud of my husband. 

And that I am proud to be part of his family.

I’d also like to write that marriage does change it all.  You can’t describe it and most days it doesn’t feel different.  But then you have a week like we just had and it all makes sense.  As a girlfriend or a fiancée, its just not the same.  As a wife, its an intense mixture of responsibilities and commitment.  At the core of that mixture is this spiritual connection.  Yes, marriage makes it all different.  We may have the same surroundings, the same habits, the same hangouts and friends, but are wholly different in our souls. 

He sang and he spoke at the funeral.  A grandson saying good-bye to his grandmother, but a man standing before us.  He is different.  He is good.

I do not go to church often.  My faith has morphed throughout the year, from an active church going teenager to a burned out young adult.  I have gone from believing only one thing, to questioning everything, and am now centered in the belief that you have to live in kindness and truth to yourself.   And I also believe that death is a beautiful thing.  I won’t talk about my job often, but I will say that I believe that I am called to the bedside of the dying.  To hold their hand and given them permission to go, to explain to family what will happen next, and to stand behind that family onto the next phase in their lives.  As K says: there will come a time when you think you’re at the end and that is only the beginning.  So, as I watched tears flow this weekend and tried to wipe them with crumpled tissues, I knew that we were only getting started.  We mourn, we cry, but we come together and we move forward. 

A funeral marks the beginning.  A chance to let go of resentment and anger, and find closure.  While we miss the individual who has died, we have an opportunity to reflect on our own life and chose what we want from it.  I want my obituary to be half about my family and half about what I did with my life.  Not what I did during my day job, but that I liked to write late at night, roll my jeans up and walk on river rocks, and watch embers dance over moonlit fireplaces.  Death can be beautiful if we let it be.  If we give ourselves a chance to say good-bye, if we remember the gifts that that person gave to this world, and if we open our hearts to those around us, Death can be a blessing.

So the blessings that I received this weekend are many.  I realized the strength that we have in our relationship as newlyweds.  I felt the connection that I have with my husband.  I transitioned from daughter-in-law to daughter.  I reflected on the inner peace and spirituality that I have long worked on.  I swelled with pride as I witnessed the love and community around me. I was able to use my gifts to help others.  And I found closure in many good-byes. 

It is not a sad time.  It is a glorious time.  We have life in front of us, and it is Life that I am going to live. 

Best and Worst of 2011

I know. 

Talking about 2011 was so 2011 ago.  We're a week into the new year and its time to focus on what's ahead of us.  Ornaments are put away.  Lights are thrown into a box somewhere, tangled for you to deal with next year.  The holiday season is over.  Still, I thought it was cliche to write about the season last week, you know, when everyone was doing that. 

Our Christmas consisted of a large breakfast, followed by a nap on the couch with the dogs, and Christmas movies on the TV. 

Our New Years Eve consisted of a Disney movie with taquitos, followed by a kiss at midnight, and a phone call to the West Coast. 

Simple, subtle, so very easy holiday. 


Still, I feel its necessary to reflect on the last year.  Thus, I present my best and worst for the second year in a row. 



A lot has changed in a year.  That is a very obvious statement, but at the same time, a lot has stayed the same, or, swung back into place.

Last January, we spent the beginning of the year in Washington, trying to mend a terrible-horrible-no-good-very-bad-Christmas.  We got over it fast.  We ate a lot of Tom Douglas food. We started to form traditions with friends out there.   K experienced his first Washington snowmageddon--all 3inches of it, and Tommy did a face plant trying to push my mom's car up a hill. 

I wrote the most popular post on my old blog.   Not because it was exceptional or because of the content.  I liked the post, actually.  But, it gets the most hits because it has "big ass" in the title.  On a side note, hello to all of my Sir Mix A-Lot followers. 

 I accomplished my biggest dream in February.   It was a sunny February.  It was a snowy February.  It was a loverly February.  I started dreaming about the future and who I would become in my career.  I started looking forward to the Spring while happily romping in the snow. 

And, I started to get frustrated because I couldn't find a goddamn job to save my life.  Still, I hushed myself, knowing that I needed to suck that marrow out of life kind of stuff while I had time. 

Then I started to get really anxious in March.  Nothing could grow yet, nothing was thawing fast enough.  I didn't want to suck marrow anymore, I just wanted to make some money. 

I found out a little more about myself. 

Celebrated the past and the future all in one day. 

Started planting. 

Grew some cool ish.

And, then got a job. 

In April, I worked.  That's all I remember. 

And, that they put me up in a hotel for a couple of days to get me trained.  And, that was pretty cool. 

I started to feel at ease.  I was able to fill my days with production and spend my evenings in the cool Spring air with my toes in the grass. 

In May, I worked and that's all I remember.  I worked a lot and I wasn't balancing everything so well. 

That's life and that's a life lesson.  Your work can't be your life and your life can't creep into your work. 

 But, really, it wasn't about the work.  I wasn't balancing in life, period.  It took two friends coming across the country to snap me back into focus. 

Focus on the good you do in the world. 

Focus on the good around you.

Focus on the great things to come. 

Focus on things like fireflies and Summer storms. And all of those fantastic things about that time of the year. 


In June, I started to focus on living in this new part of my life. 

And that's what we did for the rest of the Summer.  It went fast and it went down so smooth. 

We went to Washington one last time before October.  We had an amazing shower and saw a glimpse of the love that we would receive in a couple of months. 

We had backyard fires in both states, laughed and cried over the joys of our life, and started feeling pretty giddy inside. 

And, then, just like that, it happened. 

I said good-bye to my single life in high style, hauled my dress on several airplanes, and married my best friend.  Okay, I vowed not to say that, but that's what I did. 


It was pretty fantastic. 


I put my blog on vacation for a bit, then came back and caught up. 

And, as predicted, I came back a little bit different. 

Ready for some change. 

In the form of a dog.

In the form of major life changes.

In the form of a new blog.

We learned a lot from this year. Like how its important to let go of the things that are holding you back and the situations which make you less than you are.  We learned that there are bigger and better things waiting for us.  We learned to be grateful.  We learned to be humble.  And we learned that we can handle anything. 


That's the Best of 2011.

As far as the Worst?

Well, I don't really care about it anymore.