Stay-at-Home What?

Spring has sprung, but I feel like it's nearly the start of summer vacation! That's right. Only 6 days until I'm done with work!

"Already?!"

I get that a lot.

Super Husband and I made the decision soon after we found out about Baby. It's important to both of us that I stay home with our kids, and Super Husband insisted that taking time off before Baby arrived would be the healthy choice for all three of us. I'll admit, "type A" me took a few weeks to get used to this idea. In the end, I agreed to stop working in April, with the promise of freelance editing from home as long as I can.

Some days I feel a bit guilty about it. Nowadays, it's not uncommon for new moms to work right up to delivery and then high-tail it back to work as soon as maternity leave is up. It amazes me! But I'm also grateful for this opportunity to finally take on my dream job as a stay-at-home mom, or, as my Mom lovingly called it, a "domestic engineer."

I think I confused people by leaving my job so "early." (Frankly, 5 months out of a lifetime of parenthood doesn't add up to much!) Coworkers bemoan not getting to see my growing belly--although I promised I'll stop in--and friends who don't know how far along I am wonder if I'm due sooner than expected...and just ridiculously small still?

But the biggest question has been, "What are you going to do in the mean time?" One coworker teased, "Take up knitting?" I suppose she could've meant it sincerely, since I do work at a quilt/sewing/yarn book publishing house. Kidding aside, I think they actually want to know what a mama-to-be/stay-at-home wife does.

Plenty.

Over the next few months, will my status be...
A full-time freelancer?
Self-employed?
A homemaker?
A stay-at-home wife?

All of the above, I guess! I'll be freelancing as "full-time" as I can manage while making sure I'm taking care of Baby, my body, and my home. Yes, freelancing means "self-employed" and I've ALWAYS considered myself the homemaker of our little family. I was already a stay-at-home wife once, but the early days of marriage meant I was busy stumbling my way through cohabitation and the job search (far from my "network," I might add)! This time, I have familiarity on my side. We're settled into our home, I know where to shop and what chores need to be done, and I hope that there will still be time leftover to keep doing the editing that I love while nesting!

And the timing couldn't be better!

Professionally, it aligns perfectly with other position shifts at my company. So I know I'm leaving my job in capable hands. Plus, I've lived my dream of being a copy editor and learned valuable skills that I can carry on through freelancing. It's been an excellent run.

Personally, it means I'm free to host my family this summer without taking PTO, and our travel plans will hinge on Super Husband's schedule alone! Add on the convenience of NO commute and NO more feeling restricted to a desk (Baby and I need to get up and move around a lot these days). It seems like the perfect fit for this stage of life and pregnancy!

So I'm looking forward to it, even if I do feel sentimental over leaving my office and the friends I've made there. I want to spend this time well. Call it what you will: stay-at-home wife or stay-at-home freelancer. I'm aiming for the high goal of stay-at-home mom. And I can't wait to meet my little "client." This new season is a blessing. Not a luxury I take for granted. An incredible blessing.

#13 See an orca in the wild

I wasn’t on a whale-watching tour. I wasn’t even up in the San Juan Islands, the fabled sighting-waters of the local orca pod! It was a typical ferry commute from the mainland to Whidbey Island…on Thanksgiving Day, no less! Could it have been any more perfect?

We were waiting in the car line when the harbormaster announced there’d been orcas sighted on the last crossing, “So keep an eye out!” As we drove aboard, I glanced over the water, thinking the last sighting had been a fluke, when I saw…A FLUKE! (Actually, it was mainly the tall, sharp dorsal fin, with a brief glimpse of the tail flukes afterward.)

As soon as we parked, all the ferry passengers left their vehicles to gather on the decks. We didn’t wait long before we saw fins slicing through the water, puffs of mist, and the occasional breach! I missed the biggest jumps, but Super Husband was looking in the right places at the right times.

This is the only photo we managed to get, but it’s proof—I’ve seen orcas in the wild!

The pod was moving east through the strait. The ferry captain had to cut the engines a few times to let them pass in front of us. It made for an extra-long ferry ride, but worth every minute of delay, in my opinion. Although, I felt bad they had to keep asking passengers to return to their vehicles so we could disembark. No one wanted to leave the decks in case there was more to see!

I overheard locals who had been born and raised on Whidbey (my husband included) say they’d never seen an orca from this ferry crossing. A rare treat—a Thanksgiving gift!

As soon as we reached my in-laws’ house and told them what happened, they pulled out the local paper to show us the front page—a story about the Californian orca pod that had ventured up to Washington this fall! So, we knew where our Thanksgiving visitor’s came from. I, for one, am glad they got a little lost. It made for a dream come true on a pretty standard trip.

#6 Go to a Sounders game

My first impression as we walked toward the Clink (Century Link) stadium was, “This looks and sounds an awful lot like the Colosseum.” Having just visited Rome only two weeks prior, the sheer size of the arena felt familiar. Granted, it’s not built with stone archways and columns, and the violence doesn’t even begin to compare with the horrors that took place in the arena, but there were similarities: The thunderous roar of the crowd, hungry for action; the epicurean consumption of overpriced food and drink; the fancy boxes for rich patrons; and the angry shouts over a bad play or call.

Many even chanted, “Let him die! Let him die!” whenever a member of the opposing team was stalling for time by rolling on the turf in apparent agony. While the sarcasm was evident and the player was most likely not hurt, it was still eerie. Not unlike the Latin “Lugula! Lugula!” chant in the Colosseum. (“Kill him! Kill him!”)

This comparison goes to show just how intense North American soccer (mainly it’s fans) can get! The number of spectators and enthusiasm for the sport surprised my parents in particular. Their flight arrived that same day and, in spite of jet lag, they stood and smiled through the whole match! The Sounders were losing (miserably…to a sub-par team, I hear), but Mom and Dad looked like they were enjoying themselves! Now before my Sounders-fan friends cry foul, they weren’t relishing in the defeat, but simply taking in the experience. I’m just thankful they were willing to come out on a chilly night, when their internal clocks were telling them it was 10pm. What troopers! They handled the night with more grace and contentment than I did.

I embarrassed myself right off the bat by asking our row mates if they were in the right seats (I thought I heard Super Husband say different numbers). One girl gave me a sidelong glance and muttered that they should know, they sit in those seats every time. I made some laughing comment about how we were obviously the newbies here. But she didn't laugh. Or smile. Or even acknowledge my presence once I sat down next to her.

*awkward turtle*

Should've known from that moment we were in for a crummy game. What a way to kick off the experience!

Other less embarrassing highlights include recognizing Dempsey and other players I’d only seen on TV. Our seats were better than I hoped, and it was surreal to watch the game up close. The cheering section was nearby—all the jumping, motions, and singing looked exhausting! How do you even get to watch and enjoy the game like that?!

My favorite part was turning to see my parents in the section next to us, surrounded by screaming fans with raised blue-and-green scarves. They kept me from getting too disappointed by this first experience. I also enjoyed sitting next to Super Husband, who finally got to wear the Sounders scarf I bought him our first Christmas together. He patiently answered my questions about calls and hugged me close as we wove through the maze of passages, clogged with spectators.

I have a feeling we’ll be back...and next time I'll remember to give those cranky season pass holders (friends excluded) a wide berth. Mitte! Mitte! ("Let him go free!")

#4 Celebrate Super Husband earning his FSA

A journey that began when we first met is finally over! Super Husband obtained his Fellowship in the Society of Actuaries back in July, but we held off on the official celebration until he had his certificate in hand. I am once again floored by the intelligence and wisdom of the man I married. I’ve never met such a hard worker!

