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.

Heritage Part Two, or I love my Aunts

I was going to stop right there, but I got the new Robin Thicke album and he is so silky smooth.  And, its the deluxe album because it was only two bucks more.  As a footnote, blogger freezes all the time as it auto saves, so as I typed that first line it read, "I got the new Robin Thicke bum and he is so silky smooth." 


My experience with packing is far different from K and his mom.  While they are packing everything that that they would need to survive and thrive in Washington, I am ready to take a backpack and two dogs.  The dogs are lucky that they calmed down and stopped freaking out on each other as I typed that too, because earlier in the night the backpack was looking good by itself.  They (meaning K and his mom), have moved many, many times and have thus developed a defense mechanism in a way.  Pack more, hold onto what you can, and bring items that will remind you of what you had.  Plus, they have nice shit.  So, I don't blame them. 

Ok, that dog and backpack comment is unrealistic because I just remembered that I have a car and a TV.  And nursing books that I should probably reference someday.  And clothes from NY and co which I have to make last forever because they don't have those in Washington. 



My heritage hails from Washington though, so I know I can find what I need when I get there. 

and

My heritage is kind of all over the place right now.  Parts of me are in Colorado, Nebraska, Oregon, Texas, and Australia.  People I love and who have formed me into this person are all over the world.  They are reachable by phone and social media.  I'm use to them being away.  I'm use to not having something visible in front of me that I need to pack.  Someone else is holding onto those things in those places.


Maybe that's my own defense mechanism. 



I'm use to them being far away and have adapted to that.  While K and his mom had family within a 3 hour drive and spent holidays with family members circulating from one house to the next, we had family that you could count on one hand. 

This October, we had family members circulating through our house.  And it was fabulous.  My history was not just found in boxes and pictures, but was living, breathing, and hugging right in front of me.  Godparents were present to tell college stories about my parents.  Cousins were together, realizing that as a group, yeah we look like we belong to one another. 


My favorite moment was when my Aunt told me that it was nice to be able to be an Aunt that week.  And, then, bam, defense mechanism realized.  I hail from a small family, but wholly I am much, much more.  Wholly, I need these people, just as K needs what he needs. 


This post does have a point.  And, I'm getting to it. 


Wait. For. It. 


I'm trying to think. 


OK, I got it:

This came in the mail over the Summer.  From my Aunts.  I saw them four years ago during the move to PA.  We reconnected at the wedding.  In the meantime, they started putting my story together.  The story of our family and where we hail from.  This is from either my grandma's or great grandma's quilt.  Each of the five cousins will receive one when they get married.  I'm the first and I am incredibly proud.  I am connected.

(I love my Aunts.) 


I guess my point is, you take your heritage with you.  However much you want to bring along, whatever parts of it, whatever it looks like, its up to you to bring it along.  It is found in pictures, newspaper articles, letters from wars, handkerchiefs, quilt squares, and cities.  But, it is also in the way that you say your prayers, bake your bread, drink your beer, tell your stories, spend your weekends, and make your choices. 

Sometimes, you find it when your family opens up an old shoe box or sends you a piece of history in the mail.

Sometimes, its when you try something new and decide its good enough to make a tradition. 

And, sometimes, you find your heritage, and yourself, when you do something very daring and leave all that you knew behind. 



 At least, that's what happened to me.

Heritage

We are in the midst of packing boxes and sorting things into piles of keep, throw, donate, and why did I ever buy this.  We are opening closets, finding mostly dust and dryer sheets stuck to mismatched socks, but also the occasional glimpse into history.  Newspaper clippings, cherished letters and cards, and pictures of people who I will never get to meet but I know they are important anyway.  Tonight, I sat on the floor and stuffed bags for Goodwill, and memorized the names of the siblings of K's grandma tonight.  There were 13 of them and now there are two.  From those 13, well, there's a whole lot and trust me, after putting together addresses for our wedding, I know most of them now. 

It's important to know who's who and who belonged to who.  Not just because I want to send Christmas cards to the right person next year, but because it's his family and now I'm his family.  And he's mine, so in turn, they're mine as well.  There comes a sense of responsibility when you get married.  I guess that's one of the biggest things to experience.  A responsibility to be present, to be aware, and to be grateful for the history and the culture of your love's family. 

