Peace is Upstream

Currents (AKA Maryann inspires me every month)

2012-02-07T18:42:00.000-08:00

Current TV Show: The West Wing. We are halfwaythrough season 3, and let me tellyou, I have never felt so friggin' patriotic. I LOVE PRESIDENT BARTLET. Also, did anyone watch that NBC special a few years ago on the inner workings of the White House? It was a little like The West Wing,and I wish they would do another special because I just remember the part where Obama shows up at Five Guys and everyone just set aside politics and agreed that those burgers are phenomenal. I also loved how much that Axelrod guy was really hardcore, and now I see that he is just like the fictional character Leo McGarry, whom I adore.

Current Food: Let me tell you now: there are a lot of reasons that becoming a parent is miraculous and wonderful, but in the top tier is the FOOD. Nothing makes a girl feel more cared for and supported than a fridge full of coq au vin and Ben and Jerry's Schweddy Balls. And the fridge is full up of Schweddy Balls.

Current Movie: Last to the Crazy, Stupid, Love. party and I don't even care. It was darling and cemented (recemented?) my love for Steve Carell.

Current Wishlist: A lactation consultant who appears during midnight nursing crises.

Current Music: Over the Rhine, over and over and over (see: midnight nursing crises).

Current Book: I can't really read since I need both hands while I'm nursing, and literally the nursing happens 10 hours a day. But have I mentioned The West Wing? I'm also thinking lots about Operating Instructions, which is Anne Lamott's phenomenal story of motherhood and winging the first year of her son's life. I can relate...ohsomuch. Minus the single parent/addiction/cancer parts.

And thanks to Maryann, I'm going to let you take a detour down the road of Anne Lamott-love, from Traveling Mercies:

"... I remembered another woman at our church, very old, from the South, tiny and black, who dressed in these ersatz Coco Chanel outfits, polyester sweater sets, dacron pill-box hats...She was always cheerful until she turned 80 and started going blind. She had a great deal of religious faith and everyone assumed that she would adjust and find meaning in her loss, meaning and acceptance and then joy; and we all wanted this because, let's face it, it's so inspiring and such a relief when people bear up to the unbearable. When you can box things up nicely and see that a tiny miracle took place and that love once again turned out to be bigger than fear and death and blindness. But this woman would have none of it. She went into a deep depression, and eventually left the church. People kept taking communion to her, but she wouldn't be in our community anymore. It must have been too annoying for everyone to be secretly trying to manipulate her into being a better sport about being blind than she was capable of being. I always thought that was heroic of her, that it spoke of such integrity to refuse to pretend that you're doing well just to help other people deal with the reality of impossible loss."

Current Worry: That my sweet little baby will inherit my family's big fat history of mental illness, and that I'll be holding my breath for the rest of his life. Working on shelving this, because let's be real, stressing about going crazy will make a mama crazy.

Current Indulgence: Eating like a horse. Like my friend Lindsey says, "Eat a cupcake, LOSE A POUND! Eat another cupcake, LOSE TWO POUNDS!" Breastfeeding's upside (besides the mystical bond thing) is calorie burning.

Current Obsession:

Welcome.

2012-01-12T17:07:00.001-08:00

It felt like he would never get here. Come on already, we told him. For days and days and days we tried to talk him into making his debut, and he waited and waited and waited. Christmas came and went. Then New Year's Eve and New Year's Day. And we heard every joke about missing the tax refund and the prize for being born at 12:01am. And then we waited some more.

But he was ready right on time, it turns out. We came to the hospital at midnight, thinking it was the Real Thing. They sent us home again. Three hours later we were back, and I was 8cm dilated and out he came, three hours after that. I tried some morphine but it didn't matter, and then we were whooshing along so fast the epidural didn't happen either. He came in a blaze of glory at 6:18am on his due date. So punctual, he's already teaching me something.

Our days have been full of gurgles and burps, squirting (just...squirting), tears and belly laughs, a few meltdowns, and so much good food. Grandma came for the first five days and gave us the gift of experience and cheerleading. Friends have visited almost every day with so much enthusiasm we're inspired to face another sleepless night with bright eyes. Nurses and doctors reassure us that this kid is healthy and on his way to being a very fabulous human.

We think they are right.

In case you were about to ask...

2011-12-12T21:46:00.000-08:00

Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?
Yes. It's a boy.

Is your husband taking time off work?
Yes. It's the year 2011 and it's called egalitarianism (and being lucky enough to have jobs that give us time off, granted). We're working on it.

Are you nesting?
'Tis my middle name.

Will you go back to work?
Will I win the lottery in the next three months?

Are you swollen/sleeping poorly/uncomfortable?
(Silence.)

Can you believe you're about to be parents?
Hardly. Can't hardly wait. Can't even begin to tell you how much I can hardly wait.

Getting a grip

2011-11-04T09:20:00.000-07:00

Wednesday was a bad day. The only way I can say it here is... WEDNESDAY WAS A BAD DAY AT WORK. We rushed home in ridiculous traffic to meet the dryer repair guy, who made it to our house before we did. Whoops.

Since I spent the entire car ride home complaining about my HORRIBLE DAY, I walked in the front door and began my other form of decompressing: cooking dinner. I started putzing and chopping onion, whirred up some rosemary bread crumbs in my handy food processor, generally got my inner Ina flowing. Mmm. Meanwhile Dustin started to chat with the repair guy about soccer and this famous player from Repair Guy's home country, Ivory Coast. And that's when I perked up. Have you heard of Didier Drogba?

From Wikipedia...

Drogba is credited with playing a vital role in bringing peace to his country. After Côte d'Ivoire qualified for the 2006 World Cup, Drogba made a desperate plea to the combatants, asking them to lay down their arms, a plea which was answered with a cease fire after five years of civil war. Drogba later helped move an African Cup of Nations qualifier to the rebel stronghold of Bouake; a move that helped confirm the peace process. In September 2011, Drogba joined the Truth, Reconciliation and Dialogue Commission as a representative to help return peace to his home nation. His involvement in the peace process lead to Drogba being named as one of the world's 100 most influential people by Time magazine for 2010.^{I'm sorry, but I generally don't buy the athletes as heroes spiel. But this soccer player literally SAVED LIVES. And he's one of the reasons that I believe in soccer as a global institution. It has value beyond basic entertainment. It's unifying on a level no other sport is. Sorry, hockey fans. Sorry.

Anyway, we chatted about Didier, and then Repair Guy, whose name we learned is Konate, started asking me about Rachael Ray. Hello Konate, let's be best friends. You have built a legitimate business as an immigrant, you speak six languages (French, English, Arabic and three tribal dialects), you like Didier Drogba, AND you want to talk to me about the Food Network?

Konate stayed for two hours, much longer than it took to fix our dryer, telling us all about his tribal initiation into manhood at 13 (running through the jungle while the older men make fake hyena calls trying to scare you), marrying his wife (who was chosen for him by his uncle), and raising his three kids in the United States (he believes that his kids owe their whole futures to their teachers, so they better not screw around in class).

Then he shook our hands, congratulated us on this upcoming baby, and dashed down our driveway into the pouring rain. I looked at Dustin and giggled, and I realized my world is still cracking open wider than my bad days.}

Wordle of the Month

2011-10-02T17:10:00.000-07:00

What Happens When You Don't Work on Fridays

2011-09-30T20:19:00.001-07:00

Me: If you come early, you'll see our messy house.
Guy from Heating Company who had an appointment: I'll let you know how messy it compares.

Surveyor who wanders into yard from Energy Company: You have a gas line here, ma'am.
Me: No, I don't. We would have heard about that in our housing inspection a year ago. And, you know, paid a bill or something.

Me: Hi, I'm calling because your Surveyor tells me we have a gas line, only it's unmarked and it doesn't exist according to the city's big fancy map. And she says that's a problem because that means nobody ever checks on it, and it could explode like that house did last week.
Customer Service Person from Energy Company: Well, ma'am, I AM SO GLAD YOU CALLED. We will send a serviceman out.

Me: Hey, you guys are making me nervous, just standing out here in your hard hats and neon vests.
Five Men from Energy Company suddenly in my driveway: No worries, ma'am. We were just in the area and decided to check out this gas line.

...two hours later, back at my front door...

Five Men from Energy Company: Ma'am, we're not equipped to do the work that needs to be done underneath your house, but we have a specialist who will be able to remove this illegal equipment from your crawlspace. We are SO GLAD YOU CALLED.

Maryann's Inspired this Fun List

2011-09-28T19:50:00.001-07:00

Current music: NPR. How sad it that? I have completely given up listening to anything current, and somehow there's just enough noise during my day that I'm craving silence at night. And now that my life's greatest work is complete by making it on air, NPR has my full affection. I'm so boring but I can't help myself.

Current wishlist: Sleep. A solid night of it without strange body parts falling asleep. For example, top of scalp, one butt cheek at a time, heel of foot, elbow. Don't tell me how sleep deprived I'll be later. I GET IT. It's not like I can stockpile it, so bug off. I also wish that people would stop telling me their episiotomy stories. ENOUGH.

Current food: Blueberry pancakes from The Silver Palate with Orange Butter (plus lots of agave nectar since we were out of honey). Baked goods from scratch--booyah! I am a kitchen wonder.

Current TV show: Felicity on Netflix, because our computer is now officially too slow to watch Hulu, which rules out Parenthood, Glee and Top Chef. What a shame. Or is it? Now I can stare at Ben Covington and covet Keri Russell's hair and cheekbones and everything on demand.

Current location: Spare bedroom turning into baby's room. We fold laundry there, pile up the hand-me-downs, sit and stare at the crib mattress that is currently cribless. It's a nice place to be gobsmacked about our impending future.

Current book: The Bean Trees by Barbara Kingsolver just knocked me off my feet. It reminds me of that book from childhood called Walk Two Moons. Stories about brave young women never get old. Now I'm on to The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, and I am stunned that Rebecca Skloot just made up her mind to be a science writer, nevermind the story, albeit fascinating. The woman literally studied science and THEN got her MFA in Creative Nonfiction. Seriously? You can do that and then find tremendous success? What the hell. Write a book about that, lady.

Current indulgence: Drinking London Fogs early and often. I also love being able to order Shirley Temples in a bar without feeling sheepish and/or cheap. I like the cherry syrup, damnit, and this baby bump has given me full license to drink that concoction with reckless abandon.

Current worry: That my reckless abandon will lead me to fail my test for gestational diabetes in two weeks. Also that I will not be able to figure out my vocational future in a way that will complement motherhood. Seriously. We need to 1) pay our bills, 2) be parents who love our kid abundantly, 3) not let our lives be defined exclusively by parenthood, 4) not be afraid to embrace parenthood just because we are paranoid about losing ourselves.

Current project: Researching graphic design classes and reading my new book for wannabe designers. Forwarding my Photoshop and InDesign skills on posters that end in ugliness, 98% of the time. Craving design success.

Current movie: Father of the Bride, Part II

I'm basically the new NPR correspondent

2011-09-06T20:41:00.000-07:00

Today I achieved a lifetime goal. Whilst gobbling down my Happy Meal and Diet Coke in the privacy of my car (sounds like the beginning of an episode of Intervention), I listened to Ross Reynolds on The Conversation as he invited listeners to share stories of their most beloved teachers.

So I called! And the screener person liked me story, so they put me on! And I told Ross all about my first grade teacher Mrs. Kloster, and I told him how her creativity has sparked all kinds of appreciation for creativity for me in the 20 years since I walked in her door.

Then I told the listeners that we panned for gold in the pool at Camp Side-by-Side this summer, which we actually did NOT do, since we decided that would be a major safety hazard. But we had talked about it and I was under major pressure to be clever on live radio. IT WAS LIVE, folks. But it sounded so great on the air. At least that's what my mom said.

http://kuow.org/program.php?id=24470

In Praise of Hush Puppies

2011-08-27T10:22:00.000-07:00

Everyone I know is talking about The Help. The book, the movie, what you loved about them, whether they are a fair account of the way things were, on and ON. I read the book in three days and won't go another weekend without seeing the film.

But what I can't stop thinking about is how much that story aligns with my own family history. We never lived in the South, but my dad was raised in Mississippi in the 1960s: you do the math. It's fascinating to hear people talk about the movie and the book as if they were alien tales, because they really aren't. You want to know the Skeeters and the Hillys? You head to my dad's front porch in Red Banks and it will come to life. Ten minutes there and you will learn about the African American staff that raised up and supported the Harris family--Mama Lillian, Toad Frog, Doodle and Chubby. Toad Frog might even stop by. No kidding.

