loose leaf and pinot noir

Bébé bites

2011-04-19T11:04:00.000-07:00

We've been babyfood making central here these past few days. The wee one has finally decided to branch out from breastmilk and it's been fun seeing her experience new tastes and textures. Breakfast is usually a fruit, lunch is a fruit/veggie mix and dinner is a fruit/veggie mix with chopped up bits of whatever protein I'm eating (and sometimes chopped up bits of whatever veggies I'm eating as well). I thought I'd take a few minutes to write out a few of the combos we've tried for some of you ladies with little ones.

Harvest veggie mix
Butternut Squash
Apples
Carrots
Prunes

Peel and core apples. Chop equal amounts of the squash, apples and carrots into small cubes. Chop 3 or 4 prunes. Combine all of the fruits and veggies and steam. Blend, using small amounts of the liquid leftover from steaming to achieve the desired consistency. Cool and either refrigerate or freeze in ice cube trays for future use.

Go Green!
Broccoli
Peas
Pears

Combine equal amounts of broccoli, peas and peeled/cored/chopped pears (or adjust the ratios to fit your baby's palate). Steam and blend, using small amounts of cooking liquid to achieve the desired consistency. Cool and either refrigerate or freeze in ice cube trays for future use.

Rosemary Applesauce
4 Apples
2 sprigs of fresh rosemary

(I'm still working on the best way to do this recipe but this is what I did today and it worked quite well)
Preheat oven to 350.
Peel and core apples. I chopped them into quarters because it was the easiest way to core them. Place two apples on a large piece of tin foil with a sprig of rosemary, fold the foil over and crimp the edges so the apples are sealed inside the foil packet (repeat with the other two apples and rosemary). Place the two packets on a cookie sheet and bake for about 45 minutes. Remove the rosemary and blend, using small amounts of water to achieve a good consistency.
I think I could have done this just as easily by steaming them but this worked really well and tasted so good that I was stealing bites from her :).

Cardamom scented pears
4-5 pears
4-5 whole Cardamom pods

Peel and core pears and chop into small cubes. Place pears in steamer basket with the cardamom pods. Steam, remove pods and blend pears. You probably won't need to add any liquid to get them to the right consistency. I think I'll add some nutmeg to these the next time.

Baked nectarines
4 nectarines

Wash nectarines and slash an 'X' shape at the bottom of them with a knife. Wrap in foil and bake on 350 for an hour. Remove and allow to cool. The skin should remove easily and the flesh can be pulled right off the pit. Blend as is with no added liquid.

I'm sure we'll come up with more interesting stuff as she continues to grow and I hope to keep posting them here! Please chime in with your favorite combos and recipes!

On absence

2011-03-14T16:39:00.000-07:00

The wee one and I have been listening to Persuasion on iTunes audiobook this past week. It's been absolutely lovely too prepare dinner, play and eat to the delightful tones of Geraldine McEwan's velvety voice and a welcome change from the silence that's not otherwise occupied by babbling or my one-sided chatter.

I've watched the movie a million times in the past several years (sorry, haven't had much time to sit down and read for fun) but the following quote never quite stood out to me like it did this time around. Written so long ago, yet still poignant, beautiful and fitting today:

"Ah!" cried Captain Harville, in a tone of strong feeling, "if I could but make you comprehend what a man suffers when he takes a last look at his wife and children, and watches the boat that he has sent them off in, as long as it is in sight, and then turns away and says, 'God knows whether we ever meet again!' And then, if I could convey to you the glow of his soul when he does see them again; when, coming back after a twelvemonth's absence, perhaps, and obliged to put into another port, he calculates how soon it be possible to get them there, pretending to deceive himself, and saying, 'They cannot be here till such a day,' but all the while hoping for them twelve hours sooner, and seeing them arrive at last, as if Heaven had given them wings, by many hours sooner still!"

A few loose thoughts from today

2011-02-22T14:03:00.000-08:00

My child will be 9 months old this week. Where exactly has time gone?? I swear pregnancy was longer than this has been...seriously..
My child is sporting 2 1/2 teeth with 3 more about to make their appearance. This particular bullet point is why I really can't wait till she's 3 sometimes.
I finally resurrected my iPod after not touching it for over a year and a half and spent over 2 hours trying to get it updated and attempting to get the Nike+ feature to work. I gave up halfway through and just did my run before coming back to it. Of course it worked the second I got off the treadmill.
Couch to 5k is boring. Bah. However, I'd like to avoid injury so onward I plod. Can't wait to do a race again.
My treadmill is also boring so Spring, you can feel free to show up and actually stay anytime. No, really.
I need to do dishes. (I don't think any of you realize how big of an understatement this is...)
I need to finish folding laundry.
I need to pick up the baby toys that are all over the floor.
Playing with the baby is way more fun than any of the aforementioned three points.
Trying to decide when to book our hotel for R&R. I just know the minute I put a deposit on this resort, Jason's date will get changed. It's just how things work in the good ol' Army.
Can't WAIT for R&R: a week at the St. Regis in Park City Utah. Mountains, lakes, hikes, good restaurants, lounging by the pool with my favorite two people....yeah, it's going to be amazing. We need this.
Trying to decide if AAA or the military discount is going to save us more money....
Iraqi internet sucks, by the way
Keep thinking about this awful show I watched last night called Outrageous Kid Parties. The woman plunked down 32K for her 6 year old's birthday party. The only thing I've been able to think about all day is this: 32K could have helped one foreign orphan find their forever home and could have possibly helped two domestic orphans find theirs. I realize people are entitled to spend their money however they want, but my heart just broke knowing that money that could have literally saved a child's lifetime went to a spoiled brat who had no clue or appreciation for what was being spent on her. It's disgusting.
I'll step down from that soapbox before I get even more angry..
Looking forward to a quiet evening sewing, chatting with my 9 month old (it can't be possible...), drinking some sort of hot beverage and contemplating how many more dishes I can fit in the sink...just kidding, I'm going to wash them now...maybe...

The Manly Art of...

2011-02-21T12:16:00.000-08:00

So what do you do for the guy that has everything?

By the time Jason and I got married, he had firmly established himself in the ranks of bachelorhood and had amassed just about every gadget, electronic or otherwise, that existed (I'm fairly sure we own at least three X-boxes, correct me if I'm wrong Jason...). I knew I had to come up with something good for the first Christmas we were together so I pulled out my only big gun and did a painting of the Cadet Chapel at West Point which got me major points. It also left me kicking myself because I had no idea what I was going to do for the remaining 60+ years of birthdays and Christmases.

When it comes to gift giving, I hate just buying some random thing off the rack. I agonize over finding the perfect thing (or experience, as the case may be) and would rather find one small unique item than have 10 off the shelf things that he could walk into Best Buy and get himself.

Needless to say, it's always a pretty daunting task and I always try to be alert for clues he might give me for things he might enjoy (this is one of the many fun parts of marriage I think).

One of these mental notes was logged as we were trawling through some shops in the Ponte Di Rialto in Venice a couple of Christmases ago. I was testing out handcrafted perfumes bottled in stunning hand-blown Murano glass vessels when Jason noticed a display of shaving sets among the men's toiletries (I should note that I was the one who dragged him into the store in the first place...). There is something decidedly manly and old-school about a well crafted shaving set and the man-appeal is upped probably about 90% when a classic straight razor is involved. Men and dangerous objects. Sigh.

We left the Profumiere without buying one of the sets (I did score a bottle of that perfume but it met an untimely end in my bathroom just a few months later) but he brought them up occasionally in the months that followed. A couple of weeks ago, I was doing my daily (ok, several-times-daily) check of Etsy and discovered a complete gem of a shop called Orangefuzz: two artists making scrumptious health and beauty products. One of their featured items was a shaving kit complete with shaving soap, brush, aftershave and bar soap. As if it wasn't already cool enough, the shaving soap is made with beer (you can't smell it but apparently something in beer is good for the skin...and I mean, come on, how much manlier can you get than soap made from a good stout!) and it's all packaged in a vintage cigar box. WIN! Everything smells amazing and in the words of the Orangefuzz artists, "deliciously masculine".

The only thing missing was the razor. I knew I didn't want just any old razor so I started researching straight razors and happened upon a rather large and dedicated online community of classic shaving enthusiasts and historians. I had a specific razor in mind: a vintage US Army issued razor. As fortune would have it, my inquiry was met with several responses describing the history of such a find (the Army issue ones are apparently pretty rare and it's even more rare to find one in good enough shape to shave with or even get to shaving quality) and one collector had the one I was looking for: a J. R. Torrey blade in perfect condition that he was willing to sell for a decent price.

You're probably wondering why I'm posting all of this online if it's supposed to be a gift for Jason's birthday...

Unfortunately, it's impossible to keep secrets from him. I made the mistake of saying I had gotten him an awesome gift and after only describing it as "manly", he guessed on the first try. I can't keep a straight face...so he found out. So now he just needs to get himself home so I can give all this awesomeness to him and I suppose I'd better be armed with lots of bandaids and 911 on speed dial... ;)

Sweet Valentine (with recipes!)

2011-02-15T20:01:00.000-08:00

So what do a bunch of Army wives do on St. Valentine's day when their husbands are gone? Have a party!!
I have to say, I haven't had this much fun in a looong time. It took me a good hour to fall asleep because I was just so happy. I have met some amazing women here and am constantly impressed with how beautiful they are: physically, they're gorgeous, but more importantly, they have exquisite souls and spirits full of life and strength. I love being around them and I feel like I got to know them so much better Saturday night. Who knew all it would take was some chocolate and strawberry buttercream?

I suppose I kind of went overboard on the food, but planning really helped keep me sane during the last month of dreary cold winter and snowy days. I had hoped to have everything set up and perfect by the time the party started but the baby had other plans. In the end, it was more fun working with my friends to get it all set up than it would have been to be greeting everyone with a glass of wine in hand and my makeup perfect. Christa put together the mini-BLTs, Diane did my dishes, Wendy got the chocolate fountain going (that my wonderful neighbor let us borrow for the night). The spread was lovely and tasted just as good (even though I broke Ina Garten's cardinal rule of entertaining which is to never try out a new recipe on one's guests...several times..)

I promised to post the recipes so here they are:

Mini-BLTs with the most amazing sun-dried tomato mayo (a staple at Erin's parties and if you make them, you'll understand why)


Chicken meatballs served with Emeril's Roasted Red pepper sauce (found in the pasta sauce section of the grocery store). These were a new recipe and thankfully turned out amazing. I used bacon instead of Pancetta since it was cheaper...worked beautifully.


Vanilla cupcakes with fresh Strawberry Buttercream. The cupcakes are entirely gluten free and are from my favorite food blog, Tartelette. I could eat them unfrosted all day long...BUT...Erin's strawberry buttercream takes them to entirely new levels. I'm telling you, this frosting is out of this world. You'll eat it straight out of the bowl.


Homemade vanilla bean marshmallows. So simple and so tasty. Light, fluffy speckled pillows of scrumptiousness. Love.


Chocolate dessert cups filled with chocolate raspberry mousse. I originally made a mousse from scratch but it failed horribly. I ended up using a boxed mix that tasted just as good and piped beautifully. No real recipes here, just sinful chocolaty goodness.

Chocolate truffles, courtesy of Pioneer Woman. I spiked mine with Cognac and dusted them in cocoa powder that I picked up in a lovely little shop in Paris.