At the same time, K hails from a large family but was raised by a single mom away from that family.  His mom grew up around a lot of people and he had that experience only on visits.  It was, for the most part, just them.  And, that is part of his history too.  So, as I sat on the floor tonight packing why did I ever buy this clothing into donation bags, they started to compile what they needed for the next phase in their life.  Away from Pennsylvania, and onward to Seattle. 

In between packing, we start to say good-bye.  A good-bye that is difficult for myself as well.   We started our relationship a long time ago, but we formed it in PA.  Several parts of PA, parts that we won't be able to reach out and grab once we move.  These parts will always be important to us and crucial to who we are as a couple.  We'll find new parts in Washington, but little bits of our heart will always remain behind in PA. 

This week, we travelled to Pittsburgh for an overnight stay.  It was mostly to watch hockey, which we did very well, but quietly it was to say good-bye to the place that K considers his hometown.  This city is the core of his soul.  The people, the culture, the sports, the taste, the style, the air of the city is what he is all about.  I love Pittsburgh because I love my husband. 

So, we drove around to all of our old stops.  We whispered our farewells in our heads and decided not to look in the rearview window because it would sting.  He showed me a couple of new places, kind of the last hoorah as tour guide for the time being. 

When I moved here, I was heartbroken and desperate for a glimpse of home.  I started blogging because I wanted to push myself to find Seattle wherever I was.  Once we move,  we will start to look for slices of K and his heritage in my fine city.  We will search for the loudest Steeler bar (readers, they are everywhere), scout Polish shops for purple hued horseradish, ask deli butchers if they have kishka, put welcome candles on our windowsills, and travel to Vancouver anytime the Pens play the Canucks.  We will wear the same tshirt every Sunday during football season and we will always have one foot in the great Commonwealth somehow.  We will find Pittsburgh in Seattle and wherever we go. 

Same Old

Its good to be back, and I mean that in the way that I am talking to myself.

As in, "hello Old Me.  I'm not going to question where you've been, its just nice to have you here." 

and

"Why thank you, its definitely good to be back."




Its been a busy year.  And, that is an understatement.  Its been a busy year of planning, adjusting, surviving, thriving, and mostly going through the motion.   Last week I finished my notice at work and I counted down the seconds until I could regroup and recharge.  I did this before I moved to Pennsylvania. I moved back home for a couple of weeks, spent my days cooking and walking barefoot on cool grass, preparing myself for the next chapter in my life.  It was a bittersweet experience, as this will be, I suspect.

Too often, our life experience and changes catapult from one to another.  We jump from let down to let down, or high to high, and don't really take a breath and take in what just happened.  Maybe we're anxious to get to the "what's next?".  Maybe we're afraid of what will happen if we slow down.  I knew that I needed these next couple of weeks so that I'm in the right place when we move.  No agenda, no plan, no blueprint.


Instead, crafting.

 
And stuffing boxes for people I love, then reopening the boxes because I forgot something. 


Instead, backyard lights.

They're a whole two years old and they're definitely showing their age.  But, I kinda like them better like this. 


Instead, backyard fires.  Something I thought I had already said good-bye to in PA.  Mild weather is hanging around a little bit longer, despite our unexpected surprise in October.  

Instead, long walks with Lilly.  Just like we use to do. 

Instead, late night writing, because that's when the getting got good.  That's when my synapses fired their best.  There's something about the dark sky, a hard rain, and a puppy under the blankets next to me that sparks the best writing.  And, although I know that I'm not at my prime right now, this is all still good because it represents. 

It's all good, because I feel like myself again.  The last year was the best, and the wedding was amazing, but its nice to get in the groove again and to just be.  And to record that being. 



We're in a major transition period right now, but I feel calm.  I feel present.  I feel prepared and I feel sure.  I feel like right now we should be marking boxes, but we should also be sitting in the backyard, drinking scotch and smoking cigars.  We should be sitting around the fire, laughing, telling stories from our day, as a light rain hits our sweatshirt hoods. 

Because, that's going to be part of our life out there too, so why wait?