So as I untangle what it means to be part of this very complicated and...complicated...piece of American history (one that extends much farther back than the 1960s), I'm really enjoying the element of at least *knowing* my history. Very few people can trace their family roots the way I'm able to--back to Reverend William Harris of Bedford, Virginia, born in 1780. This website has all the juicy details from then until now, including some fascinating information on Harris soldiers in the Confederate army. Wowza.

Emotional Eating: Not Just for Rainy Days!

2011-08-18T12:54:00.001-07:00

My Grandpa John is 92, and he's not feeling so hot this week. Since I'm here on the west coast with nothing to do but call my mom to check in, I decided to eat sweet corn in celebration of my favorite Nebraska farmer.

I was hoping to make a chilled corn soup, but since I *still* don't have a fine-meshed sieve (first world problem!), I bagged that and went for sauteed instant gratification.

Grandpa John's Creamy Sweet Corn

6 ears sweet corn, cut from cob

2 Tbs. butter

1 spoonful low-fat cream cheese

1 glug skim milk

cilantro

paprika (smoked if you've got it)

sea salt and cracked pepper

Heat up a skillet, melt half the butter and throw in your corn until it's turning a happy sunshine color. I could eat sweet corn raw, so I don't cook it more than about four minutes. Add the S&P, paprika, and cilantro. Then toss in the cream cheese, help it get melty in the pan, turn down your heat and finish with the butter and milk. Add more S&P if you like.

What I'd be saying on Facebook...

2011-08-17T17:46:00.001-07:00

1. I think The Help is about to land itself on Stuff White People Like.

2. Heartburn is like having little gremlins climb up your esophagus and yell, "BITE ME, you sonuva gun!" And I just whimper in reply.

3. The week after Camp Side-by-Side is also the week when I remember everything else that's still happening in the world: riots, bills to be paid, flower beds to stare at helplessly.

4. It's a hard to take care of oneself around people who don't know how to do that for themselves. Or who do it so differently than I do.

5. I miss Oprah.

6. Grocery shopping at Target is literally the opposite of watching Food, Inc.

7. Chicken: You are so disgusting when you are raw, and sometimes when you are not raw.

8. Marital satisfaction rises when all parties are doing their chores.

9. Most pregnancy trends have turned out not to be true.

10. I'm hoping most parenting trends will turn out to be unimportant: I'm not paying much attention to them because it's too easy to get freaked out.

11. I still love making new friends.

12. We are having a BOY!!!

Like asking her to swallow the sun

2011-08-04T07:36:00.000-07:00

I'm trying to form a new habit these days, and part of the new habit is breaking the old habit--spending too much time on Facebook. Ugh. Anyway the point is that I want to redirect some of those gossipy pitstops to more interesting and authentic ones. So far I'm reading EVERY article in the paper and wondering how many cute baby picture posts I'm missing.

But this morning I woke up to read a blurb by a local food-writing hero, Molly Wizenberg, and she pointed me in the direction of a TED talk by Elizabeth Gilbert. I admit that I'd heard of TED and knew that all important techy, savvy people liked it, but until two weeks ago when my friend Lacey practically DEMANDED (on Facebook, oh sweet irony!) that we pay more attention, I hadn't even been to the website. I'll go ahead and embed Ms. Gilbert's talk because you know I love to embed videos, but more importantly, I just have to say out loud: I'm so glad to know other creative people get stuck too. And I'm so glad creative people can look at each other and say, We got to stick together. Because the injustice of creative people literally losing their minds? No thanks.

I might be giving myself too much credit here, I don't have an Eat, Pray, Love under my belt, but I do understand the shitty state of depression, so I resonated in about 1,000 ways with the way she describes that tipping point in a creative process where you think you have NO talent and NO potential and, as my mom would say, you're going to end up in the GUTTER. And then the other side of the mountain is where God's spirit (that's how I see it, at least) bubbles up through you and all that magic and creativity gushes on through. That's quite a tightrope.

This is all pretty woo-woo. But you know what? Without the woo, we'd all be engineers.

Another video. I know, I know...

2011-07-12T19:49:00.000-07:00

But this one makes me proud to be an American, a girl who has grown up into a woman, and a Katy Perry fan. These women are elegant and strong and such an incredible picture of what it means to stick together. So you should soak up these gorg photos for all eight minutes.

PS- I *am* proud to be an American. And I get pretty annoyed when people act like that's the equivalent of being an ignorant xenophobe. I just think we have a lot to be thankful for, and I'm proud of a LOT of who we are. So deal, y'all.

PPS- Dustin played soccer with a guy who tried to ask out one of these players at a bar in Portland a few months ago. And then Abby Wambach came over (double fisting her beers like a badass), and said, "THAT IS MY GIRLFRIEND." Hehe.

PPPS- Hope Solo (the keeper) played at UW, and her coach was in Dresden to watch this game. Also, my boss's son plays on the U-21 Men's team and I won't be surprised if he's in the World Cup again. Baller. (Get it? Literally a baller.)

PPPPS- I miss writing letters where I did this PS thing in such an out of control way. Who needs to structure their thoughts when we have PS? And PPS?

I'm getting worse at returning phone calls

2011-07-11T22:16:00.001-07:00

And folks, that is saying a lot. Because I can't get much worse. But in my defense, the alluring halo of Google+ and other social networks options (ad nauseum) are making it hard to keep track. These guys agree with me.

I did not spare a ruffle

2011-06-24T12:50:00.001-07:00

That's what my mom says when she looks at my baby pictures. Because folks, a ruffle she did not spare. And since genetics are not just a theory, I too hold ruffles in high esteem. (Sidenote: I also have her chin and her fine German nose.)

For example, I am going to redecorate (or...decorate for the first time, finally) our house in paraphernalia from this fine Dutch company: PiP. Brace yourselves for the FLORALS, the ruffles, and the brights. Get a life, beige.

Merciful heavens, this is hard.

2011-06-22T19:54:00.000-07:00

Let me tell you all the ways I know I am pregnant.

1. All I can do is barf and/or feel like I'm about to barf. Or sleep, or moan into the wind about how I'm about to barf.
2. I am crying a lot, but it's not necessarily in predictably sappy moments. I cried today when I stopped at a friend's house: "I AM TOO SICK TO STAY FOR BOOK CLUB AND I AM JUST SO MISERABLE." She looked and me and said I looked peaked. Which, according to dictionary.com, is not a flattering term.
3. People keep saying that my hair will be lush and gorgeous from all the hormones, but I only notice that hair growth in areas besides my head. Attractive.
4. My guts stick out in a way that is neither womb-like nor distinct. I am just thickening up. Mmm.
5. Our yard is a regular jungle. Literally, I do not care that my prized flower beds are overgrown and disgustingly prickly. How far we fall. How very far we fall.
6. I have seen three full seasons of The Cosby Show on Netflix and have incorporated the word zrbtt into my regular vocabulary. I also want to name our child Rudy.
7. Our house smells so disgusting. We have cleaned and cleaned but it's the mix of Bounce dryer sheets and bacon from breakfast. The wafting just doesn't stop.
8. I'm still taking time to think about the ways I wasn't really ready for this. I felt so excited and so ready on many levels, but then it came faster than we planned (duh, that's what happens), but I don't get to consider that stuff anymore. It's just irrelevant, even though my doubts didn't magically disappear when the stick turned pink. Sigh...
9. I am collecting baby books, and that's good comfort for the bigger, scarier parts of this process.
10. Again, we have watched SO MUCH COSBY. I zrbtt you. And when this baby comes, I'm going to zrbtt her too.

WHERE to begin?

2011-06-12T18:58:00.000-07:00

Well, folks, like all the big time blogs (HA), this little corner of cyberspace is about to become a dialogue of burping, pooping, crying, lack-of-sleeping, stressing, hoping, and wondering...what does it mean to be a PARENT?

Because that's what's happening in our neck of the world. We are having a baby. Ready or not, that baby is going to arrive and we are going to be in charge. Of its small human life. Of its college fund. Of whether or not it has memorable family vacations. And so on.

The weirdest part so far is that I am feeling really, really disconnected from the whole deal. Even after an ultrasound a few weeks ago, I just can't get my brain around the concept that there is a whole little person in my gut. Because let's be real, my gut is busy doing so many cartwheels, it's not really sending the snoozy, cozy, new life vibe. It's sending the "I hate you and I'm going to make you hug that porcelain throne all day long, BOOYAH" vibe. Of course that leads me to wonder if I'm going to be like those wild mammals that look at their newborns and then go stroll the savannah, leaving their young to whichever whippersnapping predator wanders by. AM I GOING TO BE THE APATHETIC LIONESS? This is what would keep me up at night, except I'm way too tired.

Speaking of tired, I am winning every sleeping contest in the world right now. I can sleep all day! Every day! And be ready for bed again in half an hour! And the best part is that I can drink POP with caffeine in it. Because unlike the first 26 years of my life, caffeine now has 0% effect on my ability to sleep. Dr. Pepper, come to mama.

The baby is coming around New Year's Day. I'm going to pretend that an actual due date doesn't exist so I just give birth whenever I darn well please, and I won't be traumatized when I'm 50,000 hours past the day I wanted to be done being pregnant.

We'll see!

Reminds me of the good stuff

2011-05-26T16:26:00.000-07:00

The Colors Of Hope Book Trailer from Richard Dahlstrom on Vimeo.

Boss

2011-05-25T19:42:00.001-07:00

My dear boss at Side-by-Side is hitting the road next week. She has a sweet opportunity and makes me wish big things for my own life...especially when I am 51 and have three kids and wear cute clothes and have a dog named George Constanza and have friends who are cosmetics buyers at Nordstrom. Wait, I guess I just like her life. ANYWAY.

In no particular order, what I have learned from Colleen!

1. Oprah is worth watching. And quoting. And talking about the next morning. And DVRing.

2. Self-talk is not a cheesy phrase. It's what we all need to pay attention to more often. This is not the same as pretending I am blameless at all times.

3. When you need to correct someone, help them avoid the bad self-talk they will dish out on themselves by being nice a nice person. Whenever I made (small, medium and big) mistakes in my job, especially early on, she'd walk me through an alternative option and say, "LEARNING, LEARNING!" And we would giggle and I wouldn't feel awful. I'd just learn.

4. When your mom is far away, it's okay to let other women Mom's age see you cry.

5. Pay attention to the way of the world and adapt and learn about it, especially if that means more fundraising dollars for your nonprofit. Don't be a stick in the mud just because you like mud.

6. Photos tell stories and should be printed LIBERALLY and rotated often, so we remember all the stories.

7. It's smart to be logged into Facebook during work. You can look up people's email addresses and tag them when you need volunteers at the last minute for boring jobs. And perhaps notice when your volunteers start dating each other!

8. When somebody like Susan Boyle happens to the world, close the dang spreadsheet and WATCH. And talk about it with your people at work, and tell the department next door.

9. Remember that every single soul has a gift to give and a place to shine. No matter how quirky or personally annoying I may find that soul. Let people do jobs they are going to be good at.

10. Grief brings up grief. When a volunteer works with a family who has a sick kid, lots of other ish is likely to flood that volunteer. Because when you're confronted with somebody else's sad story, you remember your own, so it's good to think about how that might happen and reflect on it, so your sad story doesn't drown somebody else's in a really crap way.

11. Back to #3, I think I actually did have bad self talk for a LONG time when I was learning (at my job and maybe in all my life). And so my favorite lesson from Colleen is that learning doesn't have to be so uncomfortable. It doesn't have to include self-loathing and regret. It can mean noticing what to do differently next time, apologizing some of the time, and getting on with the day.

12. Take care of your people. When our staff was torn up about a kiddo who died last year, really, really torn up, Colleen didn't try to coach us out of being (actually, disproportionately) sad, she took us for pedicures. Everybody. We sat there and talked about his funeral and the weather and read People magazine. And that is exactly what we needed. So take care of your people. Spend some money if that's what it takes. But don't talk them out of it--care them back.

No gracias

2011-05-25T19:39:00.000-07:00

Again with the Facebook marketing!!! They just suggested I be friends with my dad's divorce lawyer. I mean, can you at least suggest my mom's as well??? WTH. (I'm such a prude.)

PS- Sometimes I know my posts are actually tweets but I cannot handle the linky links on Twitter. I have tried to like it and I do not. Fickle, fickle, fickle. So I tweet here, in your humble blog presence.