So even though we all would definitely have been happier spending this past weekend with our dear husbands, this was just what we needed. Or at least, it was just what I needed :).

(And the delightful Lisa Marie took a fabulous shot of one of my crowns so I could give you a preview of my shop!)

Scrumptious

2011-01-26T09:21:00.000-08:00

I've kind of been dying a little over John Galliano's latest collection for Dior. Feast your eyes, people:

Sigh.

I've been a closet follower of the Haute Couture world for years. I used to sit in my room watching the runway shows every season online and I could rattle off the main designers for any of the major fashion houses if asked (I have far more important things to remember these days but I do still think Karl needs to retire).

I grew up in some pretty conservative circles in which fashion was looked upon as vain and clothes were meant simply to cover (as much as possible) your body so any amount of fabric in any color and in any (horrendous) style would do. All of this in the name of God, of course. It was this mentality that had me watching Ralph Lauren's spring collection behind closed doors and peeking at the September Issue of Vogue behind the magazine racks when no one was looking. I spent years clad in culottes, mid-calf khaki skirts and shapeless shirts. I still remember going into Saks 5th Avenue in NYC on a high school trip wearing a khaki shirt and windbreaker (de rigeur for my alma mater at the time) and being shadowed by salespeople who clearly thought I was going to try to sneak something in my crocheted Wal-Mart shoulder bag. It was torture. Even though I was expected to conform to these legalistic views on clothes, I could no more scoff at McQueen or Galliano than I could Monet.

I no longer feel the guilt or pressure that I once did and I now feel sorry for those who insist on living in such a bleak world and not appreciating couture for what it is: Art. Beauty. Sculpture. (The list goes on). Nature is full of color, line, abstract forms and outrageous design, all formed by the hands of God himself. Man and Woman were his ultimate creations, his masterpieces, yet for some reason, a small clatch of people insist on covering these works of art in crap (I really did try to come up with a better word...sorry). One wouldn't put a Rembrandt in a burlap bag before putting it out on display so why would we cover the creation of The Artist in dowdy shapeless garments.

I'm not advocating nudity or frivolity at all, but I like to think of clothing as that "frame" so to speak. A way of enhancing the beautiful creation that we are.

One of my favorite sites is The Sartorialist. While I dearly love the artistry of the couture shows (the makeup! the shoes! the head-wear! the lighting design!), I am fascinated by the creativity displayed by the average people Schuman captures in his photographs: a bit of vintage lace here, a classic suit there, a jaunty hat on fresh, windswept hair. More than the clothes, I'm always captivated by the faces of his subjects. In a refreshing departure from most of the fashion world, Schuman finds real people with wrinkles and flaws yet enormous amounts of character (take this Milanese gentleman, for instance). The hat, the loosely tied scarf, the perfectly tailored coat and the wedding ring hanging onto aging fingers. I want to know his story.

All this being said, I don't claim to be any sort of fashionista myself. I try, but since my wardrobe currently revolves around my daughter's feeding needs, I tend to resort to some sort of loose or stretchy shirt and jeans. I adore trips to Anthropologie, Banana Republic and J Crew as much as the next girl though (despite almost never buying anything) and I'm probably going to set an alarm reminding me when the Burberry accessories boutique opens on Rue La La tomorrow. I would probably pee my pants if I ever got a shot at owning a Burberry trench (the construction...the fabric...gah!).

Does this make me vain? No! I love beauty and I love art and the few nicer labels I own are always worn with a very deep appreciation for the craftmanship that went into each piece. So on that note, go treat yourself to a copy of Vogue then sit back and watch the latest Dior runway show. It'll do you more sensory good than that Kinkade on your wall ;).

All Dior images taken from The Daily Mail

Milanese Gentleman from The Sartorialist

When the tough cookie crumbles (or something like that)

2011-01-25T21:21:00.000-08:00

People have described me as tough. Strong.

Perhaps I am. I do have a bit of an independent streak in me and I am pretty good at making it through trying circumstances without falling apart. I've always been this way (ask my poor gray-haired mother about that independent streak sometime) and in fact, there was a time that my parents thought I didn't know how to cry (ask my friends how much that's changed. ha).

Let me let you in on a little secret though: I'm a big weenie.

I cry at any commercial remotely referencing the military.
I sleep with a light on.
I cry when other people's husband's come home.
I've eaten 3 bags of hershey kisses in the past week (don't tell my husband...)
I get a lump in my throat any time I drive past a sign that says "Redeployment Ceremony: this way"
I get mopey because I have to take the trash out.
I get frustrated because I couldn't get the carseat installed on my own.
I watch an inordinate amount of chick flicks.
I whine to my girlfriends
The list goes on....

So I guess "tough" is one way of putting it. I'm just good at not letting the vulnerable side of me show until it all sort of builds up and I just lose it for no reason and start blubbering in random public places over completely piddly things (not that I've done that any time recently...coughcough).

I would submit that most military wives deal with a rather schizophrenic set of emotions: one minute we're doing great, the next minute we're down, the next minute we're ok but just sort of 'meh', then we're mad, then we're happy again, then we just want to give the finger to Iraq and the Army simultaneously...

In light of this, I've assembled a sound track to a typical day in my life. Enjoy:

Pier Gynt: Morning We start out sort of relaxed and happy because it's really too soon after waking up for anything to have really affected our moods one way or the other.
Insert any obnoxious Nickelback song here: they're all annoying The baby starts screaming for no reason and I try to get her to either nap or stop screaming. She's gassy, teething or something. (I should note that I don't think my child's screaming has ever grated on me more than a Nickleback song, but it gets the point across)
Enya The baby is down for her morning nap and I get some unbelievably precious few moments of silence
Splish Splash Baby wakes up grinning and smiling. Yay! Happy music!
Ella Fitzgerald: Senitmental Mood Baby plays quietly, I work on crafts or whatnot, thoughts tend to prey on me but not to the point of getting depressed.
Moby: Everloving Still not depressed, but back to melancholy, especially if it happens to be a day that Jason doesn't get online until late.
John Coltrane: My One and Only Love Jason gets online and we get to chat but then I have to take the baby to the doctor....cue Ozzy:
CRAZY TRAIN! Shots. Baby Freaks. Baby won't settle down. Mom forgets to grab tylenol from the pharmacy. Baby still screaming. Runs back in to get drugs and the pharmacy is closed. Mom starts bawling. (at this time, Moby's Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad starts playing simultaneously with Crazy Train)
Lonestar: I'm Already There (You didn't seriously think you'd get away with no sappy country songs did you?) Driving home sobbing, all I can think about is how badly I want my husband home.
Billy Joel: Lullabye Sing the baby to sleep for the first of many times.
Journey: Faithfully This song started playing when I started Jason's car the other day. Journey is one of his favorite bands and whenever I miss him a ton, this one plays in my head. Finally fall asleep after tossing, turning and trying to get a tired and cranky baby back to sleep.
Helen Reddy: I Am Woman Amazing what a good night's sleep will do. I'm superwoman again and I even make a decent breakfast and do the dishes!
Bob Marley: Three Little Birds Baby is happy (!!!!), I'm happy, life feels pretty dang good today. The sun's even shining!
Sonicflood: I Want to Know You Meditating on God while I drive the 25 minutes into town. Realizing how much easier life becomes when I do lean on God and seek to know him more.
Phillips, Craig and Dean: Revelation Song Further realizing that if indeed God is Holy and Almighty (which he is), he is capable of bringing me through trials like having my husband halfway around the world.
The Afters: Light Up the Sky The events and chaos of the previous day finally seem a distant memory. Even at my lowest points, God will gently pick me and show me his glory and his grace and his love.

Pray for us wives as we continue on this adventure that God has placed us on. It's a series of highs and lows and though we may look like we have it together all the time, most of us don't. We put our happy strong faces on for our kids, our friends and even for ourselves but we miss our husbands dearly and we desperately need your prayers.

Ad Vitam

2011-01-21T15:56:00.001-08:00

I'm warning you ahead of time, this is one of those posts that will be long and heavy but joyful in conclusion so if you're up for it, grab a cocktail or a cup of coffee and join me as I engage in a little therapeutic blogging.

She stands with arms open in silent yet serene resignation, naked and vulnerable. She was, or rather, is the subject of a painting I did about 3 years ago. She is Suffering, Sadness and Longing, yet she is beautiful. She is Infertility. Those who are familiar with my "style" of painting know that this particular piece is a massive departure from the typically formal portraits and architectural studies of my college years. It is, to this day, one of only two paintings that have originated in the very depths of my soul as opposed to some sort of reference.

At the time of its creation, I was working full time on an Oncology unit as a Patient Care Technician while waiting to get accepted to nursing school. I adored my job more than any I have ever had, yet it carried huge amounts of heartache that still linger. I can still hear the Code alarm echoing through the halls, the wails of family members being informed of their loved ones' deaths, the sobs of a wife upon hearing her husband's terminal diagnosis. I can still see the pain-stricken face of the 30 year-old laboring to take her last breaths in the face of breast cancer and I can still see the grief overtaking the girl my age who lost her baby as a result of her cancer.

It was the latter set of of circumstances that gave way to thirty-six hours of sleepless, tear-filled painting. When the last stroke was finished, I didn't even want to look at her. I turned the painting towards the wall. I was exhilarated, having never painted with such passion or personal connection before, but I didn't want to see my own interpretation of the heartache and pain that I had observed and internalized.

After a few days, the turmoil gave way and I realized how cathartic the experience had been and went on to create another mixed media piece dealing with breast cancer. I nervously shared them online and was relieved at the responses I received. Still, the painting remained behind my door facing the wall and eventually, after packing it away, I forgot about it. Yesterday, an artist I follow on facebook posted a link to a collaboration of art by women that was accepting submissions. I decided to contribute my piece on infertility but I wasn't prepared for the emotional onslaught when I pulled the image up on my computer.

This is where things get intensely personal.

Many of you were aware of the complications I had following the birth of our daughter. In short, I almost died a few hours after her delivery and though the doctor had a decent guess at what might have caused the problems, we still don't have a definite reason why it happened. In light of this uncertainty, we made the difficult decision to surgically end our chances at having another child. I didn't think much of it for the first few months in all the chaos of having a new baby in the house, but the reality of never having another child lingered in the back of my mind and began to weigh very heavily upon me. At first I would try to make myself feel better by telling myself all the things we'd be able to let our daughter experience (camps! sports! travel!) that we wouldn't be able to afford with another child. I'd tell myself it was better to only have one with all the traveling we do in the Army. And then a friend would say the dreaded words "well, when you have your second child...." or "when are you guys going to try again?" and my paper walls would shred and the ugly reality lurking behind them would be glaring me in the face again.

It was during this very dark period that I suddenly began noticing the word "adoption" showing up on my facebook mini-feed a lot more than it used to. A former teacher here, some friends picking up their new sons in Russia there, another friend waiting for her daughter in China and my two friends in Africa waiting for their foster babies to get their forever family. I ignored it at first, dismissing it as a coincidence but it soon became very apparent that I wasn't going to escape the "A" word any time soon. I've never been against adoption, but like most healthy young females, I had a plan that involved two or three biological children exactly two years apart. I wasn't supposed to be the one rendered infertile by a freak accident on the delivery bed.