At Super Husband’s induction banquet, the speakers kept saying how this was our (the spouses’ and supporters’) night too. We smiled at each other, gave and accepted congratulations, but I still feel like I did very little compared to all the time and dedication my husband put into his fellowship. While he was taking numerous exams, working on time-consuming projects, and spending countless hours of studying…I was simply doing LIFE and cheering him on.

That role has changed since college when we first started dating. Back then, my support consisted of verbal encouragement, a few baked treats, and one very cheesy CD mix of “go get ‘em” songs for him to listen to on his long drive to the exam center. As his long-distance girlfriend and fiancé, it meant sacrificing date nights and closeness (part of why we lived so far apart) so he could start his career in Washington AND continue his studies.

As his wife, the supportive role looked more like this:

Do life (chores, represent him at social gatherings, etc).

Pray that he had the strength to study just one more hour.

Make coffee.

Keep our calendar relatively clear so he could study.

Make more coffee.

Pray fervently leading up to, during, and after the exams (waiting for results was hard too!).

Live in patience.

Offer the encouragement and words of praise he needed and deserved.

Pray that he’d reach the end SOON!

And he did.

With the last exam over, the results received two months later, and the fancy banquet out of the way, it was time to party! We were excited to host our own in-home celebration for family and a few friends who were there for us these past seven years. I even had a Pinterest board dedicated to the planning. I wanted it to be special.

I spent all day setting up the homemade touches I’d worked on over the previous weeks—difficult to do, as we were smack dab in the middle of planning our Europe trip. Nerdy math/actuary jokes provided a little entertainment…maybe more so for Super Husband, but that’s the way it should be! I chose his favorite colors—blue and green—as the “theme colors,” and completely overlooked that these are our city’s team colors, both in soccer and football. It worked out, as the lady at the dollar store had plenty of blue and green balloons pre-filled!

In a nutshell, it was a fine party. Just fine. Some key people couldn’t make it, or simply didn’t show. Our catering order was late and messed up (at least I tried to pull out all the stops and not put the pressure on myself to cook!). The evening was cooler than expected and all my backyard setup ended up underutilized. (Deja vu of my 16^th birthday party where we spent more time huddled around the woodstove than the luau-themed basement I’d spent hours preparing.) And I forgot to take pictures and have the guest of honor cut the cake. Thankfully, a friend took some with his amazing camera (and skills), so the evening wasn’t totally undocumented.

When it was over, we both felt relieved. Again, not exactly the resulting emotion I had envisioned. Content would have been better. Or celebratory? Exhilarated at what this party symbolized? Oh well, relief is still appropriate. We made it. It’s done. And we get to move forward in this life we share, without consideration for study/exam schedules. Praise the Lord!

My Precious is Looooost!

It's confirmed: Super Husband's wedding ring is (was) the One Ring. If it's gold, shiny appearance didn't convince you, the fact that it "had a will of its own" should! Sometime during the last week of May, the ring left his hand. It wasn't in any of the places he might have taken it off (to work out, do dishes, etc.). Believe me; I checked. On my hands and knees, looking in the most unlikely places imaginable, I searched.

Not on the counter, not in the recycling bin, not in the laundry. My neighbors must've thought I was insane, crawling around the lawn on my hands and knees, picking through the grass. If they'd asked, I would have told them it's because there's a slim chance he could have lost it there, while pressure washing our deck! Perfectly logical!

The scariest moment was when I was searching the garage...again..and found myself sobbing, face to the floor to look under the freezer, and repeatedly asking, "Where is it? Where is it? Where IS it?!" I thought about how much I must look like Gollum, though it didn't amuse me at the moment. I suddenly understood his crazed, anguished movements when he discovers "his precious" is missing.

I know, "it's just a thing and you still have your husband." I get that. But I also feel the sting of loss for what it was--a representation of our wedding day, our vows, the start of our forever. Not to mention, it was his grandfather's ring, with "God hath joined..." and their initials inside to remind us of their legacy of a God-centered marriage. That's not something you can replace.

Maybe we'll still find it. Maybe it'll show up as we go about the shuffle and mess of living. I'm trying to come to terms with it being gone for good, but it's just so hard to think about shopping for another ring, or looking at our wedding photos (and any photos since) where it's shown. I'm not a fan of a newer ring, even one that's more comfortable (sorry, Super Husband--just being honest). I want him to have THAT one, the one I put on his finger 3 1/2 years ago. And if he can't have that one? Do I let him walk round with a bare hand? (Well, that's how it's been for the past month. What's another 60+ years without one?!)

Not giving up on it just yet. It's either in the house or gone for good (I'd prefer the former, obviously). So, if you know any keen hobbits who may have something in their "pocketses," be sure to let me know. ;)

The Winter of the Icky-Icky Colds

I love the way Brian Jacques, author of the beloved Redwall series, named the seasons in his books. "The Summer of the Late Rose," for example, just drips off the tongue. You can just picture the woodland creatures all basking in the lingering sunlight and warmth of a late-summer's eve.

If I were to name this season, however, it'd be "The Winter of the Icky-Icky Colds." Not nearly as charming. But, for a lack of a better description...

Everyone and their mother (not exaggerating) have dealt with one form of illness or another--all within the span of several months. (Thank you, Captain Obvious. You're welcome.) Since, chances are, you're among those who've suffered through cold after cold--each with it's own load of symptoms and general unpleasantness--I salute you. I've felt your pain. We've made it! Almost.

Spring is officially here next week! That may not mean the snow's gone (for my Midwest and East Coast readers), or that you're immune to the sneezed-in hands and snotty noses of germ-spreading children in your life. Personally, I'm gearing up for allergies and the odd colds that creep in to try to ruin my season. But I'm hopeful none of them will be quite as bad as the sicknesses that have made this winter so...memorable.

Fevers, chills, runny noses, sore throats, ear aches, stomach bugs, burned tongues (from all that hot tea we've been swigging), and annoying coughs. We bid you adieu. And good riddance!

So what should we dub this season? The Spring of the Emancipated Tissue Box? Spring of the Sudden Heat Wave? (Oh, if only!) Or maybe we can all agree on the Spring of Good Health! Mmmm-hmmmm.

My Relationship with American Football

I'm not a big football fan. I enjoy a good game and took most opportunities to "watch" the Steelers games with friends in college. (I was, after all, living just north of Pittsburgh.) Confessions: I usually did homework during games and never quite understood why everyone got so depressed when their team lost. Even our own college's team lost pretty much EVERY game, but that didn't stop us from sitting through at least the first half of the homecoming game, right? Okay, maybe that was for the fireworks at half time...and for the drill team's "Superman" dance with the pom-poms, because that was pretty entertaining...

I was often (and still am) asked, "You're from New England. You must be a Patriots fan, right?" Sure. I liked watching the Pats. My Dad would watch a few of their games on occasion. The Super Bowl was a social event I always looked forward to--Patriots or no Patriots. So, yeah. "I'm a Pats fan." But I never understood their confusion when I couldn't name any players, didn't know how the Pats were doing this season, and couldn't tell them the tiniest stat or factoid about the team...except that a lady at my church was their flight attendant for several years and got us free team-logo plates and cups for a party one year! Wooohoo!