Tina Fey's prayer for her daughter

2011-05-22T16:49:00.000-07:00

“First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.

May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.

When the Crystal Meth is offered, may she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half And stick with Beer.

Guide her, protect her when crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.

Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels. What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.

May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.

Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen.Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day – And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.

O Lord, break the Internet forever, that she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.

And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.

And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back. “My mother did this for me once,”she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.

Amen.”

-Tina Fey

via MightyGirl

False Cognates

2011-05-21T09:07:00.000-07:00

Recently, a certain member of our household confused the words loofah and doula. (Hint: This person's name starts with a Du and ends with a Stin.) The following is a 100% accurate transcription of our conversation.

Confused Household Member (CHM): I really need a doula in the shower.

Me: (Blank stare.)

CHM: I just really need one to scratch my back and stuff.

Me: What are you saying?

CHM: I like the scratching on my SKIN! Why is that weird?

Me: OH HONESTLY. You mean a LOOOOOOOFAH. You are very confused about what a doula does.

CHM: What's a doula again?

Me: A childbirth support person. Typically a woman. She scratches your backs during labor.

CHM: Hmmm. Well, maybe I wasn't so confused after all.

Master Gardener on the loose!!!

2011-05-07T17:10:00.000-07:00

Today I am 26 years young. I'm liking 26 so far. Especially because I feel comfortable enough in my own skin that I boldly asked for a pasta attachment for my KitchenAid and a raised bed for vegetables. 2011 is the year of Holly's luxurious vegetable garden.

So we stopped at the UW Center for Urban Horticulture for this fabulously overwhelming PLANT SALE. (You know how typing in caps is rude because it's yelling? Well, I am yelling, and I know you know that I'm booming about 80% of the time, so I feel it's just a more authentic writer's voice. FYI.)

The PLANT SALE was abundantly staffed with the most knowledgeable, eager slew of Master Gardeners as you ever did see. These people love to us coming because we need all the help we can get. I've killed enough impossible-to-kill plants to know that it's worth sounding dull in order to get every detail clarified. (In fact, the women standing behind me must have been whispering about how many questions I was asking. Hehe, get in line, ladies.)

And since those lovely Master Gardeners loved us back, here's the fruit of our birthday labor:

That's 32 square feet of heaven. We're planting three types of tomatoes (Early Girl, Sun Gold, and a basic Roma that's supposedly to be better than the average Roma), sweet peas, rainbow chard, kale, chives, cilantro, Walla Walla sweet onions, polka dot lettuce and a another rusty red lettuce. And corn, if I play my cards right with Dustin, who is unreasonably skeptical about that one.

Here's to another year of messy adventures!

I'm trying not to think about that unflattering angle.

2011-05-05T13:50:00.000-07:00

But I'm so proud of what we do and the work of Side-by-Side!

Peacemakers...

2011-05-01T21:22:00.001-07:00

Remember how disgusting it felt to watch people celebrate after 9/11? Pretty disgusting. How soon we forget.

Good News

2011-04-29T21:54:00.000-07:00

Several crotchety people in my periphery have complained this week about all the royal wedding hoopla. You want to know what I think?

When the world holds its breath, it's always for bad news. Earthquakes, terrorism, assassinations, scandals. Today the world held its breath for hope and joy and BEAUTY. Alexander McQueen-style beauty. Ancient tradition-style beauty. It's not everyday we can all stand up and cheer. (Except for Grace Van Mumsen.)

Long live the queen!

Christ the Lord is Risen Today!

2011-04-24T17:04:00.001-07:00

Maundy

2011-04-21T22:27:00.000-07:00

Tonight reminded me that the traditions of my faith are not always as inspirational as I expect them to be. Por ejemplo, UPC's Maundy Thursday service was tonight, and even though I don't know what Maundy means (capitalized?), we showed up with our small group hoping for some reflection, some beautiful music, some shared sense of the importance of Good Friday and then Easter! I love Easter! I was excited to THINK and REFLECT and PREPARE.

But we were late to the service by almost 30 minutes. So we arrived midway through a sermon about Hosea (Um, where's the story about Jesus, people?), and we sat in the back row and smelled strongly of waffle fries, since that's what had made us late. Waffle fries from The Ram, and the waitress who served them so slowly. Anyway, the point is that we didn't get a chance to put ourselves in the right frame of mind. I didn't, at least. Strike one.

Strike two occurred when I recognized a fellow pew-sitter in the parking garage after the service, and I stopped her to compliment her hair. She was STUNNED. And not in a flattered way, because her hair was so awesome that she obviously knew it was gorg. She just said, "I don't think I know you!" I'm sorry ma'am, we just sang a hymn together. Can't you just say thank you? Sisters in Christ, much? It was exactly what I don't like about a big church. Or maybe I just didn't like this lady.

Strike three? While waiting 15+ minutes to exit the parking garage, from whence all church-goers came, a shiny black Mercedes refused to "do the zipper" as we tried to merge down the ramp. Again, we just sang a hymn together.

And so on the way home from Maundy Thursday, I didn't reflect on Christ's death and resurrection, I pondered 1) why The Ram is *never* good, 2) how to get hair like that lady, and 3) why I have such ridiculous expectations when it comes to church. I am accustomed to flawless musicianship, strong preaching, policemen directly traffic. I appreciate a community that values excellence--but have I become a spoiled churchgoer? Yes! Yikes!

I think I need a visit to Mexico and a rousing round of Alabare to get my attitude in check.

or...

Before Bed

2011-04-19T21:51:00.001-07:00

This is one of those things that is super fun to watch right before you fall asleep. I wonder what you'll dream about?

Symmetry from Everynone on Vimeo.

Via Design Mom

Marketing Genius?

2011-04-15T10:53:00.000-07:00

These ads were personally selected for me thanks to Facebook's fancy "I will read your mind and generate links that make you want to BUY or PARTICIPATE" software.

Except they aren't working for me.

True Life: I am working retail

2011-04-15T08:53:00.000-07:00

A few months ago it was clear this whole homeownership gig was going to be a LOT MORE MONEY than we planned. And we planned for a lot of stuff, but who can imagine a house with brand new windows would *literally* be 61 degrees all winter? No matter how much one pumps the heat, frigid we remain. I finally feel justified when I go to REI for high quality ski gear.

Thus, I got another job. Have I already told you this? (Side note: I'm going to put it all out there today and tell you that this new, sent-from-heaven medicine called Pristiq also affects my memory. I am upbeat, energetic, not depressed, which is the point (!!), but boy do I forget my thought in the middle of the sentence. Time will tell if this side effect is tolerable. But for now: spacey!)

What was I saying? Just kidding, I looked at my last paragraph for a refresher. I got another job. I'm making coffee at a new little shop in South Lake Union called Kakao. (Please don't stalk me if you're a weirdo.)

I LOVE IT. But first I hated it. First of all, I haven't really been a coffee drinker since I am so naturally energetic. Duh! So I didn't feel confident in terms of what the drinks should taste like, or what people meant when they said no foam. Foam? Like a mattress? What was I saying? This was also compounded by some very, very low expectations set for me by my friend Rory.

"I promise you that all you need to know about making lattes can be learned in one afternoon."

Maybe the fact that Rory is my age, has a master's in creative writing, likes to do calculus for FUN (Still? Who does that?), and has a column for McSweeney's should have tipped me off that my learning curve might be steeper. But it didn't. Because I am not depressed but spacey. Unlike Rory, who has his career in the bag and kicks ass.

After several miserable training sessions, from which I left covered in scalded milk and espresso stained fingernails, I nearly quit. I even planned a little speech about why the bus schedule had changed (it did), but somehow I persevered. Just kidding, we were just desperate for the money!

But it got better. Little by little, I got the hang of steaming milk. And I have learned all about the bouquet of espresso, and thanks to the early mornings, my body is happy for the caffeine. One day someone ordered a breve and I had to stick my head under the counter and pretend to look for lids, but actually I was googling breve. But nobody caught me, and that lady left happy.

Best of all, I have made lovely friends. The fellow baristas are my new favorite people--they are all in grad school and inspire me to get gutsy with my vocation--and the customers. I think baristas in Seattle serve more as bartending therapists more than I knew. What to say to all the Amazon employees that think nothing of coming TWICE a day for a $4.00 latte and a heart to heart?

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

I am not pregnant. But I love this.

2011-04-08T17:44:00.000-07:00

What does having a baby feel like?

"It's like when you're a little kid, and it's the way you feel on Christmas morning as you race down the stairs, and you can't even wait for the day. And you cry a lot because you're so tired and excited at the same time."

Image from fatbaby.tumblr.com

Paraphrased from kellyraeroberts.com

I remembered!

2011-03-10T22:24:00.001-08:00

Dustin and I are jumping back on the food reviewing bandwagon. So tweet your little hearts out and follow us @seattleeatsout.

Don't worry, The Pink Door is already following us. We're VIPs.

Booyah

2011-03-10T22:11:00.000-08:00

Is booyah technically a term coined by the marines? I remember when I was in high school and my mom would use the word sweet, and it just sounded SO DORKY. I think that's what my kids will experience when I continue to say booyah in 2032.

I'm booyahing because my itch to learn more about graphic design is finally getting scratched. Lucky me! And the best part is that it's freeeeeee. Booyah! A designer at work is giving me one-on-one lessons in Photoshop, InDesign, and hopefully Illustrator. I'm loving every minute, but the best part is that I'll finally have some ability to create a cool layout for this fine blog! Won't that be fun? It might be a reason to click on out of your Google Reader page for once!

There was something else I wanted to blog about and now I've forgotten. Typical. I will tell you that I bought some $2.99 shampoo the other day at Target. This is a big deal because I spent all my nanny money in college developing expensive taste and a love for Bumble and bumble (I really like their font, what can I say). Basically, this is hair-backsliding.

So Dustin asked me yesterday how the poor-woman's shampoo was working. And I launched into a long list of reasons it wasn't going to work out--weighed my hair down, looked kind of dirty, didn't smell as good, etc. Then he asked me where it was... as he stood looking at the Target bag in which the SHAMPOO STILL SAT. Unopened! And I legitimately thought I had a bad hair day from the Tres Semme. That's what anti-depressants do to your brain, folks. They take away your troubles and your frickin' memory. Oolala.

Next to Normal

2011-03-02T21:25:00.000-08:00

Just when a hard day seems like it might end with a bucket of Breyer's Vanilla Bean, a long phone call with my mom saves me the heavy cream. Nothing quite like it. Four--one, two, three, four--families connected to Side-by-Side lost their children this week. No words for that. And the regular stuff of life marches on too. Car repairs, tax returns, poorly dyed hair. What a world, eh?

Last night we trekked out to see Next to Normal at the 5th. As much as I love the arts, sometimes I get bored in musicals. Then I follow up the boredom with guilt about not being cultured enough. Blahblahblah.

Not this time! Maybe it's because it felt so familiar, maybe it's because I saw at least ten people I know from my NAMI class, but I was howling with laughter and dripping with tears until the lights went up. All. the. way. to. the. end. It was superb. And there was an UNDERSTUDY playing the lead!

Take a listen and then go see this show.

Janruary

2011-02-25T22:26:00.000-08:00

I can't tell you how delightful it feels...

...to put some creative SPRING back in my step.

Even though my only camera is on my phone...

I think you can tell I've been quite busy.

(Ruby likes to observe the art up close. Preferably

while she's wearing adult clothing.)

I roasted a lady-like chicken for sustenance.

And I made a plum tart/pie/thing for dessert.

(I ate this whole thing by myself while Dustin

suffered through P90X in the other room. Sucker.)

Then I spent some time with a mismatched baby.

(I adore him.) (My use of parentheses is wild and rampant.)

Then we flew to California so I could hold my other favorite baby, Ike.

THE END.

Rigoletto, anyone?

2011-02-17T17:45:00.000-08:00

This too shall pass

2011-02-16T21:46:00.000-08:00

There was a shooting in Seattle late last summer. A man died--a man who had a very hard life, filled with addiction and homelessness and poverty and a lot of living on the fringe. The man who shot him was a Seattle Police officer who perceived the man as a threat. The city of Seattle is turned completely inside out over this--how could a policeman be threatened by an inebriated woodcarver? People are furious.