I reluctantly began considering adoption and was fairly shocked to discover my own selfishness. I found myself wondering how I could ever love a child that I hadn't carried for nine months. I balked at the thought of bringing another child into our home who might take some of our financial resources away from our "own" daughter. My list of concerns was endless, each reason more ridiculous than the one before it. I found myself sharing these with my brother in law's girlfriend one day and she wisely recommended the book Adopted for Life. I hadn't read two pages before I was in tears.

The fact was, I wanted to want to adopt. When I pictured children in orphanages all around the world, I couldn't bear the thought of one of them growing up forgotten when I had the resources to rescue from that and give them a family. In my heart I was hanging on to something that would never be and was wallowing in my grief rather than opening my eyes and my arms to a child desperately in need of a mom and a dad and a sister. I poured through the first chapter of that book with tears streaming down my face. I grieved openly for the first time since May and I told God I was ready to do what I knew he wanted me to do.

I felt like a new person but there was still one potential issue: my husband. One of the very few things we had never discussed was adoption and I had absolutely no idea how he would feel about the idea. I had also never really discussed my inner struggle over the events following our daughter's birth and I didn't want to bring all of this up over Skype with him halfway around the world. So again, I prayed. I prayed that if we were supposed to pursue adoption, God would work in my husband's heart completely apart from me saying anything. I decided to wait and see what happened. I admit that I had several "oh ye of little faith" moments, figuring that he wouldn't want to even consider the idea and feeling rather certain that he would never bring it up on his own, especially before he came home.

Never underestimate God.

We were chatting one day on Skype when he asked me completely out of the blue, "do you want to adopt?". I was floored. I tentatively responded that I was "thinking about it" and was completely unprepared for his extremely positive response. He had been thinking about it for a while himself and informed me that the Army would actually contribute to the cost of the adoption process. In that moment, I felt like the weight of the world lifted off my shoulders. We continued talking and he suggested we consider China since he speaks the language and we may end up living there one day, another answer to prayer as I had really felt God laying China on my heart in the days prior.

I was euphoric that night after hanging up. I felt closure, like I could finally stop grieving. I went out and bought a giant pink Rubbermaid container and for the first time was able to pack my daughter's outgrown clothes away without my heart breaking, knowing that the next time I see them I'll have my second daughter in my arms.

Three years ago, the woman in the painting was the visage of grief, of resignation to a fate unfairly placed upon her. She embodied what I saw rather than what I felt. Today she is Strength. She lifts her eyes to the one who carries her through the valley, and though her womb is empty, she opens her arms to those who need her. She is me.

So where does this leave us? Waiting. Which is completely fine as we have a big year ahead of us career-wise and also a gorgeous little girl who is already growing up too fast. China requires both of us to be thirty before we can even apply to adopt so we're looking at three years before we can even begin the process and it will be anyone's guess how long we will wait once it's begun. In the meantime, I'm reading everything I can on the subject and enjoying my little family and feeling very blessed to have Life!

I'm still here!

2011-01-09T19:25:00.000-08:00

Highlights of the last week:

baby that won't sleep at night
flights home
came home to a house that appeared to have vomited all of my earthly goods all over itself
baby that is completely confused as to where she is (note to self: month.5 long trips with a child may not end so great)
lots of grocery shopping
cooking every meal at home and NOT eating out (yay!)
cleaning the everliving daylights out of my house
crib training. 'Nuff said
Iraq sucks.
freezing cold weather
I bought an easel!

Aside from the baby's sleep issues, the past week has gone really well. I've been cooking completely healthy meals, I've kept my dishes washed and my kitchen clean, I've read to the baby and I've gotten 6 months worth of mail and bank statements filed.

Tomorrow was supposed to be the start of my running schedule but I may get thwarted by the weather. We shall see.

More updates to come once I really get settled into a routine.

Sweet November Rain: A Love Story

2010-12-31T12:36:00.000-08:00

I have never been a fan of New Year's Eve. I love a new year as much as anyone, don't get me wrong, but the whole notion of dragging oneself out of the house on a freezing cold night dressed in finery that isn't meant for freezing cold nights and putting oneself at the mercy of drunk drivers everywhere just doesn't make my skirt fly up (to quote Pioneer Woman...). Even at my wildest, I just couldn't get into it.

Then Hurricane Hanna happened. Hurricane Hanna changed my life. (if you're into love stories, this is the part where you grab some chocolate and a cup of coffee and prop your feet up...because you're about to hear mine).

It was mid-September, 2008. I was a degreed Artist working my butt (and my rather atrophied left brain) off in nursing school. I was living in Charleston, SC in a high rise apartment building less than a stone's throw from the ocean. I loved waking up to that view every morning but, having lived in Charleston as a child and survived Hugo hunkered down in my laundry room, I knew a thing or two about hurricanes. So when the 2008 season started heating up and Hanna appeared on the news, I made sure I had a flashlight and water, pulled the storm shutters closed, turned on the weather channel and prepared to wait it out. All of my friends were having hurricane parties and kept sending me messages to come join them in James Island or other locales off the peninsula. At one point, I had my keys in my hand ready to go before chickening out since, if the hurricane did make landfall and flooded the bridges, I'd be stranded.
Finally, after nearly 18 hours of being stuck inside with no hurricane anywhere in the visible distance (but the weather channel still saying it would be hitting us momentarily), I typed the words "Christian Dating Sites" into Google.

I can honestly say I had absolutely no intention of dating anyone or trying to date anyone during nursing school. Classes were hard enough without that added distraction and I had future plans that didn't involve a significant other: travel nursing, nursing in a third world country, the list goes on. Boredom can make you do some funny things though, and before long I was browsing the profiles of humanity's most desperate (or so I thought...).

The hurricane never hit but Hanna's ubiquitous threat had changed my life forever. I decided to get a free ten day trial so I could more effectively gawk, but before I knew it, I had a fully fledged out profile and was winking with the best of them. I made some friends, broke a few hearts and when ten days was up, I went on with life without a second thought. I thought my secret tryst with the world of online dating was over, but a month later I received a tempting email from the site offering me three more free days and, well, I accepted.

On day two of my free days, I was clicking through profiles when I came across a tuxedoed guy in his twenties with a military haircut and a killer smile. As a general rule, I never bothered with anyone who hadn't filled out their profile, and since he hadn't I clicked right on by. To this day I can't tell you why I clicked back, but I did. I also can't tell you why I attempted to IM him since the site's IM feature had been broken since the day I signed up, but I did and he responded. (I should also point out that he hadn't logged on in months). We exchanged AIM screenames since my free trial was about to expire and the rest, as they say, is history.

We talked every night about everything under the sun but as he was living in Arizona and I was in school on the East Coast, I never even entertained the idea of anything happening between us. I happened to mention him to my friend Amanda one night who essentially told me I was going to marry him but I laughed it off and went about my business as usual.

One cold rainy morning in November, I donned my scrubs and grabbed my bike for the mile ride to school. Dodging horrible Charleston drivers, especially in the cold rain always put me in a bad mood and it was only made worse by the fact that it was my birthday and I had clinical all afternoon. I stopped by the mail room on my way out and found a rather bulky card addressed to me from my internet friend. After momentarily freaking out over forgetting that my address was on facebook, I opened it and read the most articulate and beautiful letter I'd ever received. Enclosed with the letter was a beautiful St. Michael pendant given to him by his chaplain during his first tour to Iraq. I realized at that point that I was either going to have to stop writing this guy or marry him and judging by the sudden significant shift in my mood, I think I knew it was the latter.

We continued talking but there was a sort of tacit understanding that we were communicating as much more than random friends. By December we knew we wanted to be married so we went ahead and planned for a February wedding despite the fact that we had yet to meet. He came to meet me in person a few days after Christmas and the minute I gave him that first hug at the airport, I knew we had made the right decision. The next few days were a whirlwind of driving to meet my parents, applying for our marriage license, consuming large quantities of sushi and ring shopping.

New Year's Eve finally arrived. My usual disdain for the day was nowhere to be found as we got all dressed up for an amazing dinner at the Charleston Grille. Somewhere between the Foie Gras and dessert, he popped the ring out and asked me to marry him and with an enormous smile I said yes. As the rest of the restaurant applauded, we realized the string quartet had been right in the middle of November Rain. Nothing like a little Guns N Roses to get a relationship off on the right foot :). (I still find it kind of fitting in the most cheesy sort of way since it was a cold and rainy November morning that changed the course of our relationship.) We spent the rest of the evening calling friends and family and shocking the pants off facebook (most of our friends didn't even know we were dating) and headed back to the Grille around 11 to toast in the New Year. We didn't realize they were giving out free bubbly at midnight so we ordered two glasses of pink champagne (An Affair to Remember, anyone?). The restaurant was standing room only at that point and a few minutes before midnight, someone bumped into Jason and his champagne went all over my dress. I'm pretty sure he thought I was going to give the ring back and leave at that point but I couldn't stop laughing. We toasted to the New Year and to our new life together and headed out for a late night walk on the cobbled streets of Charleston.

The rest of the story is a whirlwind, really. He left for the west coast and I returned to my studies while madly planning a wedding for mid-February. My mom was feverishly making my dress and I was scrambling to find a photographer, florist and reception venue. In the end, we decided to make it a very intimate affair with family and a few close friends. I had two major exams within three days of getting married but thankfully my Psych teacher gave me the Friday off before my wedding that Saturday so I could spend some time with my husband's family (who I met that night for the first time!). The wedding was beautiful. I can honestly say the entire process was stress free. I made my decorations and the cupcakes, we had a simple ceremony with my dear friend Jay Bopp playing the bagpipes, followed by a wonderful lunch at the fabulous Rue de Jean. It was the perfect day and my only regret is that it didn't last longer. Jason left the following Monday and we didn't actually get to live together until the following December when I graduated and moved out west to be with him.

So here we are, two years and a baby later. Last year we spent New Year's in Venice. This year, He'll ring in the new year with a post-workout protein shake and I'll probably be passed out in bed with a baby next to me by the time it gets to us. 2011 will reunite us again before we know it because thankfully, "nothin' lasts forever, even cold November rain".


Happy New Year!

Paint chips and pretty things

2010-12-29T07:35:00.000-08:00

I'm a huge fan of my house. As much as I really don't care for Kansas, I'd love to be able to uproot my house and take it with me wherever we end up for the rest of our career. It has loads of character with its creaky wooden floors, textured plaster walls and 80 year-old windows that require special ordered screens because they just don't make windows that size anymore. I posted about my non-working fireplace angst several months ago, but I've softened and embraced its presence and sooty breath.

However.

I have unfinished business with the walls. Every single wall in the house is covered in the most hideous color of primer. The rules allow me to paint as long as I either paint them back when we leave (ugh) or paint them initially with a color that is considered a neutral (no bright red or orange...).
I've decided to go with the latter option since I'll already have to repaint the baby's room and that was a chore in the first place.

I tend to base the palette of my house off of my huge art collection which predisposes me to neutrals anyway. The living room will be my first order of business as it's the largest room and I just can't take such a huge expanse of taupey-brown any longer. The focal point of the room is a gorgeous abstract painting done by my favorite painting instructor, Jay Bopp. I originally intended to hang one of my own paintings, a very representational oil of the cadet chapel at West Point, over the fireplace but it merely added to the formality and heavy historical feel of the room. I'm a sucker for juxtaposing modern/cool with historic/warm so I decided on the abstract. In the same vein, the walls are begging for a very light, cool color to counteract the warm tones of the brick, floor and the heavy feel of the leather couch and woodwork. The first paint chip I decided on was a lovely pale blue, but after having it taped to the wall for several months now, I've realized it probably falls too much in the 'color' category rather than 'neutral'. I'm now leaning towards a very pale, cool dove-grey.