So, I'm a "hometown loyalty" kind of fan. (How's that for one thing college taught me? Think they'll give me my $66,000 back?) This stuck with me for the first year of residence in Washington state. Blame it on homesickness if you must. But by year two, I found myself actually interested in our local teams. I'll admit, I first became intrigued by the team colors. Blue and green? My favorites! Then it was the logo--a fierce-looking hawk in the Native American art style. And finally, I started watching more and more games with my growing group of friends here. Through observation and a few explanations from wiser fans, I found myself able to follow the game's progression and actually recognize (and get excited about) good plays!

*cue heroic NFL music* I became a Seahawks fan! (Now, before my East Coast crew cry foul...I still root for the Pats when I catch an odd game here and there. I love New England. I just love my new home too, K? *hugs*) This was the first NFL season where I felt like I could appreciate the journey. We'd usually have the game on in the background while Super Husband studied and I did chores, or we'd sit down when we heard it get really interesting. By the time the last playoffs game rolled around, I was jumping and cheering along side Super Husband and his family. It's been a blast!

Enter Super Bowl XLVIII! We had a great crew of friends over for blue-and-green themed treats and a great game on TV last night. *spoiler alert* (This is for the benefit of those who've been living under a rock for the past 24 hours. You can come out now.) The Seahawks won! It was a good day to be a Washingtonian, to get to see and experience the celebration first hand. First Super Bowl win ever, huh? Could've fooled me! :) Regardless of the whining on Facebook, the pointing fingers about players' personal lives and character, and how next season turns out, I think it's safe to say this NFL season has made a Seahawks fan out of me. Not a "hardcore" one, I'll admit. But a fan...and much more so than in the past. (I can actually name a few players and give you the odd tidbit about the team. And I'm pretty sure Russell Wilson is my favorite...not just because he shares my father's name. Dad, why wasn't your basketball nickname "Danger-RUSS!"???)

Anyway, just wanted to take this opportunity to say THANK YOU to the friends who made this season so much fun...and "Go Hawks!"

#63 See "The Nutcracker" at the Pacific Northwest Ballet

Yes, Super Husband is quite super. And when I asked if we could get tickets to see Stowell & Sendack's "Nutcracker" at Pacific Northwest Ballet...he didn't even flinch! It probably helped that I had a BOGO coupon from our Entertainment Book. (Can't pass up a good bargain, that one!) We picked up tickets for an evening performance the Sunday after we returned from New Zealand.

I had grandiose ideas of a Christmassy evening--seeing all the festivities at Westlake Center, dining out, maybe even ice skating at Seattle Center (it was even FREE skate night!). But alas, jet lag, work fatigue, and Greg's study schedule got the best of us. So we ended up just driving down for the ballet only. The night turned out to be foggy and drizzly, so it was probably best this way.

I'd walked passed McCaw Hall many times during my visits downtown, but it never looked as good as it did that night. HUGE Christmas displays, a giant tree, cutouts of "Nutcracker" characters, lights, and fancy Plexiglas cocktail tables. It was packed with people taking pictures, shaking the rain from their coats, and climbing the stairs to find their seats.

We were glad we wore nicer clothes (thanks to church in the morning)--it was easy to feel under-dressed! There were lots of couples, young and old, dressed formally for the occasion. And there were families with young children, all gussied up in party dresses and collared shirts. I even saw a girl much too young to be wearing heels, walking carefully in her fancy shoes. Wonder how much she begged and pestered her parents to wear those! Personally, I was quite comfortable in my ballet flats (an appropriate name, given the circumstance).

(not mine)

Our seats were in the middle of a row up in the third tier. I'd made the mistake of asking for the fourth tier when I bought the tickets. The box office attendant laughed and said that would be on the roof, but this wasn't too far off! Even in the "nose-bleed section," we had a great view of the stage. The art for Stowell & Sendack's "Nutcracker" is pretty unique, and the proscenium (there's a remnant of my Theater Minor knowledge for you) was colorful and fun to look at. Kids settled on their booster-cushions, pointing at the orchestra pit, while adults thumbed through their programs. I made Greg read the summary, although he claimed to know the story. I assured him, this was NOT the student version I'd dragged him to back in our dating days, and the story was a little more complex. I'm glad I read it, anyway!

Finally, my favorite part of any theater or cinema experience--the lights dimmed. I've probably mentioned this before, but this slow transition to darkness never ceases to send a quiver of excitement up my spine. A few weeks ago, I attended a "Sound of Music" sing-a-long with friends at the 5th Avenue theater, and it was equally thrilling to see the ceiling's giant gold, ruby-eyed dragon fade into blackness. It's the knowledge that what you've been waiting for is about to begin, and the next time the lights come on (besides intermission, of course), you'll have witnessed a whole story unfold before your eyes.

The ballet itself fulfilled my expectations. Even though I'd seen the 1987 movie version on Netflix, this was entirely new. The familiar music still gave me chills. I found myself whispering "Wow!" when the prince spun and leaped ridiculously high during his solo. And Greg and I chuckled to ourselves during the famous pas de duex with its repetitious crescendo--he'd been listening upstairs one day when I was watching the version with Baryshnikov, and he said he thought that song would never end! :-) I loved the snowfall during the dance of the snowflakes, too--it was the only "snow" I saw this Christmas, after all! Just magical.

My favorite dance was the peacock's solo, probably because it's performed to one of my favorite pieces of Tchaikovsky's "Nutcracker," but also because the ballerina was incredibly graceful...and almost disgustingly flexible! How I wish I could kick that high or bend my back parallel to the floor! *sigh* Well, if it means wearing a feathered multicolored unitard while doing it, I'd rather not... 

(not mine)

With a final "clack" of the Nutcracker's jaws over the scene of Clara's waking, the audience applauded. I laughed, imagining how, as a kid, I'd probably think this meant the Nutcracker ATE Clara in the end! It was a pretty scary, bug-eyed nutcracker to begin with...but this surprise bit of theatrics kind of startled me!

It felt like the ballet was over too soon, but I could understand why it needed to be--the little boy in front of us what starting to wiggle with restlessness, and the little girl next to Greg was kicking his chair with more ferocity. :-) We really enjoyed it and I was pleased with the experience. Check #63 off the list! It may or may not become a family tradition for us down the road, but I hope to go back someday, maybe with a little ballerina of my own beside me (no heels allowed until she's much older, of course)! Even if my kids aren't dancers, I hope they, like Super Husband, will know how to appreciate this art form.

New Yearizing

After the holidays, I was kind of relieved to find the TV shows I'd been following came to their season's end. It finally felt like I wasn't "missing" anything by watching Christmas classics or whatever struck my fancy...or nothing at all! I could finish those final episodes at my leisure and not feel anxious for the new season to start! Contrary, I'm sure, to what the networks hope I will feel. Hey! I've got better things to do than worry if your fictional characters will make it out alive! I'm pretty sure they will--or at least remain in mortal peril long enough for your bank account to bloat with royalties.

That feeling of closure is one of the only ways I can manage to take down my beloved Christmas decorations every January. The warm lights on the Christmas tree and house have welcomed me home, making these dark, winter nights a little less dreary. I hate to see the season of celebration end. But once I start putting a few things away here and there, it doesn't feel so bad. We celebrated well. And the thought of a fresh living room--not as cozy without a lit tree, but a little less "crowded"--makes me excited for the possibilities. I start organizing things I'd neglected over the holidays (like the shoes piling up in our coat closet). With all my Christmas crafting and gift-giving finished, I look forward to home decor projects and making my list of gift ideas for the coming year of birthdays, anniversaries, and special occasions. Forget new year resolutions. I'm just happy to feel motivated, even sporadically!