But I am just so sad. I'm sad because that police officer is a guy we know personally. And frankly, he is a man of incredible character. I don't know what happened that day, but I do know that this loss of life is a tragedy. And I could never, never, never believe it was a calculated murder. Or that his action was motivated by racial prejudice. It was a horrible, painful tragedy that makes me sad for the vulnerable people on the streets of Seattle and sad for people like Ian Birk--people who have tremendous integrity and have to make terrifying split second decisions every day in the name of public service. They are human beings.

If you're the praying sort, send a prayer for our community and the fractured relationships we're trying to sort out. Nobody wins here, and it's going to take a long time for this to heal.

Priorities? Oh, they're darn straight.

2011-02-15T19:26:00.000-08:00

Lately we've been watching quite a bit of Friday Night Lights. Yes, we are five years behind the rest of America, but our friends won't stop talking about it. However, it's been about a month of three-episodes-per-day watching. We managed to go out for Dustin's birthday and patch our leaking roof, but otherwise, that's all we've done since Christmas.

So today in a staff meeting, we had a little prayer time. (That's not so weird if you work at a church.) I was praying and I took a little pause, and then I prayed the Panthers' motto:

Dear God,

Please give us clear eyes, full hearts, so we can't...lose.

Amen

Apparently the Lord's Prayer just wasn't at the top of my mind. Apparently my mind is full of NBC television.

Move ON, Nutella.

2011-01-26T20:13:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I left the grocery store with approximately 12 dairy products...total products purchased=18. That should tell you something about how well Jillian's 30-Day Shred is going. But I'm not here to moan. I'm here to tell you how to make the world's most splendid bagel spread.

MMMMMM.

It goes something like this: Take a clementine or orange-like fruit, squeeze the juice into a softened block of Neufchatel (pronounced noof-shah-tale, IMHO), add a little spoonful of brown sugar, a wee bit of almond extract and prepare to be exalted by all who consume this glorywork (new word I invented).

Photography is a hobby that I have only mastered in my brain, so instead, let this vivid description compel you to cook/stir!

Hello, Ego

2011-01-16T18:57:00.000-08:00

If I try to blog about being married, then I inevitably spend two hours debating the line between attempting to be a funny writer and attempting to pick a fight by sharing an embarrassing anecdote about my husband's personal grooming. So. Even though the post I just wrote was highly funny, Olympic-level comedy (I'm giving myself so much credit! My sense of self is improving! THE THERAPY IS WORKING!!!), it was at my husband's expense. Just so you know, it was way funny. Pretend you got to experience it, and then nod in appreciation for my highly developed sense of prudence. Prudish. Prude. Teehee.

So although you'll have to go without the funny grooming story, I won't deprive you of the recipe for my wildly successful dinner tonight. (Again, the self-confidence is astounding.)

That's a helluva glaze. Am I RIGHT? Costco makes it possible for us to maintain a highly carnivorous lifestyle, despite Dr. Oz's bestselling attempts to turn us into away from meat forever. Get excited, this is going to make you a supahstah.

Ego Pork

2 lbs pork tenderloin (mine were two separate loins...if you know what I mean)
1/2 bottle Newman's Own Light Italian Vinaigrette (the point is that it's not full of disgusting gelatinous chemicals, otherwise it can be just about any oil-based dressing, even homemade!)
2 Tbs dijon mustard
1 lemon's juice
lots of cracked black pepper
lots of sea salt

Dump all goodies into a gallon-sized ziploc and marinate overnight, if you can. Take 'em out of that bag, sear them in a heavy duty skillet to get a nice crust. Don't give up too fast! Let the crust happen. This is a good time to appreciate the word crusty. Invite your neighbors to come hold you accountable, in the words of the Baptists. Whatever you have to do to leave that crust alone and make it crusty. Turn it over little by little, working that crust like Julia Roberts worked Hollywood Boulevard. It's a metaphorapalooza!

Then add a little glug of water to the pan and pop it in the oven to roast. Now I have seen recipes insist on 475 degrees and I have heard caterers claim 375 will do the trick. I opted for a preheated (duh), 400 degree oven, and I just kept testing those little loins until they were done enough for my liking. I don't mind a little pink, but my gramps eats bacon while it's still squealing. Mmm.

Say you're following my lead and roasting at 400 degrees--you'll let that loin roast for about 35 minutes, then check to make sure it's to your liking. Use a thermometer if you're fancy, or cut into it if you aren't going to panic about the leaky juice situation.

Oh my gosh, this post is so long you could've already eaten dinner by now. Sorry about that. Skip forward to when you take out the cooked-to-your-liking roast, let it rest for five minutos, then slice and serve with some pan juices drizzled over top.

You're welcome!

PS- You can also make my luxurious mashed potatoes by adding melty cream cheese and an extra scoop of cheddar to your own personal recipe. You're welcome again.

PPS- Can you tell I had caffeine today? That was fifteen hours ago and I am still so tightly wound, I just, I can't even think of how to explain it but to refer you back to the 1000 word blog post I just wrote. Next time the 'roaster who is training me (I got another, additional job, btw) says caffeine isn't really that much of a stimulant, I will refer him to this post.

We are so grown up

2011-01-09T21:51:00.001-08:00

Guys. We bought a table at Crate and Barrel yesterday. And we didn't even use leftover gift cards from our wedding!!! It was a floor sample that was on crazy-bahungas clearance, but people, we are officially acting Like a Pair of Married Yuppies.

But if it means we get to enjoy furniture that didn't come from the side of the road, then I'm okay with that. Maybe someday I'll actually post pictures of our own personal house, then we'll be a Pair of Married Yuppies Who Blog about Homeownership. Also, the first meal we shared at our fancy table was Taco Bell. Extra packets of hot sauce.

Also, I totally get crackly cry voice when I talk in front of people. It's like the sonar version of ugly cry face. I shared a prayer request (I know, I know) at church and the crackly cry voice haunted me all day. I'm such a crier!

See you soon. I totally installed a hit counter so now I am lurking back, lurkers.

Sleuthing it out

2010-12-10T09:51:00.000-08:00

Any fleck of boredom has lately been cured with Craigslist. In the past, I've been overwhelmed by line after harsh blue-fonted line only a few minutes into perusing for, say, a Mitchell Gold + Bob Williams couch for $1.50. It's a lofty goal, I admit, and until a startling discovery called Craigseasy, I withered easily.

Not anymore, folks! Now that I can sort so swiftly, and most importantly by viewing lists of images, I am a Craigslist...dominatrix? That doesn't sound quite right (God help the google search), but in general, I am DOMINATING Craigslist.

Recent finds include a refinished daybed and trundle, a Pottery Barn seagrass chair that never actually got picked up (not the point!), and some disrespect for the owners of a certain antique shop in Crown Hill who obviously don't follow online etiquette.

But what I really want to talk about it how you search on Craigslist. Ebay is so much easier, they think of things for you! But Craigslist takes much more calculation.

I'll show you my keyword search list if you'll show me yours...

seagrass
tufted
velvet
eames
rocker
rocking
club chair
pottery barn chair
malabar
west elm
crate and barrel
garnet hill
restoration hardware
anthropologie
console
side table
slipper chair
sisal
cost plus
world market
pier 1
hemnes
billy
mitchell gold bob williams
design within reach/dwr
club chair/leather club chair

A Jolly Good Fellow

2010-12-03T20:01:00.000-08:00

Our sweet Henry passed away today. He was a fourth grader. A witty, sassy kid who was claimed as a best friend by at least 12 kids I know. He loved to "window shop" at Toys 'R Us, take trips by limo to the Lego store, and make his mom laugh. My wise friend Marla, the one who "walks like a penguin," in the words of Henry, says there's a cumulative effect when you see kids being snatched away by cancer. Just because it's our job to be in Cancer World doesn't mean we'll ever be immune to the inexplicable unfairness, the grief, the shit of it. It's like a big tower of Legos that stacks up and you can't ever unstack it.

Last week Henry asked our volunteers to help him write a song. He had already named it when they arrived at the hospital, guitars in tow: Henry's Happy Life.

*I wouldn't typically feel comfortable telling a family's story here on my ridiculous little blog, but Henry's mom has always asked for his story to be told. She has pleaded for prayers and support--email chains, you name it--for as long as we've known her, so it seems to me that his story should keep being told. Please be respectful in sharing their story.

Saturday Morning Run Down

2010-11-13T09:52:00.000-08:00

Because I have no shame in my now-withered blogging skills, I give you a list of the latest. Ahem.

1. The husband is gone. This means that I have gone cray-zay with organizing, stopping in the middle of organizing to go organize something else, cooking, stopping in the middle of cooking to go back and finish organizing, stopping to watch an episode of The Real Housewives of [insert ridiculous city here], then deciding it's time to paint the bathroom. I have also installed a new shower head with great aplomb and uninstalled a toilet seat. Alas, the new one is still not installed. I am hovering.

2. I just read a story about a mom whose son used the word "retarded" to insult his brother. Teaching her son how hurtful/inappropriate/jerky it is to use that word wasn't what I loved most--his consequence was researching nonprofits that support kids with developmental disabilities and donating two months allowance to the one he liked best. Isn't that smart? I don't know if it's all Gottman-approved, but I liked it. Go Mom!

3. Typography is my current obsession. I've made some new friends who are designy, and let me tell you, I am greedy for their knowledge. Have you ever thought about the people who DRAW THE LETTERS WE TYPE? There are people whose job it is to draw letters. WHAAA? It just blows my mind. All I want for Christmas is a Helvetica t-shirt.

4. Our house is getting cuter. It's actually significantly cuter when it's clean. Cheap fix, eh?

5. Last night my two favorite curly haired girls came for a sleepover. We watched The Incredibles, ate quesadillas and Weight Watchers ice cream bars, and fought over a Care Bear named Monkey.

6. It's still no fun to ride an hour on the bus to get to work. Get with it, Metro Transit.

That's all for now!

Yours,

Spazztastic

Husky at Heart!

2010-09-27T22:05:00.000-07:00

Even thought #22 looks like a badass, he actually really likes coleslaw and has great table manners.

From what I can tell, when you get cancer, especially if you're a little kid, people like to give you STUFF. A lot of times it's free tickets, sometimes it's free stuffed animals (since we know those are so hard to come by), ugly hats are a popular choice, plus bandanas that had been sitting at the bottom of the barrel in the Michael's clearance section since last Christmas. And there's a lot of wonderful gifts that come along, but in the end, stuff if stuff.

But tonight, my friends, the kids who are staying at the Ronald McDonald House while their families face serious medical situations had an EXPERIENCE. A fun one. The University of Washington Men's Basketball team came to eat dinner! And I was there, cooking up a storm! And then I chatted up a storm, because who wants a bunch of awkward 18-year-old boys to stand around in their 7 foot glory and scare small children with their awkwardness? Not me. So I sat down, the 5'4" blonde girl with an entire table of African American, NBA-dreaming college students, to pick their brains about the rain in Seattle (hard to adjust to, according to the boys from San Diego, Watts, and you know, Senegal!!!), which majors would never work for a basketball player: science and engineering, for sure, and what they thought of the House.

"I've never been here before, but I am definitely coming back y'all!" Too cute.

We had a mini photoshoot (HP should sponsor us with the amount of color ink we have been using lately), let kids decorate cardstock picture frames and got tons of autographs. There were t-shirts and basketballs and some good natured ribbing, but my favorite part was seeing those boys, the ones who land on SportsCenter all the time, the ones who came from all around the world, not necessarily thinking college education was in their stars, realizing the influence and privilege of their position. I'm hoping they liked it enough to warrant a free few tickets for me this season. :)

You want vlog? I give you vlog!

2010-09-02T13:35:00.000-07:00

Ear to Ear

2010-08-07T06:50:00.000-07:00

Let me give you a window into my brain this morning. It's 6:51am on a Saturday, and my heart and head are so full, sleep seems ridiculous.

*Arrived home from Camp Side-by-Side last night to a happy husband and a NEW HOUSE! Dustin moved in while I was gone, and he painted the kitchen, dining room, and our little library.
*Not only was the house painted, Dustin picked out the most perfect blue known to humans and painted the little studio out back...then he set up my sewing machine and my favorite lamp. I am have my own ART STUDIO!!!
*Making new friends at camp is still one of my most precious memories of being a summer camper growing up, and Camp Side-by-Side did not let me down this week. I had no idea I had room for more best friends.
*Our friends just gave us a gift card to Pottery Barn, which is clearly going to be spent today.
*I got to hear Tony Campolo speak last night on HIV/AIDS and the Christian response in 2010.
*Because my boss is awesome, I get to have a whole more week to think about my overflowing cup.

South Africa Meets Soccer Meets TEARJERKER!!!