Home decor, like everything else tends to run in trends and paint colors are no exception. Grey is currently the new "it" color (at least from what I've seen on the daily blog circuit) and I have no doubt why: it's versatile, you can find cool or warm greys, it's the perfect foil for just about any piece of art and best of all (for me, especially) it's a neutral so I won't have to repaint!


GORGEOUS gray room via Ohdeedoh

(I'm sure my art faculty would prefer to see me blogging about painting canvas again but for now it'll just have to be the walls. Hopefully I'll have a post about returning to my oils soon...)

On to the Pretty Things part of this post (though I tend to include paint in that category...maybe I sniffed too much of it in art school, but I've been known to lose myself in the paint section of any store).
I created this style board a few weeks ago of things that have struck me lately.

There's something about cruisers that I love. Perhaps it's the association with the coast and leisure (pronounce that 'leh-zuhr' to get the full effect of my thought process ;) or maybe it's the actual aesthetic of them (the swooping curves versus the sexy streamlined angles of a racing bike). This particular one is just stunning with it's leather seat and mocha details. I have daydreams of riding this beauty along the ocean in Monterey with a little baby trailer on the back (and those gorgeous boots on my feet)...and then I wake up and remember I live in Kansas.
This day at the ocean brought to you by Nirve and currently on sale for $299.99!

Now let's discuss those boots. I have way too many boots, as I've mentioned before. Men (my husband included) will never understand a woman's love affair with knee boots, which is fine. I've tried to curb my desires but every time I think I've succeeded, I run across a new set of leather beauties that obliterate any amount of self control I might have gained. (I should note, however, that I have NOT bought these boots and am very proud of myself). I never realized that Timberland made pretty things until last year when I was browsing online for boots and found their collection. It's just one of those companies that was relegated to the "redneck" category where I rarely venture unless my husband drags me into Cabela's. (Imagine my surprise when I saw Timberland stores all over Italy!) But, as you can see, Timberland makes beautiful boots that are just begging to be on my feet pedaling that espresso colored bike...
I'll stop.
I was going to link to them but they're apparently sold out, which is probably good...

And now there's the matter of that delightful helmet. Because it is, you know, an actual legitimate bike helmet (!!!). If you're as enamored with cycling as I am, you should definitely venture on over to The Bicycle Muse and prepare to salivate. If all bike helmets were tweed, more people would wear them (this is my highly un-validated opinion, by the way). The one I've pictured is the Yakkay Helmet and would pair well with the cruiser and boots (are you noticing a trend?)

I won't wax quite as eloquent over the kitchenware pictured but here are the links in case anyone's interested:

The All-Clad Roaster (which I actually do need, one of these days..) from Williams Sonoma

Studio William cutlery (another "need", since I currently own a mishmash of cheap rusting flatware from the husband and I's pre-marriage lives).

Bodum cups and teapot. Who doesn't love Bodum...really...

The sweater is pretty but after looking at it online for a few weeks, it's not really my favorite (it was overpriced anyway). It's from Ann Taylor Loft but I believe it sold out online a couple of weeks ago.

2011: A New Hope

2010-12-27T11:50:00.000-08:00

(Sorry, I'm a shameless Star Wars fan...)

My girlfriend and I were discussing our relief at Christmas being over yesterday. We made the best of it with our children, but we're ready to pack the decorations away and start fresh. My friend has faced enormous difficulties this year: moving to a new place, having her husband deploy and then losing her baby a few days before Christmas, all while trying to make it a joyful season for her other three kids. She has weathered these trials with incredible grace, however, and her faith in God is strong. Still, it's no wonder that she's ready for the New Year and I have to admit, I'm right there with her.

There's something invigorating about sweeping out the old, ushering in the new, setting goals, looking forward to the Fall...

In the spirit of the new year and starting afresh, I'm undertaking an exercise that I have yet to make work in my twenty-something years: Day Planning. I bought a fairly simple Moleskine day planner about a week ago and have been using the baby's naptime to fill it out. I officially have all my meals planned through the end of January!!! I also have my gym days outlined, my Couch to 5K program noted both there and on the app on my phone (so convenient!). I'm determined to make this work for me this time. I'm not an organized person by nature but I've found that making schedules and planning meals actually does work for me so....here goes nothing..

I feel like all I've been talking about lately is organizing my life....

Let's change the subject entirely.
One of the fun things about postpartum is having to get a new wardrobe. Fortunately I'm roughly the same size that I was before I got pregnant, but I was in Nursing school for a year and a half so my wardrobe was 80% scrubs, 5% dress clothes and 15% yoga pants/hoodies. I went straight from that into maternity clothes which left my closet pretty unwearable on the other end.
When it comes to fashion, I'm very inspired by French women who can put together any number of outfits from a handful of classic pieces. My lifelong goal when it comes to clothing is to be able to do this, however I have to say I'm nowhere near reaching that. I blame this entirely on Anthropologie, J Crew and Ann Taylor Loft for tempting me with pretty things and incredible sales. In my defense, I no longer just buy the clearance t-shirts at Target in every color because "they were only 3 bucks each!". I've gotten a lot better at figuring out what I need and spending as much time as it takes to find that item so I don't spend a ton of money on 5 different shirts that sort of look like what I want. It takes discipline. (I don't have much of that).
My husband bought me a gorgeous plaid skirt from Anthropologie for my birthday and I've been on a quest to find the perfect blouse for it ever since. I finally found it (and a classic white blouse at J Crew) this week.

Isn't this skirt gorgeous??


...and then there was this blouse:

I've been fighting shoe lust since coming to my parent's (thankfully, there are no decent shoe stores back home but coming to the city is even more dangerous as a result..) and I even walked out of the mall without the pair of gorgeous Born booties I tried on yesterday. My bank account thanks me :).

I have a boot problem. Just ask my husband.

It's just another reason I'll never be like that elusive Frenchwoman.

On that note, I'll leave you with the greatest book I've read this year for all of you ladies who are looking for a little je ne sais quoi of your own:

Find it here!

Merry Christmas

2010-12-26T11:36:00.000-08:00

This is the only thing I needed for Christmas.

Mulled thoughts

2010-12-24T21:15:00.000-08:00

Somewhere on the other side of the Atlantic, Christmas morning is dawning on thousands of husbands, wives, moms, dads, sons and daughters. Mine will be dragging into his office soon where he will be greeted by a tiny silver LED tree, a stocking full of Christmas Peeps, DVDs and a Rush CD and his office mate who never sleeps. He will pour himself the first of several cups of Christmas Blend, go to work and count the hours till the sun comes up on the USA so he can Skype with our daughter and me. The surrounding offices will also come to life, coffee flowing, computers humming, small talk amongst the soldiers. Here a Lieutenant with a pregnant wife at home, there another Captain wishing he could be watching his little boy spend his first Christmas morning turning wrapping paper into a slobbery mess. Across town, another soldier's heart is breaking, knowing he can't be home with his wife who has just lost their baby. Yet another sends messages throughout the morning to the fiancee he proposed to just before leaving.

Christmas this year has been a mix of emotions for me. I'm fairly good at compartmentalizing my feelings, as it is the only way to get through a long separation like this, however the holidays tend to destroy even the toughest walls amongst the silent ranks.

I feel frustration and anger: I'll admit, I kind of slacked off in the gift giving department this year. Part of it is because I mentally checked out of the holidays when my husband left but most of it is because I just can't handle the shopping aspect of it. Have you seen how angry and mean people have been this season? One look around Target and you'll see a dozen frazzled moms, carts brimming with toys and electronics and not one shred of Christmas cheer on their face. What has happened to this season?? Why is happiness directly proportional the number of presents under the tree? Frankly, I'd be happy to spend Christmas in a cardboard box if it meant the three of us could be together.

I feel sadness: Let's face it, having your husband gone at Christmas sucks. Here's the thing though--people are always commenting on how hard this must be for me and the baby and the other wives and yes, it is hard. But I think it's a lot harder on those guys and gals who are heading into work this morning. I'm sad that my husband won't get to hear our baby babbling to herself in the morning while she tries to eat wrapping paper. I'm sad that his Lt. won't get to feel his baby kick while he and his wife spend their last Christmas alone for a while. I'm sad that there are guys who don't have access to skype or phones.

Yet...

I feel immense joy: watching my little girl turn an ornament over in her hands and bat it around the floor, dressing her in a pretty red dress for her very first Christmas, hearing skype ringing on my computer and knowing it's my husband. There is much to be joyful about. I'm alive, for one thing. Seven months ago, I wasn't sure if I would leave my hospital room, yet here I am. I can communicate across the world and I know there are many families that won't have that luxury this year. I'm with family. I have a wonderful support system of other wives.

So to answer the question I've gotten most today and this past week: "How are you doing?"

I am at peace. Tomorrow will most likely hold a lot of smiles and a few tears, but I am a very blessed woman. I have a gorgeous daughter and an incredible husband and faith in a God who has orchestrated this time in our lives. What more could I ask for?

Resolutions: the lifestyle edition

2010-12-23T09:40:00.000-08:00

So where did we leave off....?

I was pretty much banking on this blog gathering as much dust as my shelves in lieu of our new addition. I had hoped it wouldn't take six months for me to get back to it (don't worry, my shelves didn't have to wait that long) but it did and I haven't missed it. Having an infant around is the best diversion. The time has come, however, for me to radically renovate my entire life and a blog seems the best way to go about documenting, holding myself accountable and keeping my husband and family up on the goings on in our lives.

I realize resolutions go hand in hand with January 1, but I've been working on mine for the last couple of weeks. Being away from home for the holidays has allowed me to kind of step back and evaluate everything I need to do when I get back. It's hard to take stock when you're in the midst of the clutter and elbow deep in diapers that need to be washed. I've been jotting down lists, schedules, writing emails and taking mental stock of what the new year will hold for us and it's time to lay it out here. We'll see how things actually shape up (literally).