It's too early for "spring cleaning" and too late for "winterizing," so what do you call this phase? "New Yearizing!" The time when we send thank-yous for Christmas gifts, find homes for said gifts, and clean out a bunch of junk that's getting in the way! That's what I plan on doing over the next few weeks, whenever I get a spare moment. Unclutter a little bit of this. Deep clean a little bit of that. Get overwhelmed by how many of these we've got. Try to figure out which of those need to go... You get the picture. It seems that "New Yearizing" also means more meetings, social gatherings, and renewed commitments. None of these things are bad, just busying. Now that the "holiday drive" has lifted (that urge to plan, host, invite), it's almost like we go through withdrawals...so why not plan a party! :-) I'm all for it! I just have to figure out where I put that shiny new weekly planner of mine...

Christmastime Is Here

I'm always chomping at the bit when it comes to celebrating Christmas. I do celebrate Thanksgiving and I don't mean to rush it. (I've always thought of it as the first day of the Christmas season anyway, prepping our attitudes and hearts for advent.) Still, in my opinion, less than one month isn't enough to fully experience "the most wonderful time of the year!" So, I usually hang back, keep my Christmas excitement to myself, maybe do a bit of shopping here and there, start generating ideas for our annual newsletter, plan gatherings, and start my advent meditations as soon as the thought arises!

But this year is a little different. A mere three days after returning from Thanksgiving with my family, we'll be leaving for New Zealand--where summer is just getting underway and adventure awaits! (I won't pretend my love of Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit had nothing to do with choosing this vacation spot. You'll be hearing much about our visits to Hobbiton and Rivendell in the near future. Rest assured.) Since we're spending a good chunk of December far from home, I started getting worried about how this holiday season would pan out.

I have a feeling we'll be too busy taking in all the newness of New Zealand to take enjoy many of our traditional pastimes--carols, cookie baking, Christmas music on the radio, classic holiday films, Christmas parties etc. It makes me a little sad, but the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity seems to outweigh that loss. I think I'll be in travel mode and not stop to think about what I might be missing.

"It's Christmas in New Zealand too, you know!"

Yes, thank you. I'm well aware of that. In fact, I'm giddy at the prospect of being in a different country to see how they celebrate Christmas...as a summer holiday, particularly! I'm excited to meet new people and try our hand at living like kiwis (New Zealanders) for a few weeks--at least, nomadic, campervan-traveling kiwis? *sigh* Fine, like tourists! Regardless, it's going to be a unique experience. And, since winters in WA aren't very magical to begin with, we'll be happy to escape to summer for a little bit. (It's not like we're trading in snow, because that might've been another story. I love snow!)

While we're preparing to pack our warm-weather clothes and planing our trip, I'm also thinking about Christmas. Super Husband has given me permission to decorate the house before we leave for Thanksgiving (I have some cedar boughs from my MIL waiting to be made into a wreath ASAP!). And since my half of the family is out east, we'll be bringing all their Christmas gifts with us too...so I've begun shopping/crafting with gusto! Our Christmas newsletter is drafted, but I'll wait to add snippets of travel stories and maybe a photo or two. We'll keep our event schedule pretty basic this year, but might fit in the Pacific Northwest Ballet's "Nutcracker" after we get back. So overall, we won't be missing that much. I just want to be prepared and later look back on this holiday season without regrets.

I understand (and fully agree with) all the frustrations with "commercialized Christmas," made evident by the way some stores have jumped the gun. I get that not everyone is ready to celebrate just yet. Or that the thought of the holidays brings dread to some people. (Sad, but I know it can be truly tough.) But please, don't roll your eyes at me when you see me getting ready for Christmas early this year--I just want to make sure it's celebrated well, and that I'm preparing in a way that prevents stress and busyness later. After all, it's Jesus' birthday! Jesus come to Earth to rescue us! That's reason enough to celebrate...all the time!

Looking forward to sharing this special time of year with many of you! Give yourself permission to start getting ready for Christmas! It'll be here and gone before you know it. And if you're in my shoes and crossing the date line, you get to "skip" one day and live another day "twice!" (Won't that be bizarre...)

Renaissance Woman or Dilettante?

It's the story of my life--too many interests, too many "favorites," and none of them seem to fit together. Throughout my life, I've "seriously considered" (as serious as a youth can be about these things) living in Australia, China, England, Ireland, New Zealand, Hawaii, Alaska, or Florida. My favorite colors are blue, green, brown, and sometimes purple. In terms of fashion, I don't think my style fits anywhere--"I like what I like" was my eloquent response when my mom tried to suggest what my style might be (now you can see why I didn't get far in my modeling career). My hobbies have included being a musher, fisherwoman, Irish dancer, actor, photographer, archer, artist, and writer...mind boggled yet? Mine too!

When I was about 9 or 10, I remember lying awake one night, feeling torn over all my "favorite" cultures. At the time, I was going through an Asian kick, wondering why on earth we weren't at least a tiny bit Chinese. BUT, I already loved Native American stuff (one thirty-second Blackfoot, baby! I hung on to that!) and was discovering our Irish heritage (it was around the time I began Irish step dancing). Of course, I always loved huskies and dog sledding, so throw a little Eskimo in the mix. Plus, I really loved India as a child, because of my early discovery of elephants and all those beautiful, colorful saris. Oh, and Africa! It has elephants too! See my dilemma? Since then, I've accepted that I'll never be Chinese, Eskimo, Indian, or African. *sigh* But I still jump at chances to learn about or experience them more.

It's the same with music. I dread the question "What kind of music do you like?" I usually have to pick one on the fly, but my music collection is a messy melting pot. On any given day, I may listen to Celtic, Indie, instrumental (movie scores make up a huge part of this), contemporary Christian, world, pop, Christmas, AND Disney music. Seriously, I think I give my MP3 player whiplash. Why do I have to narrow it down? This way, I can pick whatever suits my mood. Need some extra encouragement? Contemporary Christian it is! Feeling bubbly? Disney songs are always a nice pick-me-up or a keep-me-up. Variety is the spice of life!

And forget books! I've devoured books in every genre and can't really tag a favorite. I suppose fantasy literature has the longest track record, but I can't really name any contemporary authors for you...in fact, I'm horrible at remembering author names, book titles, and plots in general...so don't ask me for recommendations, or you'll get what I myself am reading at the time (because I'll have seen the cover enough to retain that info for at least a month). However, I can recall that I did, once upon a time, read that book you mentioned, and possibly remember whether or not I liked it. (This makes me a novelty among my fellow English-degree holders and copy editors.)  It's often about impressions for me--I've loved many stories that seemed to come at opportune times in my life, or that touched me deeply. So, no hard and fast "favorites" in the book category.

See a pattern?

My freshman year of college, I discovered the word dilettante--defined by Webster's as "a person having a superficial interest in an art or a branch of knowledge," synonymous with "dabbler" and "amateur." With horror, I thought I'd found the word to describe me in my countless interests. Only a few months before, my college interviewer had tagged me "a Renaissance woman" for having been involved in so many activities and pursuits. I clung to her description, thinking this was the phrase which accurately described me. And in one fateful vocabulary lesson, this "Renaissance woman" was reduced to an unaccomplished dilettante, never going beyond a superficial knowledge of the things I thought I loved.