2010-05-24T20:44:00.000-07:00

Don't worry... I haven't forgotten how to write my own sentences. It's just that posting videos is so much more sophisticated. I'll be back again someday!

Vlogosphere

2010-05-19T19:08:00.000-07:00

And One More Thing...

2010-04-30T13:53:00.000-07:00

Per Britta and Lindsey's request, I am documenting this profound fact: Last night at Crush, five women in their mid-twenties witnessed a DRAGONFLY crawl out of this girl's purse. And then she killed it. In Crush! A classy time was had by all.

Twice in One Week for a Reason

2010-04-30T13:50:00.000-07:00

Winnie-the-Pooh Pie

1 pre-made graham cracker crust pie shell (or make your own, overachiever)
1 pint whipping cream
2-3 bananas (not too ripe)
1 jar of Williams Sonoma Dulce de Leche (the best $10.00 you'll ever spend)

First dump the cream into a mixing bowl, whip for about 4 minutes. Just fluffy enough to be cloud-like. Not too stiff. Add some sugar to it if you want. Or a little vanilla! Yum!

Next zap the dulce de leche in the microwave for about 20 seconds. Spread a good glob on the bottom of the pie crust, then slice the bananas over the pie. Arrange them if you're into being organized. Plop the cream on top of the bananas as liberally as you're like. I'm a liberal, so I like a lot of whipped cream. And taxes. HA!

Top the pie with some hot cocoa powder, or if you're really feeling fancy, shave some of a Hershey's bar with a vegetable peeler.

Enjoy!

Warm Fuzzyhood

2010-04-26T08:58:00.001-07:00

Soapbox Alert! My Fundraising Letter...

2010-04-16T13:22:00.000-07:00

Hello Friends,

Don't be alarmed. I'm writing with a cause. But it's a good one. Many of you know my darling brother Skip, who turned 22 this year. About seven years ago, Skip sunk into a miserable, dark depression. And his journey since then has been long and turbulent. Two years ago he was given a diagnosis of schizophrenia, and while that, ahem, landed our family squarely at the corner of Crappy and Confused, the progress he has made since that diagnosis is phenomenal. I mean, REALLY. He went from agitated, sleepless, haggard, to bright, funny, functioning, and making the best of some wild, wild circumstances. He is himself again, and his symptoms will ebb and flow and will always need treatment. But he's having good days, thanks to the doctors and therapists and teachers and social workers and nurses and friends and family and pastors and pharmacists and YOU.

Because people like you are the ones who can support (drum roll) organizations like the National Alliance on Mental Alliance (NAMI). And NAMI is the glue that helps bring all those other people together, giving consumers (the word we use for folks with mental illness) the hope that it's going to get better. NAMI offers support groups for consumers, family members and friends, generates anti-stigma information to the public (no more Burger King commercials that make us want to cry) and continues to advocate for research on the treatment of mental illness.

Here are some fun facts about schizophrenia!

*Research on mental illness has largely occurred since 1980. That's way later than heart disease, cancer, etc. It's a new frontier!

*Schizophrenia is more common than Multiple Sclerosis. Truth.

*It affects the entire world population equally. It's not in the water, or the money, or the culture, or the religion.

*Schizophrenia affects the ability to think, formulate ideas, reason, remember, and/or concentrate. It's a doozy.

*Side effects of the most effective medications include memory inhibition, weight gain, increased risk for cardio-vascular disorders, bankruptcy! :)

So I'm going on a walk with NAMI to help keep their work trucking along. On May 15th we will stroll along Lake Washington and wave our flags and wear t-shirts in honor of the ones we love, and I would be so happy to send your money in the direction of this good work. Five dollars from each of you would make my d-a-y.

Click here to support me.

Thanks for listening. Happy Spring!

Holly

I'll Stop Shaving Now

2010-03-28T13:38:00.000-07:00

Attention, anybody who has ever accused me of becoming too left-coast!

I am going to LILITH FAIR this summer

in George, Washington.

You heard me. You couldn't really call me a lefty until now. It's like a feminist bonanza!

I'll be trekking 'cross the mountain with five of my favorite people. For example...

The Awkward Blogger. Known to some as SPU Librarian-in-Training, but to me she is the most prolific storyteller of them all. One time she told a story about a miniskirt, and it's all I can do not to tell everybody I know. She's that awesome.

Also hopping in the minivan is this delightful creature. The goddess of fine cookware and the friend everybody wants to have when getting married/having a baby/existing. I expect fine snacks from Queen Ice Cream. She is also a therapist, so she can judge you whilst serving you dinner!

Overall-wearing, Eastside-dwelling mommy of a boy named after someone famous. Once she was my boss, and even though that job was not remotely my calling, we stay friends. Especially because her child is friggin' cute.

Again, my friends are awesome. Best friend and former roommate extraordinaire, this Ta-Ta Saver will likely provide several coolers full of white sangria for the festivities. She will probably find a way to include tofu in the recipe, and we will actually like it! She also gags a lot. I sometimes think she's faking it until I realize that she isn't.

The leader of our pack and much cooler than this haircut would suggest, our Mighty Mommy. She drives a red-hot minivan, gives thrifty a whole new meaning and loves to interpret weird dreams.

So that's the crew! Stay tuned to hear about our very exciting, inter-generational road trip.

Revisiting That Soapbox

2010-02-20T20:19:00.000-08:00

I ran across this article in the archives of SPU's Response Magazine. Reminded me of why, despite its flaws, my place of worship and community is on the right track. It's long, but read up. It's local! :)

Church In-Reach: Care for the Congregation

“When a person deals with mental illness, sometimes the Christian community says it’s a spiritual problem — that you don’t have enough faith, and if you just read your Bible more, you’d be cured,” says Claudia Grauf-Grounds, chair of Seattle Pacific University’s Marriage and Family Therapy program.

One Seattle congregation is taking radical steps to change such thinking. Twelve years ago, University Presbyterian Church (UPC) Senior Pastor Earl Palmer invited David Zucker to join the staff. Zucker, neither a clergyman nor a clinician, had long worked for Agape Outreach, a home for adults with severe and persistent mental illness. He was a natural fit for a groundbreaking new position at the church: mental health advocate.

“I’ve learned over the years that the biggest part of healing and recovery is how well you’re welcomed back into the community after you’ve been ill,” says Zucker. “Folks that come the farthest have cheerleaders to root them on. I wanted to explore what the church could do to provide that kind of support.”

Zucker initially envisioned his UPC ministry would center on outreach to people in the city who struggled with mental illness. But something amazing happened. “People — church members — started to come to me in droves,” he says. “Many of them came like Nicodemus in the night, knocking on my window and coming up to me after services.”

Zucker describes families in distress; depression-ravaged, high-functioning adults; and everything in between. “I found that UPC was no different than any other congregation in America; members of the church were suffering and struggling with mental illness, and they were afraid to be identified,” he says. “Yet they desperately needed and wanted support.” That’s when Zucker came to an important conclusion, one that would define his next 12 years at the church: “We needed to be doing in-reach, not out-reach.”

It takes a special sensitivity level to manage such a program. “I’m someone who is a survivor of mental illness,” he says candidly. “That’s where my interest and openness come from. I’ve walked through the dark night of the soul myself. After I became a Christian, I got engaged. When she called it off, I became deeply depressed. Folks very quickly got tired of praying for me. I felt like I was a leper — on the periphery. I’ll never forget the pain and brokenness I felt.” He says he saw the importance of community in recovery from illness and crisis. “I became convinced of the healing value of relational ministry — that’s ultimately what we do here.”

Zucker says his work is rooted in a word: compassion. “In Greek, compassion means to suffer with,” he explains. “When you choose to walk alongside someone who’s suffering, you enter into their grief. I’d love to see seminarians have more training to do this.”

UPC’s model for mental health ministry is radical by church standards; it’s also rooted in concepts of collaborative care — specifically, that healing can be maximized by a network of support. “Our focus is to provide a first-class welcome and spiritual discipleship to folks who are hurting,” says Zucker. “No matter how ill a person is, even if they’re delusional, there is still that deep spiritual yearning.”

Beyond that, Zucker serves as an advocate, someone who goes to bat for people who are suffering. He’s there to provide a listening ear, support, and referrals. “I advocate for people, meet their felt needs, and help network for them.” Sometimes that means helping families access social services, dealing head-on with crisis, or making referrals to psychotherapists. “If someone comes in here needing support for life, I’m here,” he says. “I can’t do everything for them, but I can do something.” And Zucker is especially proud of one thing: “In all of the years I have been here, not one person who has attended our fellowship groups has ever taken their own life.”

Aside from managing five church-sponsored support groups attended by nearly 40 people each week, he is in contact with roughly 200 people in any given Monday-through-Sunday interval — some of whom are psychotherapists working collaboratively with him to meet the needs of parishioners and their families. “Twenty-five years ago, churches didn’t know what to do with divorce; now there are ministries and support groups for people going through that,” says Zucker. “I think this [mental illness ministry] is the last frontier in churches — because it impacts so many people.”

He points to 1 Corinthians, where Paul likens the church to the body: “Paul says all the parts of the body are essential, but he reminds us that we need to give greater care to the weaker parts — that’s ultimately what leads to greater unity in the body.”

Just a Moment of Your Time :)

2010-02-04T09:54:00.000-08:00

Please watch this trailer, oh please, won't you? Please.

I'm Giving in to the Madness

2010-02-04T09:00:00.000-08:00

Not only have I willingly succumbed to the goofy plot that is Doppelganger Week, I just trotted over to urbandictionary.com to, ahem, learn more about myself. Don't worry, I edited this for flattery's sake.

Holly: A word used to describe a beautiful and bright being.

Usually linked to a girl of average height with blonde hair and brown eyes.

Symptons of being a Holly:
- excessive loudness (no volume control)
- sometimes lives in a fantasy world- believes herself to be a princess
- Tendency to dress in a lot of pastel coloured pink
- likes to be liked & loves the people closest to her dearly

Other attributes of Hollys:
- Hardworking, motivated and ambitious
- Creative, artistic and emotive
- romantic, confident and passionate

Salad Days

2010-01-30T12:11:00.000-08:00

Holly and Skipper, c. 1993, Cincinnati

Photoshopping c. 2001

Water balloons are not edited. Nor is the pig doormat.

Don't Call Me

2010-01-28T19:04:00.001-08:00

Dear Mr. Technology,

You rock my world. Daily. I love knowing that I can pretend to understand a conversation 'round the watercooler, run back to my desk, Wikipedia the mystery reference and make an "informed" comment the next time I swing by. This is a fabulous convenience: I feel cool.

I also love, Mr. Techie, the way my iPhone gives me instantaneous answers about my bus's whereabouts (downtown, three minutes delayed) and reminders for family birthdays. I couldn't do without these luxuries now that I'm so painfully spoiled. You get me, Techie, you really do.

But Tech, there has been a price for all this luxury. Mostly, I have become That Girl Who Doesn't Get Back to People. It's been a long time coming. People usually expect me to delay in responding to emails, answering friend requests, replying to messages, commenting in return on a blog, texting back my weekend plans, and on and on. BUT WAIT A MINUTE. What is wrong with this picture? There are ten, TEN ways that people can reach me these days.

And ten is way too many. You have created a monster, Techno Man. Home phone, cell phone, text, Gmail, G-chat, Facebook: messages, walls and chat, work email, and work phone. How am I supposed to sustain that kind of communication? WHO HAS TIME FOR THAT? I know I'm not the only one. But I am just not interesting in juggle all of this anymore.

So, Mr. T, I am waving my white flag. You win. I admit defeat. I'm not the girl who can be counted on when it comes to answering the call of duty. If people want to reach me, they can come and knock on my frickin' door. The rat race of "reply all" is ending today. The reply time guilt is whooshing down the drain as we speak. I know you'll try and woo me back. I'll continue to suffer the silent judgment of the Quick Replyers, but you will know who has my heart: Mr. Doorbell.

Love,

Holly Elizabeth

Lighter Notes

2010-01-20T19:20:00.001-08:00

The summer we got married, Dustin and I had obscene amounts of free time. Being a teacher does come with that perk, and I was just unemployed. At that point, it was still fun not having a job.