Home: Here's a quick recap of how things went down this past year: April: we moved. May: I unpacked as quickly as I could and gave birth. June-Novemberish: Infancy. Novemberish: Infancy, husband deploys. December: holidays. In other words, my house hasn't been properly organized and it's driving me nuts. Thankfully, the baby is getting to an age where I can do things other than hold her all the time and the house will be one of the first things I tackle when we get back. File cabinets, closets, kitchen cabinets....the creepy basement can wait till the husband returns though.
Body: Pregnancy tends to wreak havoc on one's person. Fortunately the only visible clue that it happened (other than the chunky little ball of energy known as my child) are some seriously rad stretch marks. Unfortunately, I've seen contestants on the Biggest Loser run faster miles than I'm capable of right now. I miss running more than anything so I've set a few goals for myself to get back in shape. First, it's Couch to 5K for me. (Those of you who run know how hard it is to start back at square one. The runner in me just wants to get on the treadmill/street and go. The formerly injured runner in me knows that I have to take it easy for the first few weeks.) Once I get back up to speed, I'm going to start training for the Big Sur International Marathon 2012. I've talked about this for years but have been foiled either by injury or pregnancy every time. This time, it's happening (and hopefully we'll actually be living there when it rolls around). I'll probably do a few 5Ks in there too just to keep me motivated. Were also getting a Concept 2 Rower in the next few months and I'm totally stoked about it!
Eating: Oy, this is the hard one. I'm gluten free already but being gluten free doesn't mean I don't eat my fair share of junk. I used to eat so well but since moving, it's been a struggle. I blame part of this on the utter lack of good produce and organic food in the midwest (sorry, one gets spoiled on the CA coast) but most of it is just my own fault and lack of motivation. So, once we get home, we're going totally Paleo. If you want to read more about it, go here. Basically, it's gluten free, dairy free, sugar free, grain free--just meat, veggies, fruit and nuts. I did this before and felt amazing so it's time to give it another shot. On that note, I've started a second blog that I'll be keeping up through the deployment: check out Sixty-Eight Hundred Miles here.
Soul: You might have noticed I listed these kind of working from the outside in and also towards the most important. The busier my life has become, the more I've pushed God and spending time in his word to the side. Honestly, if I don't accomplish any of the other things I've listed, I must fix this for myself and my child. Nothing matters more to me than raising a little girl who loves God and subsequently shows that same level of care to those around her. There's no way she's going to do that if she doesn't see it modeled in me, so I have some major changes to make. I'm looking forward to getting involved in PWOC and finding creative ways to broaden the wee one's view of the world. Thankfully I have friends around the globe serving in various capacities and I look forward to sharing their blogs and stories with her as she gets older.

So, lots to look forward to. 2011 is going to be a great year!

Newsflash

2010-12-19T13:30:00.000-08:00

If anyone out there is still actually reading this blog, look for a new offshoot in the next few weeks.

I'll write more about it soon....

Spring reds

2010-05-14T15:54:00.000-07:00

I love baking, but have somehow missed out on the spring glory that is Rhubarb. All of my favorite food bloggers have been cooking up decadent pastries, pies and panna cottas (I might be guilty of spending far too much time lusting over this over at Tartelette's blog..) so I thought I'd give it a try. The husband was in the field all week for training eating crappy Army food (mmm MREs) and, as this is one of his favorite pies, I thought he deserved it. I've actually never even tasted rhubarb (gasp) so once we slice into my first strawberry rhubarb pie attempt after dinner, I'll let you know what I think.

I didn't know where to begin as far as finding a recipe, so I initially turned to the recipe collection on Williams Sonoma's website. While they rarely disappoint, I couldn't help but think their particular pie recipe looked a bit boring, so I headed over to the Food Network site to see what they had. This was the winner (I mean, who can resist strawberries and rhubarb mixed with cinnamon, lemon zest and all that lovely butter...).
I have a fantastic gluten free pie crust recipe (found in Gluten Free Gourmet Comfort Foods cookbook) that I'm too lazy to type out here. Generally it works like a dream but the humidity must be low or something today because we had an all out fight. Instead of the usual silky dough, I ended up with a pile of crumbles that, in the end, I did manage to force into two crusts. It didn't make for the most gorgeous pie (thankfully you can't see my awesome patch jobs on the bottom crust) but man, that crust is so flaky it's unreal! I also threw some cinnamon and nutmeg into the crust to spice it up a bit.
It smells incredible and the little bit of filling that bubbled over was immediately swiped up with my finger...and it tastes fantastic.

I should mention that we are also having Pioneer Woman's meatloaf for dinner b/c J loves meatloaf and hers is positively decadent. I mean, who else has the balls to wrap her meatloaf entirely in bacon...that woman is my hero.

So before I eat my arm off (the smell coming from my kitchen is having that effect..), I'll leave you with a little project I did last week: I have one of the best neighbors ever living upstairs whose mothering skills I hope to emulate someday. I was making my mom a flower arrangement for Mother's day so I thought I'd make her one too..

Again, I'm too lazy to write out a tutorial on how to make the butterfly but it's pretty simple...I just covered some pages out of an antique french book (the literary gods are going to get me someday for cutting it up, but until then, it makes for great crafting material) with some tissue paper, cut out the butterfly wings, glued them on a little wire body that i made and stuck the little guy into the bouquet.

And with that, I'm off to gorge myself on some seriously amazing food.
And hang out with my awesome husband who I haven't seen in a week...YAY!

Granola bars on a breezy Friday afternoon

2010-05-07T15:06:00.000-07:00

Today was another quiet day--carless and still no baby. The car problem will be remedied Sunday evening when my [completely awesome] parents arrive from SC with my beloved VUE. The baby problem...well, we'll see when that goes down.

Springtime in Kansas has proven to be absolutely gorgeous. Today was slightly on the cool side, probably mostly due to the fairly stiff breezes all day. I decided to make homemade granola bars and the scent of baking oats, cranberries, apricots and honey paired with the gusts of wind coming through my window kind of evoked a bit of Fall. I imagine Fall here is beautiful...

Here is my first attempt at granola bars:

I don't think I'll ever buy the packaged kind again!
The thing I love about these is that you can put whatever you feel like in them AND be totally sure they're gluten free. I used gf oats, cashews, chopped dried apricots, dried cranberries and puffed flax (puffed rice would be good too, but flax is full of all sorts of wonderful nutrients)...the binder was honey, a little butter and a little vanilla.
Next time I think I'll probably make them a bit thinner so they're crunchier and stay together better (these just sort of fall apart, which is also fine since I've just been grazing off the pan all afternoon!).

That was the extent of my excitement today. Hopefully I can convince J to take me to Hobby Lobby so I can get some stuff to work on a couple of projects I have in my head. Oh, and tomorrow is the first Saturday Farmer's Market in Manhattan and I can't WAIT to go!

Finally, I just had to post this beautiful travel baby bed by Lalapanzi. Yes, I'm lusting...

Happy Weekend to you all! Hopefully I'll have a baby by the end of mine.....ha!

Evolution of an empty fireplace

2010-05-06T08:03:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I discussed my disdain for the unusable fireplace in my living room...which got me thinking about it even more....and made it impossible for me to go to bed last night without at least attempting to make it look awesome.

This is a rough draft of what the final product will be.

The greenery is temporary, simply a filler until I can get some actual plants to fill in some of the empty space. I'm loving the mirror, as it kind of opens up the cavern a bit. All of the candles are yellow (the color is a bit washed out in this picture). I'm also going to get one or two small paintings to add to the mix from my dear friend Annie (and I'm hoping this one is still available...):

I still welcome your suggestions. I had considered using it as a bookshelf (good call Rachel!) but this would require way more cleaning than I'm willing to do (lots of historic soot!).

nesting much?

2010-05-05T14:40:00.000-07:00

Let's face it, weeks 37-40 are the most brutal weeks of the pregnancy. Everything is a major operation, from turning over in bed to walking down the hall, not to mention the waiting. Just waiting.

Today, however, I apparently began "nesting". The dishes have been piling up in my sink for the past few days because my belly has become a barrier between me and any waist-high counter space, and I've generally lacked any desire whatsoever to do them anyway. The bathrooms were bordering on almost being disgusting, and the laundry was to the top of the hamper. None of this has phased me much until this morning, when I woke up horrified that I'd let the place go and determined to rectify the situation before lunch. So as I write this, my house is sparkling and I also hung all the artwork in the dining room that had previously been chilling on the floor.

I also managed to completely exhaust myself, so here I am sitting on my couch, contemplating my next decorating move. Which brings me to my latest source of consternation--the cavernous eyesore, otherwise known as the fireplace that doesn't work but can't be removed because my house is a historical landmark.

Perhaps in an effort to ease the blow of a fireplace that must forever remain useless, the housing people left us that incredibly high quality ~~piece of crap~~ screen and a couple of tools to at least make it look legit (both will be finding new homes in the basement shortly). I am now left with the challenge of figuring out how to decorate it without it looking cliche (read: candles) and without it being a hazard for crawling babies eventually (read: candles, most live plants, just about anything else you can think of). I may give myself a pass on the latter since she won't be crawling for some time and since, knowing myself, I'll need a change of scenery about the time she does become mobile.
So if you're reading this, feel free to give your ideas. I'm not entirely against plants and candles, I just don't want them done in the way that every other new housewife does them.

Speaking of plants, I stole a few clippings from the landscaping in my yard and popped them in a couple of spice jars (my new favorite bud vases).

There really is nothing better than fresh flowers sprinkled throughout the house.

And last but not least, my walls would be extremely happy if either of these lovely Etsy finds were hanging on them...I mean, how cool is that lightbulb vase??

Light Vase by JohnCorcoranDesign
Hanging Test Tube Vase by PigeonToeCeramics

Zen

2010-04-29T18:53:00.000-07:00

This post is entitled 'Zen' because today I'm going to give you all the tour of my [stubbornly] unborn child's nursery and it happens to be the only room in the house that is completely unpacked, put away and decorated. Sometimes I go in there and sit on the floor and soak up the calm while silently trying to will my water to break.

Before I get to that though, I have to take a quick detour to talk about my breakfast, which was inadvertently awesome (hey, when all you do is sit around waiting for your water to break, a fantastic breakfast can be an enormous diversion!).

Last night, I made a giant pot of homemade soup, but was fairly disappointed when I realized I had no buttermilk to make biscuits with. I scavenged the cabinets and came up with a gluten free pancake mix that could, supposedly, also be made into muffins. I figured I'd give it a try but after following the directions explicitly, I ended up with something the consistency of play dough that has sat out too long. Not to be deterred, I went ahead and baked them, figuring they would kind of melt and spread and puff up like normal muffins do. The husband and I watched as the little muffin balls remained staunchly in their original form and began to resemble small rocks as the timer ticked closer to 0:00.

We decided to try them anyway and, to our amazement, they actually tasted like decent shortbread! Soooo this morning, after stumbling into the kitchen all bleary eyed and contracting and hungry, I did what any pregnant woman (or my mom) would do and tossed a couple of the shortbread muffin rocks into a bowl, covered them with strawberries and doused the whole thing with a healthy shot of cream. And then I did it again, and would've done it a third time, but my strawberries are all gone.

So there you have breakfast.

Now on to the Wee One's room..

I had this room painted and the dresser refinished within 3 days of us moving into our new house. No doubt this is the reason I ended up in the hospital on Terbutaline a few days later, but I digress...

I had absolutely no desire to have a pink, frilly or otherwise overtly girly room so I chose artwork that I knew I wanted on her walls and kind of based the color scheme off of those--very loosely. I wanted a very light, airy look, which ended up working out well since the room itself is quite small. I'll let the pictures speak for themselves, with a few comments interjected here and there.

This is the whole room, taken from her doorway:

We like books, what can I say:

We also like glass jars full of tiny baby socks. I recovered the lampshade with fabric from Heather Bailey's delightful fabric line. I highly recommend finding some excuse to buy some pieces, as they are beyond lovely! The wallflowers were a local boutique find, but they are made by Umbra and come in several different finishes.