I never made it to Open Championship in Irish dance. Mushing never want farther than a few runs on trails through the woods with my two huskies (what happened to that dream of racing in the Iditarod?). I've never competed in an archery competition, much to the chagrin of my instructors who told me I had potential. I quit art lessons after only a few years. I gave up on fishing for awhile after I reached the age limit for "free fishing" (it's hard for a teenager to cough up $30 for a license!). I never pursued a leading role in any stage production. I didn't excel in my photography class in college and I still can't figure out how to use my SLR camera. The only writing I've ever had published was a poem in a local poetry magazine--I don't count that one non-fiction story in our college literary magazine.

Renaissance woman or dilettante?

But the more I think on it, the more I realize those things aren't failures. I can't be perfect at everything. I can't even be perfect at one thing! None of those activities or interests were wasted time. They shaped me and brought me among some interesting people. I still enjoy ALL of those things to some degree--even if it's just the memories! However, sometimes I wish more of my interests fit together--ever tried Irish dancing while firing a bow...from the runners of a dogsled?! So far the arts (writing, photography, art/design) have been the only things that can somewhat touch each subject.

Now I'll reveal what prompted this rant. The other day I stumbled across an article about the potential for Disney to obtain the rights to Tolkien's work, with the intent of incorporating it into a theme park. Being a fan of Disney (fostering imagination, discovery, and child-likeness) AND Tolkien (his epic scope and transcendent themes), I wasn't sure what to think of this. A part of me would love to see what Disney came up with and would enjoy visiting another "incarnation" of Middle Earth. Another part of me is a purist, who's afraid they'll butcher everything I love about Middle Earth or "cheapen" it in some way.

Then the writer pulled up a quote from one of Tolkien's letters, that said he would "veto anything from or influenced by the Disney Studios (for all whose works I have a heartfelt loathing)." My heart sank a little. I don't know why I thought Tolkien, in all his deep, philosophical British-ness, would've approved of the spectacle and seemingly simplistic themes of Disney. I guess I didn't think he would ever comment on it! And that was fine by me! I didn't need his approval. But knowing how much he loathed it felt a little like a direct attack on my sensibilities. Of course Tolkien would've objected to his work becoming a theme park...heck, he probably would've objected to the movies too! (And I really loved those!)

So I think what really struck me was the idea that my favorites could be so opposed to one another. I've always known they're very different--as different as Irish dancing is from mushing! What does my liking them both say about me? Does it mean I'm being manipulated by popular culture? (I don't exactly feel as if Disney was forced down my throat.) Does having such varied interests mean I was any less dedicated to one or the other? Or that I'm a wishy-washy person? Tolkien may have thought so. I probably would've been much too "much" for him. (For the record, I think Disneyland would've catered to hobbits and Elves a like--food, song, storytelling, and some thrills mixed in for any adventure-seeking Took or Baggins. Poor Tolkien never had a chance to experience the potential for himself.)

Thank the Lord I married a man who's just as varied as I am! We laugh about how we're glad no one pulled out the "How Well Do You Know Your Bride/Groom" game at our wedding/shower, because we probably would've failed (not because we don't KNOW each other, but because a lot of those questions seem to dwell on "favorites"). I've asked him several times what his favorite candy or candy bar is...and his answer has been different every time. The only "favorite foods" he knows he can count on for me is Near East rice pilaf (yes, that brand particularly), ice cream, and chocolate. The rest changes almost daily, as I suffer from food cravings and aversions even without being pregnant. Isn't that fun? I think unpredictability can be rather nice sometimes!

And all this has led me to reflect on all the unique, albeit strange, things I've done or continue to enjoy in life. It makes me more me than if I had followed one particular thread. If I'd been a strict Disney fan and read/watched nothing else, I would've never discovered Tolkien or Lewis! If I'd been a professional musher, I'd probably be living in Alaska with my 85 dogs, without having met my husband in a small Pennsylvanian college! If I'd made it to Open Championship in Irish dance...I'd probably have had several knee replacements by now!

As it is, I have all these experiences to draw on. It's why I have a little husky figurine on my desk at work. Why it stands right next to a carved elephant my parents brought back from Africa, which sits under my favorite photo from our last Disney World vacation! I can even pick a purple or brown ball at mini golf when someone else picks blue or green! Blessed variety!

Let's see, what other "favorites" do I have that don't really follow a set pattern?

Pancakes

Balloons

Palm trees

Lilies

Butterflies

Coconut-scented things

Baking
...
...
...

The list goes on..."ever on and on." (Thanks for that, Professor Tolkien.)

Bitter Was Their Parting

"There will be grief felt on both sides," Dad said as I was lamenting their departure. Of course, that was only three days into their visit! If I was feeling that sad about them leaving then, you can imagine how I feel today.

No two visits are the same. Each time, even if we do the same things like visit Pike Place or the Space Needle, new memories are made. "Extreme fishing" in 60 mph winds and the banter of Gladys and Walter (Mrs. B and Dad's alter egos) are among the most memorable moments.

We talk about life here--home improvements, Greg's future at his job, and starting a family someday. Yet even as the words leave my mouth, I find them bitter tasting. I have a feeling that my parents' hearts sink a little with each reference to our living out here for many more years...because mine sinks too. It's why I lie awake at night, wondering what it'd be like to pack up our life here and head east. Even though I know better than to indulge in false hopes, it sounds so easy sometimes.

After my visit "home" last spring, I returned west feeling pretty depressed, even though I shed no tears at our parting (which was a first!). A dear friend encouraged me in an email, saying, "I admire you, Tiffany, for your courage and commitment to [your husband] even though it has meant a separation from your dear family. It's truly beautiful, in the Lady Arwen sense." I smiled sadly when I read this. I hadn't thought of it that way before.

If you know me at all, you know how much I love Tolkien's books. So my friend's reference to Arwen shouldn't have come as a surprise. When I used to read the story of Aragorn and Arwen, how he was smitten from the first moment he saw her, how they pledged their devotion to each other on Cerin Amroth, etc., I saw only romance. Even Arwen's choice to forsake immortality and bind herself to the mortal man she loved seemed the heroic and "easy thing to do"--a typical "forbidden romance," if you will. I dreamed of having a story like theirs and wondered what it'd be like to give up something for love. My thoughts typically strayed toward giving up childhood and leaving the shelter of my parents' care for that of my husband. I couldn't fully understand how much that choice would cost and just how hard it would be.

Then, when my own love story unfolded and I found myself facing similar separation from the places and people I love, I somehow forgot their story. (Well, not forgot. It just didn't come to mind like it would've in the days where I drew parallels between the worlds on a frequent basis.)

What a perfect time to be reminded, when I needed that bolstering of hope and a reminder of how this life and love is so worth it! Tolkien understood the meaning of sacrifice and love. (I won't try to "moralize" his work, but one who has been saved by Grace can't help but recognize themes all around her which point to the One who sacrificed most.) Of Arwen's final farewell to her father, whom she couldn't follow to the Undying Lands once she'd bound herself to a mortal, Tolkien says, "Bitter was their parting that should endure beyond the ends of the world." I read over this passage again after my friend's note. And I thought to myself, "I know this!" I have to re-taste that bitterness each time they or we leave again. I read on about how Aragorn and Arwen's family grows, how she embraces her role as queen of Gondor, and how even at the end of Aragorn's life, when faced with yet another bitter parting...Arwen doesn't break! If only that could be said of me.