We decided to start a little video podcast with reviews of restaurants we'd venture off to, and although we only made it through a handful of episodes, I still like to watch them. Partly because I am vain and need to know what I look like when I talk (freakish amounts of white around the eyes, fyi). Partly because I like to see how much we've changed in the short time we've been doing this marriage thing. It's incredible how much more I know about this person, even when I was sure I knew it all. I knew nothing of Dustin's sink disposal phobias. Nothing of his need to sleep with elbows up, ready to accidentally knock my lights out. Nothing of his willingness to do my laundry. Every. Week.

The links to our little show are here at our old wedding website--hopefully they'll lead you to some fun Seattle haunts and steer you clear of the lame spots. Bon appetit!

This Could Get Awkward

2010-01-19T22:21:00.000-08:00

Okay. Like I said, this could get awkward. I'm already awkward in this first paragraph. But I need to get this off my chest.

Why does everyone feel so uncomfortable talking about mental illness?

For example, there are entire websites that exist for the sole purpose of following cancer diagnoses. And gobs of people read them. They keep family and friends informed of the good news, the sad news, and how to help in between. And they're an incredible tool, I'm a huge fan. But never do people subscribe to blog updates when brothers and mothers and fathers and friends are delusional, psychotic, dangerous to themselves, falling apart. Nevernevernever does some company put a ribbon on a water bottle to support schizophrenia research.

It makes me really sad to know that someone in my life suffers from this hideous disease and is also subjected to so much judgment and misunderstanding. It is just not fair. I want a Fun Run. I want to hear Bill Gates announce a billion dollars in funding. I want to salute a Peace Prize winner who unlocks the key to relief for my loved one.

One way I'm trying to advocate for the mentally ill is to pay attention to my language. We have gotten really good at using inclusive, respectful language in so many circumstances, but the way people throw around terms like... nutcase, wacko, psycho, lunatic...it's cruel. I have listened to my sweet brother sob because the pain of being ostracized for his illness was infinitely more miserable than his hallucinations, his paranoia. For the record, that was shitty.

As I've learned more about mental illness, and schizophrenia especially, I'm realizing that nobody is going to change attitudes, shift judgment, unless people who have suffered tell their stories. My brother cannot tell his story right now, so I'm here in his place. Telling his story, in all my awkward glory. Without his permission, abandoning my sense of ethical blogging for the sake of following my gut.

I may never write about this again, but I just needed to say, "WE ARE HERE. There are people here who are in pain, who are in pain and who deserve compassion, just like anybody else who is sick and suffering." Thanks for humoring me. And stop calling your neighbors "nut jobs."

Breaking Ground

2010-01-18T11:43:00.000-08:00

Learning to cook Thai and Indian food (like they can be lumped together so casually, ha) is one of my top to-dos this year. Last night Kelsey came over and we tackled Thai Coconut Chicken Soup together. I have to say, it was so tasty, the entire pot is gone, less than twelve hours later. We started with the idea from The Williams Sonoma Cookbook, which my dad got me for Christmas, but since we were missing an ingredient or two, the recipe became a little more our own. Unfortunately, there was no time to stop for a picture between bowls, so you'll have to settle for the happy yellow lining of my soup pot.

Harder to find ingredients always held me back from trying Thai cooking before, since I'm not usually the plan-what's-for-dinner-type. But we finally went looking for lemongrass and all the other fixings (which turned out to be rather normal, actually), and the result was utterly worthwhile. Hopefully you'll have time to try this one soon!

Thai Coconut Chicken Soup

*serves about six*

2 large boneless, skinless chicken breasts, sliced very thinly

1 glug extra virgin olive oil

1 quart chicken stock

2 cans light unsweetened coconut milk (believe me, it's plenty rich)

1 stalk lemongrass (peel off the top layers, chop it in three inch bits, then plan to fish it back out)

1 jalapeno pepper, diced

2 Tablespoons fish sauce

2 Tablespoons curry powder

1 clove garlic

1 teaspoon turmeric

2 limes, juiced

1 package Trade Joe's rice noodles

Ginger, about six thin slices (peel it, as the skin comes off in cooking even if you skim it out)

Cilantro and basil, just for a fun little herb garnish

1 cup mixed veggies, such as carrot, spinach and/or mushrooms

Warm the olive oil in a soup pot and cook the chicken strips in batches, just a minute or so on each side. Place cooked chicken on a plate close by. Once the chicken has been cooked, add the chicken stock to the pot and scrape up the yummy bits, then add the coconut milk, ginger, a clove of garlic, the jalapeno (however much you can handle, a whole pepper makes it nice and hot), fish sauce, curry powder, turmeric, and the lime juice. Simmer for a little while the flavors get friendly. Add the carrots now, if that's your thing.

Return the cooked chicken to the pot, and add the rice noodles. Simmer some more while those noodles get soft, and taste as you go (with a clean spoon, duh) to make sure you have the flavors right.

Serve in big bowls with big spoons. Cilantro and basil are fun on top. It's comfort food without the gravy. Enjoy! :)

Legacy Leaver

2010-01-04T19:50:00.001-08:00

Holly is becoming nothing more than a glorified list-maker, you say. Well, you are right. But I will plunge onward. Substance by damned!

Behold! Helpful Tips from around the House, Volume 1/Generic Post Titles Volume 300:

1. Before opening a can of ______, wipe the dust off the top by swirling the can on your back pocket. When I was about twelve, I asked my mom why she always "buttdusts", and she was bewildered. This doesn't happen to my mom. Then she told me my grandma used to do the same thing, and that it is probably genetic. But anyway, try this. No more lint in your black beans.
2. Ironing is for the birds. Or chumps. Or people who actually have an ironing board. Here at our house, we throw a wet washcloth in the dryer with our wrinkly apparel and look spiffed up in no time. Five minutes is all it takes!
3. Stuffed up? Feeling crappy? Stand over the bathroom sink with a beach towel over your head, blast the hot water, and pretend you're having a spa experience. I'm telling you, the Group Health Nurse Hotline saved me with this one on Christmas morning.
4. Buy enough underwear (and clothes) so that laundry needs not be done more than twice a month, if that. It's the lap of luxury. Be sure to make space in your closet for the massive piles that will accumulate.
5. Arrange your furniture so that you can store junk behind the couch, armoire, etc. Our linens are packed politely behind our loveseat. It's classy.

It's hard to believe I made it through five whole housekeeping tips. I am really full of wisdom tonight.

And to make this reading worth your while, I present, The Pinching Preacher. From my hometown of Parker, Colorado. Watched repeatedly, the laughter will burn a day's calories.

Melancholia

2010-01-01T22:49:00.000-08:00

There is something about January 1st that ushers in a pesky sense of ennui for me. It's not that I don't love the holidays, and it's not that I'm really sad they're over, either. I just get really, really lonely, like I've finally become friends with the past year and now I'm moving away.

We've been shuffling through our house these last two days with a combination of relief and exhaustion--just five days of Christmas travel wore us out! But even through the mopes, I can look back on 2009 and see many happy moments. More exciting though (I hope), is my newfound determination to create a Bucket List. No time like the present, eh?

1. Take a cooking class in a foreign country.

2. Share a meal with a famous person who doesn't know I know she's famous (stalking?).

3. Explore the vast variety of Christian traditions... read more.

4. Visit a monastery (see #3).

5. Live in a place where I am a minority.

6. Give away 30% of my income for an entire year.

7. Float in the Dead Sea.

8. Own a Burberry trench coat.

9. Write a book about food and childhood.

10. Learn the rules of soccer so that I may teach my children.

11. Name a child after someone I love.

12. Sew a quilt for my mom.

13. Participate in mental health care advocacy.

14. Find my perfect lipstick color.

15. Appreciate the texture of my hair.

16. Figure out how to make my money grow.

17. Run a 5K. Alone.

18. Run a 10K. With Dustin.

19. Vacation with friends.

20. Care for a foster child.

21. Attend a benefit gala for a museum.

22. Volunteer at big city library.

23. Grow chard with great success.

24. Learn about metabolism.

25. Wear short hair.

26. Appreciate my nose.

27. Knit a baby blanket.

28. Drive a vintage Mercedes.

29. Swim across a lake.

30. Celebrate a 50th wedding anniversary.

I'll keep you posted on how many I can check off in 2010, but I'm hoping I make tracks...

Last Minute Lovin'

2009-12-19T16:58:00.001-08:00

I have completely blown through my Christmas money already (even some that I'm hoping will come in the mail next week), but in case you need to do some last minute shopping, here are some goodies that make me pitter patter.

Charley Harper Prints, hold me back. And they are sold by his adoring son, so it's a family business kind of thing.

(Giant-looking) towels by Amy Butler. In the words of Rachael Ray, YUM-O. Fabric designer gone gazillionaire.

I love Rex Ray because he might be the only artist whom I discovered while he was still alive. And his art is psychedelic and friendly at the same time. Five framed postcards hang happily on my wall. Buy his book and learn from his genius.

Oh, and BY THE WAY

2009-12-06T23:26:00.000-08:00

I know I always say BY THE WAY, but really. This time, there are no other words. We live in a darling neighborhood. I love it, but it's sometimes a thoroughfare for some, ahem, unsavory characters. And finally, the other day I was gutsy enough to document this fact for you, my lovely readers.

If you look closely enough, you'll see a very long pair of legs. These legs are wearing fishnet stockings. And yes, they are painted on the front of a minivan. Now I am not about to let some creep find this blog through a Google expedition for yuck-ville, so I will attempt to explain in code. Ahem.

There are certain "establishments" in our fair city, and in yours, no doubt, that tend to be open the opposite hours of a breakfast joint. With me? This "establishment" typically employs "very old, wrinkly, hairy women" to keep the company of other very old, wrinkly folk. Sometimes keeping company means the use of a large firepole. Got it?

So. Now that you now what I'm talking about, and now that we have avoided any creepy internet wanderers, I want you to know that this minivan is parked across from our driveway EVERY single morning. And it's not just this one, there's also a pink one. And every day, they back right into that garage door and unload who knows what. I CANNOT FATHOM. Dollar bills, perhaps? Dead bodies?

Either way, it creeps me out. And it also creeps me out that the man who usually drives up in these fishnet-painted minivans likes to walk his chihuahua down the alley all the live-long day.

Since it is the season of wonder, I invite you to share your own conspiracy theories about what in the world could be happening here. Just don't give us away--type in code.

Keep Yourselves Busy

2009-12-06T23:00:00.000-08:00

This is what I look like as I emerge from my iPhone-laden cave in the morning. Boo!

A frightening thought crossed my mind the other day: how many hours do I spend sitting and staring at a computer every day? At first I was thinking, well, probably five. But when I got really honest with myself, I spend many hours at work on the computer, and then GOBS more time online once I get home! And as much as I enjoy reading, cooking, eating (duh) and adventuring around Seattle, I am still itching to check my email, see what's flashing on the Seattle Times, and read up on la vida de Dooce.

The natural reaction for me was to feel really guilty and depressed about the ways I am SUCH a child of this techy generation (I think maybe I'm a Catholic, deep down), but then I got over it and realized it would be way more fun to give you all ideas about how we can waste time together.

And without further adieu, places you should visit...

1. Stuff Christians Like is pretty much the pillar of my world right now. Sweet relief.

2. This girl, Annie, who used to sing at our church, is good friends with some friends of friends, is a really wonderful blogger (and singer!). She's worth reading up on, and don't just put her in your reader because the paisleys on her site are delicious.

3. Don't take this the wrong way, but if you haven't been to Chowhound yet, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? Nebraska? (Hi Mom!) Articles detailing the importance of how to hold one's wine glass and the true repercussions of arriving late for a coveted reservation are enough to keep my Comcast bill very, very high.

4. Obviously, read my friends in the blog roll. That goes without saying, but I have uniquely gifted friends, if I do say so myself.

5. Mighty Girl is so stinking cool. If I lived in San Fran, it's possible I would stalk her. She is friends with Dooce, she wrote a book, her kid has a cute name, and she gets paid to shop online. Also, her hair is fiery red, and it is huge. Hair this awesome happens to be my goal in life.

6. Oprah, as in every other area, dominates in the cool website category. The recipe section is awesome, as are the endless pictures of Suze Orman looking like a wild banshee. And Lordy, the gift guides.

I also love Rotten Tomatoes, Anna Maria Horner, and the hometown newspaper from where I grew up.

And while I'm babbling away here, purposelessly, I should tell you that the perch on my couch allows a fabulous view of the Christmas/holiday/whateveryouwant tree atop the Space Needle and I am smitten.