Next stop is the dresser. Oi, the dresser. This was a last minute Goodwill find that I picked up a week before we left California. It was in pretty rough shape, so I decided to go ahead and start sanding it down and refinishing it while I waited for the movers to come later in the week. Being the brilliant soul that I am, I failed to lead paint test the thing until I had most of the top sanded, and of course, the test came up positive. The husband and I decided to go ahead and at least try to get the paint stripped off before it went on the moving truck (brilliant idea #2) which ended up being more of a hassle than we expected. We still managed to get it stripped and primed..just in time for it to rain non-stop for the remaining 3 days before the big move. The day the movers came to load the truck, it was still tacky and I told my neighbor that he could just keep the thing (I wanted to kick it off a cliff at that point..). The movers laughed, stuck it out in the sun and it was dry by the time they were finished, so on it went. Thankfully, it all ended well and it is now the perfect little accent for the nursery, complete with ceramic hardware from Anthropologie and a very large Crocodile from Ikea.

These are the pieces of art that were the basis for the whole room: the beautiful fish were created by Annalisa Fink and the two smaller ones were finds from Venice, Italy and Carmel, CA. The two beautiful prints are the work of my dear friend (and artist extraordinaire) Cory Godbey and can be bought here for your own enjoyment.

A little diversion from the decor: We will be cloth diapering, and I dare you to find anything cuter for your baby to poop on than these lovely little numbers from Bum Genius and Thirsties. I buy all of my diapering paraphernalia from the wonderful cloth diaper queens at Baby Cotton Bottoms in Colorado Springs, CO.

Ok, almost done. This rocking chair was mine as a child, made with love by my dear grandfather and used/abused with as much love by me. I really really want to paint it, but I'm struggling with sentimentality issues. Maybe someday. In the meantime, I just dressed it up a bit with a little handmade cushion and an alpaca teddy bear from a street vendor in Bolivia.

Aaaand last but not least, the crib. I fell in love with this gorgeous canopy crib from Babyletto back in the first trimester and was originally going to deck it out with some filmy white cotton curtains I have from a former apartment. And then reality hit and I learned about babyproofing (double Oi) which is another post in and of itself. So I spent quite a while trying to come up with something that wouldn't choke, suffocate or otherwise do major harm to my child, while also making the canopy bed actually worth having. This was the result, and while I'm not 100% happy with it, it's not bad, and gave me an opportunity to bring a bit more yellow to the room.

So there you have it. I'll leave you with one of the most beautiful nurseries I've seen pulled off in a while, courtesy of Ohdeedoh. I've lusted after it all day and contemplated repainting my own nursery a lovely greyish plum color...but I'll refrain.

full post and more pictures here

Kansas

2010-04-27T13:06:00.000-07:00

I can distinctly remember the moment several years ago when, on a family road trip across country, I stared out the window at the bleak flatness off I-70 and said to God, "God, I'll go just about anywhere in the world you want me to go, but please don't ever make me live in Kansas". On a subsequent trip to Colorado, upon passing the exit for Fort Riley, I remarked to my parents how bad I felt for the people who got stuck stationed there.

Or rather, for the people who got stuck stationed here.

As fate, luck, karma, but most likely God would have it, I'm currently attempting to take up blogging again (for the 4739294th time) from my house here in the middle of Kansas. My life as I know it has taken a drastically different turn from the one I assumed it would take once I graduated with my BSN last December. I entered nursing school extremely single with the intention of getting the degree and getting the heck out of the US, preferably to the most remote, 3rd world location I could find, where I would live with the natives, help them birth their babies, learn to be an amazing photographer and keep one of those fascinating blogs that makes the middle of the Sudan seem like a place where anyone would want to go for the rest of their life (I blame my friend Sarah for that last part).
Several things happened though:
1) I found out I couldn't eat gluten and that it was the cause of several random but potentially serious ailments I'd been dealing with. The areas of the world I had been looking at survive off of a lot of wheat. So, end of story.
2) I met this guy in the Army and married him...within a couple of months of meeting him. In case that wasn't enough to upset my precious set of plans, I...
3) got pregnant.

The fact that I married into the military really didn't shock me since I'd grown up in that life. However, I was never going to be that girl who got married and then got pregnant and then *gasp* decided to be a stay at home mom.

But I am, and I did, and I'm going to be...and I couldn't be more happy.

Back to the Kansas issue. As I pointed out earlier, Kansas has always been a waste of a state to me: there is no ocean, it's flat, and it appears entirely monochromatic (at least from I-70).
When we got our orders to move here, I decided I was going to have to do everything in my power to find all the wonderful aspects of Kansas, otherwise three years was going to drag.

And so that's what I hope to do with this blog from now on...if I can actually manage to keep it up once the baby shows up.

I'll go ahead and start by saying that I actually love it here so far. I-70 isn't a very good indicator of the rest of the state, as evidenced by the fairly lush green trees here on post, the hills (my running shoes can't WAIT for those!) and the amazing sunsets that seem to go on forever. There are lakes, rivers, creeks, cattle, farms and actually a lot of decent sounding events in the surrounding areas.

I'll be posting about these as we get to explore and experience them. In the meantime, I'm kind of preoccupied with the goings on in my uterus and am waiting to either go into labor or have my water break or both. Either would be more than welcome right about now, and since I'm stranded at home without a car, you'll probably have to put up with me raving about various baby products or posting pictures of my house which has yet to be completely unpacked and cleaned.

lovely bikes

2009-08-26T14:00:00.000-07:00

Lots of you, please click on that so I can win one of these!

Nerdageaddon

2009-08-24T12:42:00.000-07:00

This weekend, I was one of a select few who managed to obtain tickets to, and attend, the mecca of all things Nerd: Blizzcon 2009. For those of you who are blissfully unaware of the gaming world, Blizzcon is THE gaming convention and is put on by Blizzard, the company responsible for creating World of Warcraft, Starcraft and Diablo.

I actually do not play any of these. Once upon a time, many moons ago, I played on a guest pass and leveled my Knight Elf Druid, Morgaene, to a whopping level 3. This is the extent of my forays into the gaming universe, though after this weekend, it probably won't be my last. In the meantime, nursing school and life in general are my first priority so my alter ego as a Blood Elf will have to wait (yes, Blood Elf, because I've been informed that most adults and real gamers play Horde..).

I really had no idea what to expect upon arrival to the Anaheim Convention Center. Jason had to work Friday so we were only able to make the second day of the event. (As a side note, driving in LA is quite possibly the most miserable activity I've been a part of in my adult life. It trumps cleaning up after a C. Diff patient, hands down.). When we finally arrived at our hotel Friday night, there was no question we were in the right place: the lobby was a sea of black t-shirts, thick-rimmed glasses and intense discussion about continents, races and lore that exist only in that ethereal otherworld known as the internet. As we were waiting for the elevator, the door opened and they were crammed in like sardines: nerds, bags of swag and cases of mountain dew and chips. We smiled to each other, knowing that the next morning would produce hundreds of dark circled eyes and caffeine sales after an entire night of raiding.

As expected, we emerged the next morning to a huge line already forming outside the convention center. Thousands of unshowered, groggy-eyed, Starbucks wielding heroes rallied to take on another day of their pilgrimage. Jason and I joined them and were soon squeezed in between pockets of slightly stale smelling guilds. I mentally grimaced at the thought of being stuck there for two hours until the doors opened, but as I began observing and listening, my perception of this fascinating crowd and the pastime that unites them all began to change.

Let me take a few moments to pan out from Blizzcon and discuss some other events taking place concurrently at the hotels and convention center that day. The Center is conveniently located at the end of a short street in Anaheim that is lined with huge hotels. Our hotel was hosting the National Little Miss pageant on Friday and Saturday and the one directly across the street was hosting some sort of Christian conference for young people (high school through college aged, it appeared). The juxtaposition of these three groups was rather intriguing: the gamers seemed blissfully unaware of either of the other two, while the Christians didn't quite know what to make of the hordes of slightly unkempt looking nerds. The gaggles of overly painted mothers and tiny tots competing for hot pink trophies seemed painfully angsty and interested in nothing more than beating the other tiny tots rather apathetically sitting in piles of satin and tulle along the walls.

My observations began focussing on the reactions the Christian crowd had to the gamers and I was really quite disturbed and disgusted by what I saw. Each time the groups merged, which was unavoidable given the proximity of the meeting places, the perfectly coifed Bible toting cliques pressed a little closer together, eyeing the other group with disdain and dissolving into fits of laughter tinged with harsh comments concerning the types of people they must be. To be truthful, I wanted to slap the mouths right off their faces.

As the day progressed, we stood in lines in an attempt to finish a quest, played twenty minutes of the new WoW expansion, bought some swag and enjoyed the artistic talent of several Upper Deck Artists. I continued listening and watching and noticed several things:

This group doesn't give a crap about what they or anyone else looks like.
I didn't hear one person say anything gossipy, mean or rude about anyone else. The only division was the fairly friendly Horde v. Alliance rivalry, but even that was carried out in good fun.
New friends were made instantly over something as simple as a common server, and they then spent the rest of the day together hanging out

Possibly the most fascinating observation I made was that there were a number of disabled folks at the convention. I noted several wheelchair-bound people whose mobility was limited to their hands and arms. One man appeared to be paralyzed from the waist down. One was a dwarf, several wore hearing aids and still more had various and sundry ailments that impaired some form of function or another. I mentioned this to Jason and he summed it up quite brilliantly: The world of online gaming is an equal playing field for them. They can log on, kick some butt and make friends with people who a) can't see that they're disabled and b) don't care if they are or not.

The more I thought about this, the more it perturbed me that the thousands of young people across the street who were supposedly convening in the name of Christ were incapable of this sort of love and acceptance. Conversely, they overtly made fun of those who weren't as in style and clean and who chose different forms of entertainment from them.

Jason and I finished our day at the Charity Auction where we attempted to procure an original painting that one of the Upper Deck artists had created live throughout the convention. I fell into conversation with one of our rival bidders who, along with his wife, decided to pull out of the bidding so Jason and I could have the painting. Another guy came in and raised the bid above our cap so the nice man jumped in and won it for a steal. In an unbelievable display of generosity, he chased us down outside the booth and offered to let us have it but we declined. We're still just blown away by how completely cool of him that was.

Later that night we joined the other thousands of Blizzard devotees for the closing ceremony. After a hilarious opening act by the band Level 80 Elite Tauren Chieftain (comprised of some of the top artists and designers working for Blizzard), Ozzy Osbourne graced the hall with a deafening performance. Aside from his obtuse use of the F word (and drugs), he seems like he's probably a pretty cool guy. He looked slightly less stoned than he usually does and put on a great show. We left early because I couldn't take the noise, but at least we can say we've seen the Prince of Darkness live (is that something to be proud of...?)

The weekend came and went, the nerds are all probably happily logged back into their accounts, saving the World of Warcraft from the powers of the Lich King and doing whatever else they do online, and I'm incredibly glad I got to go. Thank you, nerds of the world, for letting me be a part of your universe for a day.

Un repas

2009-08-18T18:37:00.000-07:00

This evening's fare consisted of fresh eggs procured at the farmer's market last night, paired with fragrant rosemary-infused figs wrapped with prosciutto.

Jason prefers his eggs

scrambled with nothing fancy. I, on the other hand, like mine in omelette form, flipped in the pan and served with herbs and cheese (tonight's had fresh snipped rosemary with a bit of ricotta and prosciutto folded into the center).

The figs were wrapped in the prosciutto, threaded onto rosemary skewers and sort of pan roasted until they were tender and warm through (they're supposed to be grilled but this was easier). The finishing touch is a warm sauce consisting of 1/2 cup of red wine, 1 tablespoon of brown sugar, 2 tablespoons of champagne vinegar (or balsamic), 1 teaspoon of freshly minced rosemary and a cup of raspberries (I just let all this simmer until it is warm and the berries are tender).