That's been my prayer today--that Jesus wouldn't let me break. That He'd keep holding me together, even when it feels like my heart breaks all over again with each goodbye. I've accepted that tears are very often a part of the letting go. And that's okay. All I have to do is tell my Love that the tears are close and he's ready and waiting to comfort me with warm hugs and gentle words. He's getting pretty good at this. I'm so glad to have pledged myself to this man--there is no going back to my "Rivendell," and while there is great sorrow in that, there is even greater joy.

Mom and Dad still have a way of caring for us, forever their children, even when we're living under our own roofs. It was nice to get to return the favor in some small ways, and even then, they couldn't seem to stop blessing us with help and surprises this week. I'm still amazed at how they drop everything to travel this far just to spend some time in their daughter's new "realm." And I'm certainly pleased that they like it and want to keep coming back! :)

Dad was right--there was and will always be a little grief on both sides when we have to part. But unlike Arwen, I don't have to say goodbye for good. (Thank Jesus!) I'm just returning to "my new normal"--as you've so often heard me speak about--until it's time to take an eastward journey again.

Back to School

Today was the first day of school for many areas of the US. I've seen all my teacher friends and friends with kids post pictures on Facebook of all the "first day" pomp and excitement--new outfits, perfect hair, gleaming school supplies, and smiling faces at the prospect of the new year. I find myself sharing in the giddiness, but mainly because this "new year" signals the start of a season that leads to the holidays! Halloween/Harvest, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years...all neatly in a row!

In a way, yesterday was my "first day of school" at my new Irish dance school. Sitting in the parking lot (full of mini vans), waiting to go in, I had some of the same anxious feelings as that first day at a new school. That knot in my stomach about who I'd stand next to, what I'd say, and who my friends would be. It was kind of laughable. How old am I?!

I did much more in this first official class: learning steps, meeting people, and pushing myself more. I ended up sweaty and exhausted, but my muscles feel better than after my trial run two weeks ago. The kids all chatted about their first day of regular school in the morning, and I smiled because I was thinking some of the same things about what this new "class" would hold for me. Hopefully friendships, good health, stronger muscles, and the chance to continue in this dance form I love so much.

The other "20-somethings" were MIA last night, but they told my teacher to apologize to me, and that I'll meet them in the coming weeks. I don't terribly mind being the minority age-wise--after all, I was the oldest in both of my archery classes and several acting auditions, and the youngest by far in my Zumba class (it was a Friday morning session, so it wasn't so surprising)! I've just come to expect the age gap with all the new things I attempt to learn and try out. :) But, I am happy there will be others this time, who may be easier to relate to. Talk of cheer camp and homework can only go so far. I'm happy to be 25, let me tell you! Sure, there's "drama" and hormonal/emotional roller coasters in life as an adult, but of a different type. I love coming home to my husband after class, folding laundry, and enjoying a late-night snack on the couch with him before bed. It's a good life!

My dance teachers, a married couple, are quick to praise. I'm noticing that in their teaching style in general. They're encouraging and point out errors graciously. You can tell they truly love this--that it's not so much of a business as a place for them to be creative with dance and watch their work come to life through us dancers. (And, I'll admit, I'm pretty thrilled to be taught by some retired Lord of the Dance and Trinity dancers!) Even this morning, I found an email telling me I did great. I was tickled pink at this gesture after my first visit, and now I just shake my head in wonder. Do they mean it? Or are they trying to "wine and dine" me to keep me around? I'm leaning toward the former, from what I know of them and their personalities so far. It was nice to be encouraged, especially when I feel so out of shape and limited in what my body can handle. I know it will get better, and I loved falling asleep while running steps in my head, feet tensing and kicking at the sheets subconsciously, like they used to. 

It's good to be back. (Now when did I ever say that of regular school?!)

Summer Summary

Last month alone, we went hiking, biking, camping, fishing, barbecuing, swimming, and picnicking. Pretty much all the quintessential summer activities. Oh, and squeeze in trips to the west-coast family cabin, a drive-in movie, berry picking, yard work, soccer playing, and archery (for the first time in a few years!). 

It's been a full summer!

For all of that, I'm not quite ready for it to be over. Thank goodness we still have about a month and a half of good weather left! Our upcoming adventures include (but are not limited to) backpacking in the Olympics again and a camping/rafting weekend. To top it all off, my parents and two family friends are coming to visit at the end of September! Glad to have that visit to look forward to, and maybe the transition to "rainy season" won't be that bad after all!

In my last post I alluded to our bike rides. This is a "new" activity to me, since I haven't had a bike of my own since moving here. Super Husband found me an awesome pre-owned "hybrid" bike (flat handlebars of a mountain bike with thin tires of a road bike), so I could have an easier time keeping up with his uber-fast road bike. There are lots of beautiful trails around this area. My favorite so far has been the Burke-Gilman trail around Lake Washington. Super Husband is a great encourager, and I find the words of affirmation just as sweet as the treats we give ourselves after a long ride--mainly ice cream and chocolate, but any sugary item will do. I'm looking forward to riding more and dread the rainy weather when we can't count on good biking conditions.

The second renewed activity is, of course, archery! My poor re-curve bow and mismatched quiver-full of arrows has sat neglected in my closet for about 3 or 4 years. When we were searching for a house, I thought for sure we'd have a lawn where I could practice. It took only a few home viewings to realize I will find no such yard in this neck of the woods--it certainly doesn't merit the term "woods" at all! I resigned myself to this fact and instead drooled over "Hunger Games," Disney's "Brave," "Robin Hood," and of course "The Lord of the Rings trilogy" for my archery fix.

A month or so ago, a friend asked to borrow some arrows for a photo shoot at work (at right). As I pulled out my gear, I realized this was something I had to pursue again, somehow. I started dreaming up ways I could shoot safely in our little yard, in a manner that wouldn't alarm the neighbors or passers-by. When no good ideas were forthcoming, I turned to that marvelous resource--parents! My in-laws reminded me that there's plenty of room to shoot at the family cabin down in Shelton. So this past trip, I bought a target to keep there. Ironically, it was the same exact target I bought in New Hampshire about 6+ years ago! (Confession: It was from Wal-Mart, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised.) It made the cabin feel even more like home!

No pictures to prove it, but I think some of my form is still there! Super Husband and BIL (brother-in-law) shot too and did really well. It felt so good to hold the bow again, no matter how shaky my arms were. (Super Husband calls my "guns" "potato canons" for a reason. Good thing archery is only 20% arm and 80% back muscles.) I can't wait to get back to the cabin to shoot more! And it's only whetted my appetite to find a range closer to home.

For a truly new activity, Super Husband and I have been learning how to fly fish! We got these incredible rods from the aforementioned "visitors coming at the end of September" (thanks, guys!) last Christmas and couldn't wait to try them. Our first tries were in the front lawn of my childhood home, under the tutelage of my uncle, who's a pro! Dad (my original fishing buddy) took us to a few dams and ponds to practice. I quickly fell in love with this unique form of fishing. It's a lot more technical than I'm used to, but I'm up for the challenge!

Super Husband and I went to my favorite river in all of New England to try our luck. He managed to catch one trout on his fly rod, but it was too tiny to keep. Quick shout-out to Super Husband: He stuck with it and kept trying the difficult fly-fishing cast from the brush-lined riverbanks, while his wimpy wife traded in her fly rod for a normal pole and worm. Keep that in mind--he ain't no quitter! That said, I caught perhaps the biggest trout of my life that day...but with my old pole and a juicy worm I'd dug up from our "worm farm" back at the Camp. So I don't think it's quite the victory I was looking for. But I still had a blast! Super Husband has gone fishing with a coworker since returning to WA, and I'm hopeful I'll get the hang of it enough to start reeling in some big 'uns on my fly rod.