Channeling Anne Lamott: Things (Hypothetically) Overheard While Working at a Church*

2009-12-01T19:50:00.000-08:00

WARNING: May contain high levels of Christian cynicism and/or irreverence. Do not proceed unless you're in a light mood. I like my job, I love it, even, and the people I work with are great. They just have a mysterious lingo that needs to be ribbed.

1. "What is your growing edge?"

Translation: What are your weaknesses? How do you avoid looking like a loser in the workplace when you've make a huge mistake? OR Do you doubt God's existence? How much so? Would you admit that to a congregant?

2. "Why don't you speak into that a little bit?"

Translation: You didn't explain your point very clearly, so can you please be more articulate?Get to the point.

3. "I don't feel called to participate/The congregant didn't feel called/The elders didn't feel called..."

Translation: There's not enough money in the world to lead me back to the hell of bulletin-stuffing. Get a life.

4. "God put it on my heart."

Translation: I can't get this out of my mind, and although it sounds obsessive, I need to talk about this again.

5. "How can I pray for you?"

Translation: You look awful. Awfully tired, or pale, or worn out, or uninterested in responding to emails about marriage licenses and Baptism Sundays in June.

6. "You shared _______."

Translation: You spoke/told me about/reported/explained ______ in an especially spiritual tone of voice.

7. "God has a plan in all of this."

Translation: Wow. You really blew your budget. But I have a feeling there will be some good promos at Target this month, and if we time the announcements correctly, maybe we can rake in some extra cash to cover those Christmas decorations.

8. "I spent some time in the Word."

Translation: I brag about the fact that I spent time reading the Bible because more often than not I forget to do it, or I hit snooze, or I fall asleep mid-parable.

9. "This is God's Will."

Translation: There is no good reason that your child got cancer, you were fired after 40 years of service, or that racism keeps digging its heels into our community. Life sucks, and all we have is the glimmers of goodness that point us back to Someone Bigger.

10. THE CHRISTMAS SHIP JUST SAILED BY MY HOUSE. AS I TYPED. CHRISTMAS SHIP TRUMPS ALL! :)

*In no way does this post reflect the views of the church I work for, or the people who work there, or the level of sincerity in their collective expressions of faith. They're legit.

Better and Worse

2009-10-28T16:04:00.000-07:00

I ran across this old G-chat in a search today (hold that thought--isn't it creepy that our conversations are saved?), and I thought I'd share. Nothing groundbreaking, but I think it illuminates what our friends and family have known all along, and especially during that hellaciously fun period known as engagement--OPPOSITES ATTRACT. And don't worry, we won the contest. :)

March 2008...

me: yoohoo?

what's your social security number?

Dustin: hi

why do you need to know?

me: for the waiver thingie

Dustin: ehm

me: for the invite contest

Dustin: i don't understand why they need to know tho

me: i don't know

i think it's legit

weddingbee is the sponsor

Dustin: even so... what could they need it for

me: i don't know

Dustin: i just feel like if we don't need to give it to them, we shouldn't

... maybe i'm paranoid

me: dustin it's part of the contract

Dustin: :-/

me: they have a lawyer

don't make that face at ME! :)

Dustin: :)

me: <3

Dustin: i just would like to ask them if it's really necessary

me: oh my GOSH

we are going to be ELIMINATED unless we get it in by 9:00am

Dustin: Holly, it just doesn't seem like something i'd want to take a chance on

me: well they already have mine

Dustin: i don't mind telling you what it is... don't you feel like it's sketchy at all?

me: no, i really trust weddingbee (they have contests like this all the time, from really reputable companies like vera wang)

Dustin: i'm sorry for asking about it... i just don't hand it out ... especially for a contest like this when it doesn't seem like they'd need it

me: fair enough

i totally understand your suspicions

i thought of it too, but i decided all things pointed to legitimacy. i mean it's FREE INVITATIONS

Dustin: johnny was talking about how he was almost gypped and the whole process seemed so screwy and far-fetched, i couldn't believe that he came so close to losing TONS of money!

me: we're not giving them any money though. maybe i'll just leave that question blank.

Being my mother's daughter

2009-10-03T21:58:00.001-07:00

It's taken nearly twenty years, but I have finally caught the bug my mom has always tried to give me--SEWING. Now it may sound a little unexciting to you, this novel idea of stitches and thread and fabric, oh my! But folks, let me tell you something. This is big. Because I have just found a new hobby, and I have the world's greatest link to that hobby in my super-connected-quilting-editor mother. This means my new hobby is subsidized!

Please enjoy the following snapshots of creative chaos. Dustin is loving the trail of threads and lack of time spent together. Ha! Just kidding. He's egging me on, every minute. Most minutes.

Pile of scraps, airmailed by la madre. Grazie!

Favorite small child, joining in creative expression.

Tadah! New pillow. Lumpy corners.

Future baby blanket? I think yes! Perfect? I think not!

I'm a sewing MACHINE. :)

A Letter to Our Landladyfriend

2009-09-08T19:45:00.000-07:00

Ahoy!

I was just thinking of you this morning (and every other time I squeegy, ha!), and I'm so glad to hear from you. The shower is holding up great. There is no soap scum, and we are keeping it that way. Dustin says hello from the couch. He has a hard time getting off it when the view is so good.

Just kidding, he's been working very hard to set up his new class, and it's looking awesome. It almost feels like I'm reading People Magazine when I hear the stories from his world. Ridiculous. On the other hand, I love People Magazine and cannot resist its juiciest news. So it's kind of nice. Cheaper than the movies.

Tell us more about Moldova the Beautiful! We have been telling everyone that it's not a city in Switzerland, like they/we might have thought. This picture was taken when someone looked at me and said, Uh-huh. I know.

Everything is great here. There was a man eating from our dumpster yesterday morning and it made us sad (and confused and angry at the state of the world), but we do love the ways city life keeps us thinking and compassionate. It's a crappy tradeoff, that we think and he's still hungry. But we're doing what we can. Pick up some European pastries for us.

Hugs!

H&D

As We Clutch, As We Circle

2009-08-27T23:26:00.000-07:00

From Kelly Corrigan's essay, "Transcending: Words on Women and Strength"

We will call and say “I heard the news” and whatever the news is, we will come running, probably with food...Eventually, someone who is not supposed to die will, maybe one of us, maybe a husband, God forbid a child, and all this celebrating and sharing and confessing will make certain essential comforts possible. We’ll rally around and hold each other up and it won’t be nearly enough, but it will help the time pass just a hair faster than it would have otherwise. We will wait patiently and lovingly for that first laugh after the loss. When it comes, and it will come, we will cry as we howl, as we clutch, as we circle. We will transcend, ladies. Because we did all this, in that worst moment, we will transcend.

I Realize I'm a Lazy Blogger

2009-07-26T13:17:00.001-07:00

But people, why write when you can cut and paste stuff this classic?

http://stufffchristianslike.blogspot.com/2009/02/500.html

The laughter and cringing both come in waves, beware.

Also, THIS!

2009-06-28T22:32:00.001-07:00

Hoping for a Facebook Friend in This Guy

2009-06-28T22:12:00.000-07:00

Tonight at church we honored (yet another) staff person who was being laid off--Allen Belton. He directed a Reconciliation and Mentoring Program and collaborated with other urban ministries throughout Seattle. John Perkins sent him a farewell message, along with at least five other famous/cool people. So he's a pretty big deal. :)

Anyway, there was a really lovely moment at the end of the service, all about warm and fuzzy spiritual matters, and then we headed upstairs to chow down on BBQ. Delish. The Gospel Choir (what I like to call the Soul of UPC) got up to sing, and it was a clappity, happity party. And through the crowd I saw a homeless man, who had probably come in for dinner, since that's what happens every other Sunday night, and he was BEAMING. Bopping his head, grinning. He kept turning his head to stare out at the crowd (at least 500 people, packed), and he just smiled the biggest rickety smile!

So in that moment of warm and fuzzy spirituality, I suddenly realized that the warm fuzzies were contagious, and that this man who may not feel all that welcome in most places he walks, he felt a little bit of joy singing along with us tonight. He was part of the crowd, the laughing, clapping, bopping crowd that hummed and sang. And it was all in celebration of one man's life work and the joy he brought to our community. The zest that sometimes lacks in place that is in and out Presbyterian. So Allen, for all the times you called me Sister Harris, for all the times you broke in SONG, for all the ways you have showed UPC another corner of the world, and for all the disenfranchised people you welcomed in when the rest of us looked away, I'll sure miss you.

I Know I am, I'm sure I am

2009-06-18T15:10:00.000-07:00

About a year before we got married (two years ago? really?), I told Dustin that I really wanted something that our family could latch onto together--a hobby, a sports team, a vacation destination, whatever. Growing up in the Harris house, we were pretty into college football, but then my brother wasn't that interested in it, and by high school it seemed to have peetered out. No longer a weekly "gather round" event.

So when I say I wanted something for Dustin and I to latch onto, I meant something along the lines of... our firstborn will come home from the hospital sporting a t-shirt from said obsession and will, later in life, want personalized license plates boasting "This is my thiiiiing." Get it?

All I can say is this: Be careful what you wish for. Because we (read: Dustin) have become so thoroughly attached to the Seattle Sounders FC, life literally has more meaning since the Inaugural Game on March 19. And I wasn't so sure it would be something I could love forever, but now that I've had three months to get the hang of it, I can proudly sing along:

I'm Sounders 'til I die,
I'm Sounders 'til I die,
I know I am, I'm SURE I am,
I'm Sounders 'til I die!

Here's what makes it so much fun...

We get to have an outing at least twice a month that is something besides a movie.

We get to hang out with some of our favorite friends!

We see famous people and their cute children.

We get to spend two hours screaming at the top of our lungs with 30,000 other people. Who also live and breathe Sounders love.

So it's not exactly what I expected, and it's certainly not what I know best, but being a Sounders fan has become something that is so cathartic, so community-oriented and SO much fun, I don't think I'll ever give it up. We have officially found Our Thing.

Fuuuuuunny

2009-06-18T14:50:00.000-07:00

Target Women

2009-06-15T15:44:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I love Sarah Haskins more than words can say. Delight.

Learning, Learning

2009-05-31T21:41:00.000-07:00

May was Bike to Work Month in Seattle. The Cascade Bicycle Club sponsors this big hoopla--t-shirts and water bottles and smack-talking online forums--and I unwisely volunteered to captain a team at work. Have you met me? Have I met me? This was extremely out of character. Not the captain (boss!) part, but the part about, um, exercise. BLECH. I hate to exercise! Who wants to exercise when you can be reading cookbooks? Or watching The Biggest Loser?

Each team member is required to make the trek to work on two wheels at least five times during the month. Today is May 31...I made three trips. Pa.the.tic. But I did make three whole trips, which is something. It's progress, right? And now I will share with you, fellow butterballs, the massive list of excuses I concocted this month. Chow down.

May 1: It's too hot (high of 75).
May 2: It's too rainy.
May 3: I hopped in the car and didn't even think about biking until I got to work! Oops!
May 4: My asthma is really flaring up today.
May 5: I couldn't remember the combo to my bike lock.
May 6: It's the day before my birthday.
May 7: It's my birthday!
May 8: I'm recovering from my birthday.
May 9: My husband broke my bike lock.
May 10: The trail has sooooo many bumps in it from all those rooty trees.
May 11: Crime is up in the U-District.
May 12: I don't know where to park my bike at work.
May 13: My team will carry us (this happened, because we won the contest).
May 14: My team will not notice (this did not happen).
May 15: Flat tire!
May 16: I'm running late.
May 17: I RODE TO WORK! Dustin dragged me to work on Friday night. This counts.
May 18: Helmet hair is not appropriate for volunteer interviews.
May 19: I'm heading straight to my therapist after work.
May 20: My husband needs a ride home.
May 21: I'm bringing cookies to the office, and they'll get squished in my messenger bag!
May 22: My messenger bag is missing the cross strap.
May 23: It's too hot (high of 70).
May 24: Cramps.
May 25: I might be pregnant.
May 26: I am so traumatized by that pregnancy scare.
May 27: I feel guilty that it's the end of May, but not guilty enough to ride.
May 28: I RODE TO WORK! And it actually felt incredible.
May 29: I RODE TO WORK AGAIN! Got v. sunburned.
May 30. Sounders game.
May 31: Helping friends move=biking failure.

Here's to grand delusions!

A Personal Matter

2009-05-08T22:43:00.000-07:00

Today I was eating a popsicle on the patio at PCC in Fremont, just loving the fact that my job on Fridays includes exactly that sort of thing. Popsicles. And small children.