Applesauce from last night finished the spread which, according to the main man, was extremely successful.

Duck Tacos with Nectarine Salsa

2009-08-18T15:54:00.001-07:00

nectarines, 1 lb

lime, 1

red onion, 3 tablespoons finely chopped

jalepeno chile, 1, seeded and minced

honey, 1 tablespoon

kosher salt

boneless duck breast halves, 2

chili powder, 2 teaspoons

romaine lettuce, 2 large leaves, finely shredded

corn tortillas, 8 warmed

Halve and pit the nectarines, and then cut them into 3/4 inch pieces. Finely grate the zest from the lime, and then squeeze 1 tablespoon lime juice. In a nonreactive bowl, combine the nectarines, lime zest and juice, onion, chile and honey and mix gently. Season to taste with salt. Cover and let stand at room temperature at least 30 minutes and up to 2 hours.

Using a sharp, thin-bladed knife, score the skin of each duck breast half in a crosshatch pattern. In a small bowl, stir together the chili powder and 1 teaspoon salt. Season the duck breasts with the chili powder mixture. Let stand at room temperature for 30 minutes.

Place the duck breasts, skin side down, in a large frying pan. Place the frying pan over medium-high heat. Cook until the skin is golden brown and the duck has rendered a good amount of fat, about 7 minutes. Transfer the duck to a plate and pour off the fat from the pan. Return the pan to medium-high heat, and then return the duck breasts, skin side up, to the pan. Cook until the undersides are nicely browned, about 7 minutes more for medium rare.

Transfer the duck to a carving board and let rest for 5 minutes.

Cut each duck breast half across the grain into slices about 1/2 inch thick and transfer to a warmed platter. Serve right away with the salsa, shredded lettuce, and tortillas. Invite each guest to fill tortillas with sliced duck, some lettuce and spoonfulls of salsa.

New Flavors for Chicken, Williams-Sonoma

Overall, I loved this recipe. I was a total duck novice, having never eaten or cooked it before, so I was a little shocked at how greasy the meat is. It has an amazing flavor though, especially the crispy, chili seasoned edges. I might try chicken next time just to cut down on the fat and cost but the duck paired incredibly well with the fruit salsa. The salsa is divine and I imagine it would go nicely with a really great goat gouda. I got major props from the husband which is all that really matters in my kitchen :).

Steak with Raspberries, Figs and Blue Cheese

2009-08-18T15:27:00.000-07:00

1 cup red raspberries

3 tablespoons sugar

2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

1 tablespoon olive oil

1 small red onion, thinly sliced

8 large or 16 small figs, quartered

2 ounces ham, chopped

1 teaspoon finely chopped fresh rosemary

3/4 teaspoon garam masala (Whole Foods carries this)

Freshly ground black pepper

8 boneless rib-eye or beef tenderloin steaks (about 2.5 lbs total)

6 ounces of blue cheese, crumbled

Prepare a hot charcoal fire or preheat a gas grill on high, or preheat a broiler. Lightly oil the grill rack or broiler pan.

In a small saucepan over medium heat, combine the raspberries, sugar, and vinegar. Simmer for 10 miutes, or until reduced by half. Set aside.

Meanwhile, heat the oil in a medium skillet over medium heat. Add the onion and cook for 5 minutes until soft. Add the figs, ham, rosemary, garam masala, and 1/2 tsp of pepper. Cook for 5 minutes, or until the figs are very soft. Set aside and keep warm.

Season the steaks generously with salt and pepper. Grill for 12 minutes, turning once or until a thermometer inserted in the center registers 145 degrees F for medium-rare.

Place each steak on a plate. Top with an equal amount of cheese and cover with some of the fig mixture. Drizzle a few tablespoons of the raspberry sauce over all. Serve the remaining fig mixture on the side.

Simply Organic, Jesse Ziff Cool

Culinary Explorations

2009-08-18T15:06:00.000-07:00

I should note that, as I write, I'm eating an Asian pear that I picked up from the Pacific Grove Farmer's Market yesterday afternoon. I'm not sure I've had a pear like this in a long time if ever: crisp, bright, delicate floral and honeyed flavors...it's really fairly magical.

I've been going slightly crazy in the kitchen lately, due mostly to the fact that I actually have time now and also to the unbelievable produce available in the central coast of California. Figs the size of my hand, gorgeous avocados, strawberries, raspberries that melt under the tongue, and the list goes on. I have to limit myself each time I go lest I end up with more than we can possibly eat!

My mother in law gave me a fantastic cookbook for our wedding and I'm going to share a few recipes in the following posts from it and another that I picked up. I usually just throw whatever I feel like cooking together but these recipes meld flavors that I would never think to combine.

Tastes of the Idyllic Life

2009-08-18T15:04:00.000-07:00

Despite the fact that I visit here every couple of months for a few weeks at a time, I'm still not convinced that Pacific Grove, CA is real. The weather is always in the sixties, the houses are bedecked in gingerbread and surrounded by picket fence-enclosed gardens of wildflowers, people walk to the market where they are greeted like old friends and one can see the ocean from just about any elevated point in town. (Please take this moment to ignore the fact that, as I'm writing this, Santa Cruz is burning to a crisp and scattering its ashes on post...)

Two days ago, I discovered that the PG library is where it's all happening. The librarians call you by name from the minute you apply for your card and they most likely know just about everything about everyone living here. The children eagerly discuss the events of their days with these women as they scan their piles of books and the kindly librarians ask, in turn, about their pets or their parents or how their grandmother is doing. Tucked into quiet carrels and bent over stacks of reference are the snow-headed saints of a generation I know far too little about. Who knows what they're researching? I wish I did.

On the corner of a block just two streets from my house is a delightful knitting and quilting shop that is run by a sweater clad motherly woman with a twinkle in her eye, a young tattooed twenty-something with a gentle smile and two very soft dogs who know exactly when it's 1:00 in the afternoon. Skeins of handspun wools and tiny balls of perfectly balled silks cover every available space. I think it's impossible to leave the place without some bit of wool or cotton tucked in a bag and a tip or two on how to better your purl or knit stitch.

Coming off of nearly three months of absolute insanity, it's a bit jarring to enter into this world where people hang signs in their business window that say "be back later" and the only establishments that stay open past 6 are the local chocolatier and a handful of restaurants. I'm having to re-learn what it means to sit back and take life in. I'm relishing the hours in the afternoon that I can spend trying new recipes, teaching myself to knit, sitting down on the rocks by the ocean reading and the obvious hilight of my day: getting to be there when Jason gets off work and spend the rest of the afternoon and evening hanging out.

I wish I knew when this country decided it was such a good idea to speed life up, wake up earlier, work later, eat fast food instead of carefully thought out meals, forego relationships for the ease of online connectivity...the list goes on. While I realize life will never be Pacific Grove all the time, I think this town teaches me something every time I'm here about how things really should be.

And with that, I'm off to check my fruit soup that is currently chilling in the fridge. Recipe and pictures to follow :).

Transience

2009-06-03T12:53:00.000-07:00

I've begun packing my part of the Charleston apartment--preparation for the first of three moves that will take place over the course of the next year. This one isn't quite as major as the two to follow (moving across town as opposed to the cross-country then cross-? that will happen in December and April) yet I still find myself attacking it as my family has any of our many moves: carefully stored boxes are whipped back in shape with a little packing tape and items are stacked neatly inside with the precision of one whose packing tutelage took place under the watchful eye of a retired submariner. Five boxes of books later, there are still enough on my shelves to fill at least two more--another Egolf trait that I've discovered is latent in my husband as well (Uncle Sam's gonna love paying for our moves!).

I'm quite certain by this time that my roomates think I'm nuts. I don't move for another three weeks, yet I feel like I should've started a month ago. I like to face the week of a move with boxes packed, most of the cleaning done and only a few odds and ends to throw in the car. The strange thing is, I like packing. I like moving. I'm one of those freak-of-nature military brats that made it out of her childhood actually enjoying the life of being uprooted every two-three years for a fresh start (a good thing too, since the next fifteen years or so are going to follow suit). I love the process of weeding out, throwing away and streamlining. It satisfies the stifled type-A side of me that is only allowed out to plan weddings in a week, survive nursing school and, well, organize a cardboard box full of books so that only two square centimeters of space remain inside. I also relish the fresh canvas a new house or apartment presents where I can arrange the old into a vivacious new.

Packing cannot occur without the inevitable wave of nostalgia that comes with handling each possession individually. Even the boxes, already marked up from two moves evoke memories of the nearly disentegrated Allied movers' boxes that somehow survived my childhood. Scrawled across them in red and black are contents, destinations, rooms and instructions-an unlikely family record of sorts.

I can trace the annals of my life through the worn bindings of color-arranged books. Egypt, Gods of Egypt, Archaeology in the Middle East: Jr. High and High School when Zahi Hawass was the man and I wanted nothing more than to dig up old things and meticulously catalog them. The Koran, The Bible and the Qu'ran, Turkish for Beginners: High School and college when I lived and breathed the Middle East and sought out any way possible to get there. Romanticism, Human Anatomy for the Artist: my first undergrad degree. Blue Like Jazz, The Barbarian Way: the first time I questioned my faith. Virus Hunter, DNA: when Nursing appeared on the horizon as a viable career option. A small motivational book for students: a gift from a terminal cancer patient's husband just before she died. In the Land of Invisible Women, A Book for Midwives: third semester of nursing school. I Love a Man in Uniform: my beautiful unconventional marriage.

Next to go in the boxes was a shelf full of twenty plus pieces of pottery, mostly mugs, with a few vases thrown in. Every one has a voice, a laugh, a memory. Two orange and green glazed mugs remain from a set of six that I commissioned Dan Marinelli to make my freshman year. The other four became gifts for a gentleman that took a package to some friends in Israel for me. Two tall, gangly mugs textured by clay covered fingers take me back to the ceramics room where they were formed: Tim Pike on one side of me, Dave Siglin's sister on the other and a lot of insults, teasing and slurry being flung in between. Kammer's oversized mug and delicate vase are inscribed with peculiar faces that resemble a collision of the Muppet's hecklers and Keith Richards--day after day they sit on my shelf staring at me with the same deadpanned humor that their creator probably had on his face when he scratched them into the clay.

Once the knick-knacks and books are packed away, the difficult job of wading through piles of uncategorizable stuff commences. A pile of scarves, swag from college that somehow survived the last move's purge, an assortment of textiles from various forein countries and several bags from Bolivia, Turkey and the Army-Navy store. The latter was the source of my all time favorite messenger bag--a brown canvas number I snagged for seven bucks back in 2004. Sewn on the front was the Turkiye patch I picked up later that year and fastened next to it was a tiny button that stated "Save the Dalit!". Awash with memories again, I made the excrutiating decision to let the bag go as its inside pockets were shredded and it hadn't been used for the better part of two years. I grabbed a set of suture scissors and went to work salvaging the patch from the front flap. As I ripped the last of the threads out and lifted the patch, I discovered the original marking on the bag that I had forgotten about completely: a red cross on a field of white: the very symbol that my nurse sisters tirelessly served under in the late 1800s and one that embodies everything I'm currently studying to do. The irony of the situation struck me hard: when I'd bought the bag, I remember searching to the bottom of the pile for one with no markings but settled for this one when I couldn't find another, knowing I could just sew the patch over the decal. I had no idea that five years later, the dreams of kilims and kofta would be overshadowed by stethoscopes and sphygmomanometers.
The bag survived the purge.