That's our summer in a nutshell. I love, love, LOVE summer in Washington! It's what makes the other nine months of the year bearable. What's your favorite summer activity? What new things have you tried?

Dang it, Craig!

I know I have a lot of catching up to do. I promise to post about meeting my nephew and this summer's adventures. But for now, I need to talk about something that may make you laugh, cringe, and/or shake your head in wonderment over our stupidity.

That's right. I want to talk about the joys of adulthood--particularly that wonderful, stomach-dropping moment when you realize (like Gob in "Arrested Development") that "I've made a huge mistake" and all responsibility rests on you and you alone. Okay, so it's not that bad. Let me start from the beginning.

For the past few months of Super Husband's "freedom" from studying, we've been getting serious about putting the finishing touches on our house. This has included yard work, reorganizing closets, and extensive Craigslisting. That last one has been the source of the most grief. Super Husband spends almost an hour a day browsing the listings and making offers on the furniture we've been waiting on. Somehow, we managed to buy ourselves a new vacuum in the process, but that's beside the point.

The point is, for all the work and consideration we put into the searching, we have very little to show for it...until yesterday. Late on Monday night, Super Husband says he's found a buffet! It's small, it looks light, and it's real wood so we can refinish the light pine with a stain that matches our dining room! "It even has a lip around the back and sides to keep dishes from falling off!" Great! I took a brief glance at it, thought the price was reasonable (given what we'd seen so far) and liked that it was in the same town where Super Husband works!

Begin phase 2: We make an offer, seller accepts said offer, and Super Husband plans and executes a lunch break run to pick it up! So far so good. When I come home from work, I open the garage excitedly to find...a baby-changing table!

Wait. Is there something he's trying to tell me? Am I pregnant? (No, for the record. No.) I kind of chuckled at first and took a closer look. Yes, it's a baby-changing table. Complete with drawers and a divider for holding diapers. When Super Husband comes home, I make a joke about it and his face drops. He'd paid extra to have it delivered, and upon loading the guy's truck he realized how heavy it was. He said he was having second thoughts at that point, and when the seller added "it makes a great baby dresser too" he was confused, since they claimed to have used it as a buffet table. Not wanting to back out then, he went through with it.

Laughter aside, we stood in our garage, staring at the large, glossy, pine baby-changing table. We'd paid way to much for it. We found out we can't refinish it because, although the drawers and front are solid pine, the sides are veneer. So, we're going to have to try to sell it again. (No Baby Mottet on the way in the near future, and I can't justify hanging onto it until then!) But I have a feeling we're going to have to cut our losses. It's work to post things, wait for offers, and coordinate pick ups. We'll probably lose money, not to mention sleep, over this thing. Dang it, Craig and your stupid list!

This "too-bad-you've-been-bamboozled" moment will pass and I'm sure we'll laugh about it someday. It's just one of many home-owner/newlywed mistakes I'm sure we'll make in our lifetime. That said...I still wish it hadn't happened.

Soooo...Expecting a baby? Have a little one already? Need a nice piece of furniture on which to change him or her? Call me.

#3 Witness a Miracle

I won't pretend I didn't steal this one from A Walk to Remember. Yes, I recalled the movie/book when I was putting together my 100 list, and I added "Witness a Miracle" because I knew I wanted to witness not just a romanticized, Nicholas Sparks version of a miracle ("You're my angel," and life is full of tiny miracles) but a mind-blowing, New Testament kind of miracle. The kind that makes you stop in awe and recognize the power of God. I've already seen many of those--the changed life of an ex-con, complete healing of my Grandmother's cancer, the forgiveness of my own sin, just to name a few--but I found myself still longing for MORE! More of God's power at work in the world, in my life and in the lives of those around me, and in His church.

I added this to my 100 list so I'd be on the lookout. I realized I'm not the sort of believer who struggles with "Can God do this?" so much as with asking Him to do more, and to allow me to see it happen! Rather than just holding on to that longing deep within my heart, to witness miracles and even perhaps to do them for Jesus' glory, I'm working on expressing that longing to Him. Someone recently confirmed that they recognized that desire in me and felt the Holy Spirit was going to show me and work through me. It's encouraged me to keep that willingness to be used and to keep asking for more.

That said, I don't think this is the only #3 I'll be sharing with you as the years go by. But it's pretty exciting to me! About two months ago, our lead pastor shared a vision with us, one that has been confirmed by many, that Jesus wanted us to purchase the building the church has been renting and completely rebuild it. Not because "new is nice" and certainly not because church is about the building, but because we're growing! But it can't and won't continue if we remain where we are. There's not enough space for us all to come, worship, and learn together. And the current setup isn't very welcoming to new people. Bottom line: Jesus wants more people for His Church. He says build a new building; we'll build a new building.

Did I mention the price tag? About 10 million dollars to purchase the building and construct a new one in the lot. We needed 6 million of that just to keep moving forward. Now, we're not a mega-church. We're about 500, mostly made up of college students and young professionals who don't make huge salaries. Where was that 6 million going to come from? I smile to think of the way my heart instantly seemed to respond, "God will provide the ram." (Check out Genesis 22 if you don't get it.) My heart may have sprung up with that faith at the first, but that "ram" still required a lot of fervent prayer and faith on the part of the church. We prayed and fasted, knowing the kind of sacrifice it would mean, what God might ask us to give. We didn't hold a "fundraiser" or do a big advertising campaign--just a few, brief reminders on Sunday mornings that we'd take up an offering in a month. That's it...one month.

March 5th rolled around. The tithes and offerings baskets were passed, just like any other Sunday. When everything was counted...

...there was just over 6 million dollars.

It's a miracle! God provided for His church. I like to think I never doubted it would happen, but then I wonder how I would've responded if it hadn't. Would I still have continued with faith, knowing God would provide whatever was necessary to do what He has asked? Or would I have just shrugged and said to myself, "Miracles like that just don't happen anymore, not like in Biblical times." I tend to think it would've been the latter. That's been my response far too often when things don't turn out how I hoped. So I'm shaking off that attitude--Lord knows this miracle has certainly bolstered my faith and given me encouragement to keep asking for more--and getting excited for even more miracles on the way!

100 List Fanfare

I promised you a "revamp" in the new year, didn't I? Well, this is it...sort of. I imagined a total blog make-over, but in the end, all I really wanted to add was my 100 list. I was inspired by friends whose own blogs include this list of dreams/goals--a "bucket list" of sorts, but not because I feel my life would lack meaning without attempting the "extraordinary." Quite the opposite! My life was given all the meaning it needs when Jesus saved me. These things are just adventures I'd love to have in addition to the grand adventure I've already been set upon. They're the sorts of things I'd love to see happen and then look back at this list and say, "How cool is that? I dreamed this long before it was reality!" Or maybe this list will provide a bit of inspiration when I'm given the opportunity to choose an adventure. Either way, it's full of fancies mixed with a few heart desires (the obvious ones being "having a baby" and "publishing a novel," I think). I'll try to post about the journey and the achievement/fulfillment of those dreams as they happen, if ever. Go ahead and click on the tab at the top of the page to take a look!

This blog will still be called "The Squirrel and Student Society," because the terms, remarkably, lend themselves well to the 100 list. Here are some definitions from Merriam-Webster.com:

Squirrel: to store up for future use —often used with away <squirrel away some money>

Squirrelly: nutty, curious

Student: scholar, learner, one who studies; an attentive and systematic observer <a student of politics>

Society: companionship or association with one's fellows : company

I'll admit that I'm a little "squirrelly" to begin with, and this blog is a place where I "squirrel away" moments, thoughts, and experiences (personally, I'm working on collecting moments more than things...but I've always been a collector of sorts). I don't know if I can classify myself as a "systematic observer" but I definitely have an unquenchable thirst for learning. Finally, this place is indeed a society where I hope we can enjoy companionship and continue "association."

So there you have it! The not-really-new-or-improved Squirrel and Student Society. If there's anything on my list you have advice for or a lead on--perhaps you know someone who teaches Indian folk dance in the Seattle area, or you have some frequent flier miles (or first-class upgrade) you'd like to be rid of? *wink*--please let me know. That's the thing about this society--comments and thoughts are always welcome.

Home Between the Raindrops

Today is our wedding anniversary. While year one was very much defined by becoming (a wife, a member of a new church, a long-distance daughter, a daughter-in-law, a Washingtonian), year two seemed to be about belonging. On our anniversary last year, we talked a lot about our new life together--how we'd settled into it, what's ahead, etc. Super Husband said he really wanted to make this place feel like HOME for me. And through our adventures, both in our "new" house (1 year since we became homeowners!) and away, I'm definitely at home now.

I fell in love with this song when I first heard it on the Olympics last summer. Strangely ironic given the type of year it's been. There's no one else I'd rather "roll down this unfamiliar road" with!

Two years. How'd that happen? Well, there's 24 hours in a day...plus or minus a few when you fly across a few time zones...and 7 days a week...and 52 weeks in a year! Fine, I'll leave the math to Super Husband and get back on topic.

Within the last year, I've learned to delight in a life shared. I love life with my husband more than words can say! Yes, even when I'm grumpy, even when we argue, and even when things feel chaotic. And I love sharing life with the friends and family I have out here on the West Coast, as well as those on the East Coast and everywhere in between! It looks different for every one of them--Super Husband and I share life 24/7, friends and family about 9/7, and all the rest only about 168/8765 or less (that's about a week out of a year, just so you know). No matter how much or how little time I get to spend with each of them, it's a delightful thing.

Now I'm home. waiting for Super Husband to come home from work so we can try that cute little Thai place down the street. That's another thing I've really learned to enjoy this past year: getting to share the little things in life with someone. I felt like I spent the first year of marriage analyzing marriage--what it means, what a godly marriage looks like, how we were doing as a married couple--which is all good, but it sometimes crowded out the sheer wonder of it all! I love having someone to go grocery shopping with, someone to "talk it out" with when my emotions mess with my mind, someone to sit up late with when I can't sleep. It's mind boggling.

On the plane from Boston to Seattle a few weeks ago, I plugged in my headphones to the in-flight radio. It was the first time I heard this song (below), and I smiled in spite of my pain at leaving New England. I smiled because A) walking between raindrops is pretty common in Washington state, B) we were on our way "off into the sunset" with a lot of unknowns before us, C) it reminded me how grateful I was to have my love beside me on that plane. I didn't have to fly back alone and I'm not alone here in my new home. I love walking between the raindrops with him, and no matter how many rainy days come, I'd never want to be anything but his bride. With a prayer and a hope that God's Grace goes with us, we're heading into year three.

Let's Start the New Year Right

This Christmas, I rediscovered the song "Let's Start the New Year Right" by Bing Crosby. I've sort of had a crush on Bing ever since "White Christmas," which I was very lucky to have seen for the first time at the age of two and continue to watch annually. Then I discovered "Holiday Inn," "Bells of St. Mary's," and a bunch of Bing's other music. (Don't worry: Super Husband isn't threatened in the slightest.) Come on, how can you not like a guy with the voice of an angel, blue eyes, and a silly name like "Bing"?! Plus, his music always reminded me of an era I didn't personally experience, but was familiar for my grandparents (and parents, somewhat). Anyway, "Let's Start the New Year Right" (although not the "official Christmas song of 2012"--see last year's post--which was "I'll Be Home for Christmas" obviously) seemed to fit our holiday season pretty well. (You can read the lyrics here, but be sure to take a listen at the bottom of the post.)

One minute to midnight
One minute to go
One minute to say good-bye
Before we say hello

Let's start the new year right
Twelve o'clock tonight
When they dim the light
Let's begin

Kissing the old year out
Kissing the new year in

Let's watch the old year die
With a fond good-bye
And our hopes as high
As a kite

How can our love go wrong if
We start the new year right?

I think we did start the new year right, even though it was far from perfect. On the plane home, after a tremendous visit to New Hampshire for Christmas and New Year's, I thought about what my "post-holiday blog post" should say. Over the course of the week and a half away, I thought about writing about familiar things, settling into life with my family again, being an aunty for the first time (bound to be a blog post eventually), memories of a loved one lost, and the goals I have laid out before me. I could write pages and pages about each of them, but I realized that the all encompassing theme should be about looking forward rather than always behind.

I heard an analogy recently of a windshield and a rear-view mirror. The windshield is much bigger than the mirror, because we ought to be looking forward while we drive, not behind. While this analogy was used to describe forgetting the mistakes, sins, and hurts from the past (from which we've been forgiven and healed from, or are starting to heal from), I almost saw it as a challenge not to glance back on what has been as often.

I'm a sucker for memories, and I love to recall and relive the fun times of the past with my family and friends. But, and I'm pretty sure I've mentioned this before, sometimes that brings me down. Things can't ever be the same. And as much as I enjoy reuniting with old friends and sharing memories, sometimes that only makes me sad and depressed because we can never go back. I struggle with this when I'm away from New England, and just as much when I'm there visiting. Still, I like the idea of the rear-view mirror, because it shows that it's okay to glance back from time to time (at least in this example)...not in longing for where we've been or what we've seen, but in remembrance of what God has done.

We had a shocking glance in the rear-view mirror on New Year's Day at 2am. My mother-in-law called to tell us that her mom passed away unexpectedly. She was seemingly healthy and we looked forward to many more years of her friendship, guidance, and love. Personally, there was so much I still wanted to talk to her about, to get to know her more than our four brief visits allowed--my husband's graduation (back when I was still his "new girlfriend"), a visit to her vacation home in Florida, my sister-in-law's wedding, and then our wedding. There wasn't enough time! But in the grieving that followed, I got to learn more about Grandma and her Christian legacy--one that Super Husband and I are blessed to be a part of! God has done GREAT THINGS through the life of Grandma. And as much as I long to have her here with us, I can rejoice in what's ahead: a great reunion in Heaven, where I know she's with Jesus and my husband's Grandpa, whom I never had the pleasure of meeting in this life.

I'm grateful for the week we had leading up to the news of our loss. There were family parties, games, sit-down dinners, snowball fights, snowman building, and more. It was a Christmas and New Year's Eve to remember! I'm so thankful for all of it...and feel kind of selfish for feeling hungry for more. We got so comfortable being together again--all 6 of us (my parents, us, my sister, and bro-in-law) living under the same roof. I'm anxiously looking forward to our next meeting. For now, it's good to be home.

Better late than never, I wish you all MERRY CHRISTMAS (it truly was) and HAPPY NEW YEAR (it truly will be, Lord willing).