There are, of course, aspects to moving that will never be pleasant, especially when the event occurs in the middle of a Charleston summer, but these are rather inconsequential. This particular move is especially exciting since it marks only six more months of nursing school and living three time zones away from my husband. At this point, only God knows what will be scribbled across my boxes in ten years, but I plan on enjoying every second of finding out.

Heroes

2009-05-31T19:12:00.000-07:00

“We can’t all be heroes. Some of us have to stand on the curb and clap as they go by.” - Will Rogers

It wasn’t a ticker tape parade through the streets of New York but the energy in the cramped gates of Reagan National Airport rivaled even the wildest of parades. I heard the clapping and the band and saw the red, white and blue before I even made it through security, immediately assuming it was a returning active duty unit. I soon realized these soldiers weren’t the young strapping ACU clad men and women that I was expecting. They arrived in wheelchairs, with walkers and some pulled oxygen tanks behind them. They wore tissue paper poppies on their shirts and faded hats perched high on their foreheads. Some looked bewildered at all the fanfare, most humbly smiled and a few openly wept.

These men had braved the trenches, survived the shores of Normandy and rained fire down on German warplanes. They risked their lives on land, sea and in the air and lived to tell about it. Over sixty years later, they face a new enemy: age. Statistics show that around 1,000 WWII veterans die every day.

The Honor Flight Network has, in a sense, begun a race against time to honor this generation of veterans by providing all expenses paid trips to Washington, DC. to visit the WWII memorial. Donations are solicited via Honor Flight’s website, commercial flights are chartered and veterans who can’t afford the trip on their own are flown into the city for a day that is all about them. They are assisted during the flight and city tour by “guardians” (volunteers) and greeted at the airports by a band and “ground crew” of volunteers waving flags and clapping. The mood is infectious and, as I saw at Reagan, the general public is eager to join in the festivities.

It was moving, to say the least, watching such a rare display of patriotism, respect and awe. Complete strangers heading to their gates stopped to hug the veterans, another woman put her bags down to tie the shoe of a former pilot who couldn’t accomplish the task on his own without great difficulty. A WWII widow shook the hand of every one of the service members and thanked them over and over again. Tears were flowing freely. Many of these men won’t live more than a few weeks or months after their trip but Honor Flight has made it possible for them to fulfill a final wish. The Honor Flight Network relies entirely on Donations to make these trips possible—please visit their website today, read the story of how they got started and do your part to honor our WWII veterans.

www.honorflight.org

Truxtun

2009-04-27T08:52:00.000-07:00

The relationship between a man and his ship is nearly incomprehensible for the average landlubber. The vessel is more than just wooden ribs or a metal hull—she is a living organism. At sea, her crew becomes attuned to her innermost intricacies and within days of first meeting, they are a seamless mechanism-an active and absolute symbiosis. She becomes their home, in some cases, their protection. It is understandable then that a decommissioning is much like the passing of a dear friend and conversely, that a commissioning can bring a swell of emotion and pride to the throat of even the most seasoned sailor.

This weekend I had the privilege of attending the commissioning ceremony of the USS Truxtun, the Navy’s newest destroyer, with my father. The crowd was comprised of the usual assortment of uniforms, young sun-dressed Navy-wives, children who can’t yet grasp the greatness of this life they are a part of and Veterans. Scores of Veterans in tweed jackets, loud patriotic ties and ship’s caps that have weathered more generations than I have lived. Some are bedecked with medals, some with pins. All bespeak the rich histories of these men who are, in themselves, national treasures.

We sat in rows of plastic chairs facing a scorching sun and slapping at the clouds of gnats that threatened to carry us off. We listened quietly as a new command was bestowed. We stood and applauded the bright and energetic young sailors as they ran to their posts and we cheered as the hulking ship came to life. With her colors flying, she and her crew become one—ready to face whatever lies ahead. The voice of the Chaplain rang out over the crowd, invoking the blessing of the Almighty God upon her to the strains of the Navy hymn and bringing tears and memories to many who had been at this place before—

“They’re all plank owners now” says my Father. “No one can ever take that away from you.”

Eternal Father, strong to save,
Whose arm hath bound the restless wave,
Who bidd'st the mighty ocean deep
Its own appointed limits keep;
Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee,
For those in peril on the sea!

O Christ! Whose voice the waters heard
And hushed their raging at Thy word,
Who walkedst on the foaming deep,
And calm amidst its rage didst sleep;
Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee,
For those in peril on the sea!

Most Holy Spirit! Who didst brood
Upon the chaos dark and rude,
And bid its angry tumult cease,
And give, for wild confusion, peace;
Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee,
For those in peril on the sea!

O Trinity of love and power!
Our brethren shield in danger's hour;
From rock and tempest, fire and foe,
Protect them wheresoe'er they go;
Thus evermore shall rise to Thee
Glad hymns of praise from land and sea.

the 18th, 8 months later

2009-04-18T18:31:00.000-07:00

Completely unwittingly, I logged into my old blog on the exact same day as my last post--just 8 months later.

Who knew how much 8 months could hold.

On August 18th, 2008, I was in my first week of nursing school, single (VERY single) and I had exactly 3 friends in this city. Now, I'm halfway through nursing school, have been married for two months, and have made more friends than I can count.

About 3 weeks ago, I had my best friend change the password on my facebook account so I couldn't be distracted by it for the last month or so of school. The absence of my favorite vice forced me back into the land of the living where people use pen and paper to communicate and where they sit over coffee or tea to chat. It's been an invigorating past couple of weeks--I started running again, started going to yoga and I wrote letters. I dug out dusty boxes of creamy white stationary and favorite pens and a part of me that had been supressed by Mac-worship came alive. I also inadvertently unearthed several old journals and found myself almost distraught at having let 8 months get away from me with only facebook statuses to document their goings-on.

I've felt somewhat renewed in the last month--the realization that I'm halfway through school and less than 8 months away from truly beginning my adult life has put an extra little bit of verve in my step. Perhaps I'll start a new journal and perhaps I'll keep this blog up a bit more.

((blows dust off the blog))

2008-08-18T20:56:00.000-07:00

Thus begins a new chapter in the oh-so-riveting life of Gwen.

Today was more hours of completely mind-numbingly boring information than I ever care to spend again. Hopefully not indicative of what the next four semesters holds....

I've spent the evening fighting with every form of technology I own except, thankfully, my cell phone.

The internet decided to go on sabbatical this evening just as I needed to finish my webCT orientation, my new printer which was finally delivered today (a full week late) was broken upon arrival, thus prompting a trip to Staples to return it and another trip to Circuit City to get a different one. Oh, and did I mention that I left my laptop charger in Greenville yesterday? Fortunately my ridiculously and unbelievably amazing parents drove down here to deliver it (a trip NOT requested by me, in fact I felt awful that they went out of their way like that just for a computer cable..but as it turned out, it was providential in light of the broken printer mess. Dads are way better at trouble shooting that kind of crap)

So here it is, midnight, one glass of Cabernet and a bowl of chocolate velvet ice cream down and time to get ready for another stimulating day tomorrow.

concerning cancer and art

2008-03-31T19:30:00.000-07:00

I'm a painter which is supposed to mean I express things via brush and pigment...or something like that.

I have a confession: until the last 36 hours, I have never "expressed" anything. I have merely reproduced, added a little personal flair and contributed to the already overflowing mass of pretty art and kitsch in the world.

I have searched vainly for a muse and I have finally found her in the most unlikely of places: 5D, oncology, Greenville Memorial Hospital.

My job exposes me to the most raw aspects of the human soul and nature. Modesty is stripped away, dignity lost and faith tested to the Nth degree. Nine months of dealing with death, both physically and emotionally, have created a veritable Niagra of feeling within me--the tension of which grew so great that the creative dam finally broke and the result is two days of incessant painting.

My first piece is intense but still beautiful in ways. My second piece makes me uncomfortable. I have poured enormous amounts of my own self into this painting, almost without realizing it. I'm exhausted after 2 very focused hours of working it but I feel such a release--unlike any I've ever felt where my art is concerned. It could be labeled innappropriate by some. Shocking by others.

I may post pictures eventually but I'm currently still trying to process.

Friday's fare

2008-03-15T07:30:00.001-07:00

Oh my...

2008-03-14T12:23:00.000-07:00

I already know I'm a children's book snob.
I won't even pick it up if the illustrations don't meet my standards.

I generally feel about the same way everytime I pass the toy department at any of the major stores--they've become so cheap looking, too electronic...I just get disgusted.

but THESE!!!

jaune

2008-03-12T12:23:00.000-07:00

I don't really like yellow that much but it becomes the daffodil.

Bic pen sketches in the park, bubble tea, matte blue sky and sun just cool enough to be wrapped in Bolivian wool.

Currently: Bjork, cotton curtains betraying soft breeze, Rooibus.

I sewed an apron. I think it's kind of cute actually:

cakelette

2008-03-12T11:11:00.000-07:00

check out this charming little cupcake stand. Yet another completely clever Etsy creation--

also..

2008-03-10T16:37:00.000-07:00

I love this:

indian summer

2008-03-10T14:09:00.000-07:00

At George's behest, I started a new sketchbook and the idea is to do one sketch every day.

We'll see how this goes.
Here is the first (please forgive the crappy picture...when I feel like fighting with my scanner I'll post a better one)
The park was lovely today and full of all sorts of fascinating human beings. However, since Greenville County likes to encourage being outside for long periods of time downtown by leaving parking tickets on your car, I could only stay for a couple of hours.

My favorite bubble tea shop is re-opening in the morning and I'll be missing the festivities due to twelve hours at work, but if you're in the area, I highly recommend visiting O Cha (now located on the West End, just past Doug Young's studio on the Riverwalk and directly beneath the Lazy Goat). I'll be vicariously sucking tapioca pearls through a pastel straw whilst saving the world one cancer patient at a time.

cadmium

2008-03-07T19:07:00.000-08:00

One of my all time favorite cyber haunts is
Artcyclopedia, a fabulous resource that I discovered in the throes of art school. As I was stuck in a hotel with nothing else to do today (after being forced to tour the Hershey Chocolate Factory), I decided to find an art genre that I knew nothing about. I ended up reading about Tonalism and as I scrolled through a list of occasionally familiar artists and demure landscapes, I came across a piece that was strangely nostalgic and completely unlike the others. I give you Youth, by Arthur Frank Matthews.

When I was a child, I would often get lost for hours in a (very worn, very beloved) book of Greek myths brought alive by hauntingly beautiful Mucha-esque illustrations. Matthews' deviation from staid trees and foggy landscapes brought back the earthy and fresh childhood visions of dancing driads, Persephone and her pomegranate and lavish feasts on Olympus. The Tonalist's dancing youths bespeak Waterhouse's maidens clothed in the warm springtime palette of Mucha and the masters of Art Nouveau--an excellent marriage.

I recently found my tube of white gouache, without which I am utterly powerless in the area of water media, and was immediately renewed in my resolve to start painting again.

3.5.2008

2008-03-05T15:39:00.000-08:00

fromage