My darling Gabs, who turned two on Saturday, was sitting on my lap when I felt the need to, um, break a little wind. I figured there were lots of people walking by chatting, cars vrooming past, dogs barking, and the usual Fremont hubbub of activists and clipboards. No one would notice my indiscretion.

So lo and behold, the child hears my (very minor, very ladylike) toot, and says, "Ooooooh, Holly. Poopy! Poopy diaper! Change your diaper, Holly!" And she is not at all timid in screaming these accusations. The kid is loud. And she isn't a mumbler either, every single bike commuter within earshot turned to look.

Of course I chuckled along and said, "Gee! What a bummer. You have to walk all the way home with a poopy diaper. BUMMER."

She looks at me, sees straight through my cover story, and scoffs, "SICK."

Not that I'm opening that can o' worms again...

2009-04-26T21:56:00.000-07:00

If I were to plan another wedding, this J.Crew confection would be the first one I'd try.

Goodbye, Sweet House

2009-04-17T23:36:00.001-07:00

My parents closed on the sale of our house in Parker this week. But the new owners are really cute--young newlyweds, just like us! :)

Farewell, 11602 Sagewood Lane. Thanks for the memories.

Hungry?

2009-04-16T21:47:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite Seattle food blogs is called All You Can Eat, written by Seattle Times' Nancy Leson. It's, forgive me, delicious. She's almost always teasing me with some new restaurant review, an almost-simple-enough-that-it's-possible recipe, or a warm, fuzzy human interest story that involves donuts and rollie pollie children.

Today Nancy posted about something I'm, here I go again, going to chew on a bit. (Bunny trail alert: I blame the incessant punnery on Susan Boyle, the woman who has inspired every cliche in my soul to rise up and SEIZE THE DAY.)

Said chewing is on a project via The United Way, called the Hunger Challenge. The goal is to eat all three meals on $7 each day--salt and pepper don't count, but every other item does. You can't use any items already stocked in the pantry, fridge or sock drawer.

The $7 daily max (only $12 for two-person households) is based on the daily value of food stamps for Washington residents. Yeah, not much. I couldn't believe it either.

So I'm thinking about taking this challenge, and of course, Nancy's blog gives a bunch of great ideas for how to follow the other rules--include protein, fresh veggies and fruit, and refuse any food "gifting" from family, friends, or the guest chef at Metropolitan Market (like you'll even go near that place on the $7 diet).

Any takers? :)

Evidence That Demands a Verdict*

2009-04-15T08:04:00.001-07:00

Last night I cleaned out the deep, dark recesses of my deep, dark purse. There was one witness, my husband. This is what he saw.

1. Receipts from Target, Target, J.Crew, my therapist (ha! they don't give receipts, silly), Metropolitan Market, Safeway, Target, Thai Tom, and Ten Pachi Hair Salon. Speaks volumes.

2. One ham sandwich, from yesterday, mind you, but still. A ham sandwich in my purse. I am a bag lady.

3. An apple. To match sandwich, obviously.

4. Take-out menu from Cedars.

5. At least five wrappers from the green tea echinacea lozenges I've been sucking down this week. SO good. It's my favorite thing about sick.

6. More receipts from Target, this time for returns (see #1).

7. Random checkbook.

8. Two phones--one working iPhone, one nonworking Razor.

9. Three earrings and one rhinestone, costume-like necklace. From a certain Cinderella costume at, ahem, Halloween.

10. Church bulletins from two very different churches.

11. Samples of Cetaphil Face Wash, Purpose Daily Cleanser, and Aquaphor. Somebody loves her some dermatology office!

12. Two letters, both stamped and addressed. From two weeks ago.

13. Pen I took from J.Crew the day I spontaneously applied to work at the new Crewcuts. Pen was taken after I told the hiring manager that I "already have a real job." Shining moment. They have yet to call.

14. One size four diaper. You JUST NEVER KNOW. The nanny in me never dies.

15. Four balled-up kleenexes.

16. Key to Kelsey's old car.

17. Key to Kelsey's new car.

18. Key to Brittany's house.

19. My 2009 to-do list (many items already checked, surprisingly!).

20. My favorite hot-pink MAC Lipglass.

Take the clean-purse challenge, folks. Now tell me what you find!

*Obviously I am making a biblical allusion. Or at least one to annoyingly titled Christian literature. Get with it.

Ayayay

2009-03-23T20:41:00.001-07:00

If the world would stop abusing children, I'd be okay with that.

If people would drive less aggressively, I'd be okay with that.

If we could all be given one hour a day to appreciate art without interruption, I'd be okay with that.

If I could overcome my aversion to classic literature, I'd be okay with that.

If blogging meant I was a real live writer and I was eligible to camp out at the Hugo House and smoke cigars, I'd be really okay with that.

If I didn't make mistakes in friendship, I'd be okay with that.

If cancer didn't eat up families and plans and dreams, I'd be okay with that.

If schizophrenia didn't paralyze people with untapped potential, I'd be okay with that, too.

If I could refrain from crying during Oprah, or refrain from admitting I like Oprah, I'd be okay with that.

If I could have a limitless shopping spree at Costco, I'd be extremely okay with that.

If I made an appearance on Jay Leno as a very popular guest, I'd be okay with that.

If I understood all the literary allusions I came across in NYTimes Op-Eds, I'd be okay with that.

If I could have my mom's strawberry cake and eat it, too, I'd be okay with that.

If I could have a wee babe right now and not be at all interrupted, I'd be okay with that.

If I could make sure that all the people I love are within walking distance from my house, I'd be okay with that.

See? I'm not hard to please. I'm okay with a LOT of stuff.

Run! Quick-like!

2009-03-10T18:15:00.000-07:00

Kelsey's not a frequent blogger, but when she does, 'tis worth reading.

I Blame My Mother

2009-03-03T08:45:00.000-08:00

Today, in approximately one hour, I will be heading to work with a large hole in my pants.

You might think that (FINALLY) being a post-college employee of a decently respectable establishment, I'd have motivation to fix said hole (which, to complicate matters, resides right below my buns). But strangely, I do not. In fact, I just took a seat on my bed and looked at the pant options before me. And I spent ten whole minutes thinking about whether or not I could potentially walk up stairs in front of someone important enough to get me fired for wearing holey pants. And then I decided that if the risk were too great, I would simply use a different set of stairs. And I imagined how I would have to walk in order to disguise this hole.

Holly, you're saying, GET A GRIP. Go fix your pants. But what you don't know is that I have at least five other items I wear frequently, very frequently, that also need some sort of repair. My friends know a creamy little cardigan that has missed his fourth button since before I got engaged (looooong ago), and every time I wear it, I think, Whelp! Guess that button's still missing! Let's pretend that happened on the way to ________. Tallyho!

So there is nothing left to do but blame my mother. Most children of obsessed quilters (that's flattering, believe me) manage to inherit some crafty skills, or at least learn how to SEW A BUTTON. My mom was a short-order seamstress. Mom, can you make me new curtains? Mom, can you sew me a purse? Mom, can you make thirty-five custom makeup bags for my bridesmaids? And thus, I never learned. Not for her lack of trying, but why cook when the chef's already in the kitchen?

So today I am going to grow up and get my raggedy old wardrobe to the tailor. Mom, the USPS says it's coming by Friday.

Recently Asked Questions (aka Finslippy Junior)

2009-03-01T22:08:00.000-08:00

How is your new job going so far?
Well, I really love it. That's the short answer. The long answer is that I love it so much I am compelled to be very insecure about things like my WPM rates and whether or not I remember how to find the meaning of the universe using Excel formulas. In Vista. Even though we don't even use Vista. Basically, I always doubt myself when I'm learning something new--I somehow expect perfection of myself from Day One, and I incessantly obsess over things like, "If I don't figure out how to format this letterhead by the time my lunch break rolls around, I AM GOING TO GET SACKED! Eek!" I know this is ludicrous, but it's just one many areas that I'm realizing, "Holly, go ahead and feel okay about yourself. It's alright. You paid your dues in junior high. MOVE ON."

What's marriage like for you, you young, naive thing?
I hate to use words like this, because I somehow think people might misunderstand me as an unloving, not-that-into-her-husband kind of wife, but I'd say being married is mysterious. And complicated. And very, very rich. All words that can carry lots of subtext, but in this case, it's good subtext. We have some sweet mentors who always remind us that conflict, and the subsequent gobs of conversation we tend to have, is a sign of excellent health. According to Those Two, it's a sign that we're already wrestling with the stuff that's going to root us in the habit of Marriage Maintenance. Don't be jealous of that crafty label, I already submitted in to Les and Leslie's "Naming Our Inimitable Marriage Conferences Contest". And don't think we have lost all our youthful spark--just tonight Dustin tried to put Girl Scout Cookies down my shirt.

Do you remember any grammar rules whatsoever? Is Grammar Girl ashamed she ever let you interview her?
Obviously I remember nothing. I am a failed subject. Because I write cliches constantly. And I nearly stumbled on some SUBJECT-VERB agreement last week. And I couldn't remember the term I needed...ah...blech...what's is caaaaaalled? Oh. A modifier. Thank goodness for Carly, who saved me from an embarrassing 80 invitation error. And thanks for mentioning that interview with Grammar Girl, I something forget about that, THE HIGHLIGHT OF MY LIFE!

What did you eat for dinner tonight?
Mmmm, this, I can confidently say, was a smashing success. Homemade tortillas, roasted tomatoes and sweet corn, marbley steak in an orange and chili marinade, and Crystal Light. (It can't ALL be from the farmer's market, okay?) It was great. We used cloth napkins and lit candles. Cheaper than Canlis.

How was that trip you took to Mexico? Are you like, addicted to cheesy mission trips or something? You're practically a...nevermind.
I'm not sure why I keep signing up for those thingamabobs, except every time I come home I feel like I've tasted an experience that smacks of humanity--the good, the bad, and the ugly. And somehow, in the midst of connecting with good folk in another language, in another world entirely, I feel small enough to let God be God again. And I need to remind myself of that more often.

Are you willing to continue talking about yourself, for the sake of us, your readers?
Duh. How else will I figure life out?

Lent-ish Thoughts

2009-02-26T15:17:00.000-08:00

Fast from criticism; feast on gratitude.
Fast from worry; feast on joy.
Fast from pressures; feast on prayer.
Fast from fear; feast on faith.
Fast from gossip; feast on praise.
Fast from bitterness; feast on forgiveness.
Fast from doubt; feast on truth.
Fast from self; feast on God.

from a friend's friend from a brochure from a church from Scotland

Wanderlust

2009-02-16T23:24:00.000-08:00

The books currently piled next to my bed include, but are not limited to the following:

Suite Francaise Irene Nemirovsky
Gilead Marianne Robinson (close to that?)
Dreams from My Father That New President
The Jesus I Never Knew Philip Yancey
Time's 2008 recap issue
Let Justice Roll Down John Perkins (a la Susie's baby)

Good reading, no? But have I finished any of them? Hmm, no. And did that stop me from buying three more books this weekend? No. Here's to my new copies of Barbara Kingsolver's The Poisonwood Bible and That Jonathan Guy's Everything is Illuminated. Wish me luck.

Why I'm Becoming a Futbol Fan

2009-02-10T21:18:00.000-08:00

Shhh, it's good news

2009-02-02T09:45:00.000-08:00

Well. After approximately 18 months of complaining about my lack of cool job opportunities, I have finally landed my duh-ream job. It's seriously the best thing that has happened to me since finishing college (well, the marriage thing, but I consider this a different category). It's a little familiar to me, as I've volunteered with the program before, but I imagine it will be the most stretching, gratifying, fun job I could have dreamed up. I anticipate small purply pink clouds twinkling above my desk, all day long.

But I'm feeling a bit sheepish, and I feel a little guilty for "getting my way", so to speak, when there are so many people who are getting the pink slip all around me. In fact, when I run into someone who's listened to my plight (WHY GOD, DO ALL THE OTHER ENGLISH MAJORS FIND SUCCESS? WHY NOT ME? WHY???), nobody is as excited to talk about it as I am. Granted, I have felt great support, I don't mean anybody's openly rolling their eyes (though they might when I leave)--I just expected everyone to be as moved as I am.

So I'm realizing... My new job is not as exciting to other people as it is to me. (Probably because there is no elaborate party to follow involving food and happy tears and a white dress. That was way cooler.) Even though I knew this and could occasionally admit it before now, leaving college without having some sort of immediate success threatened my identity in ridiculous ways. I had so much self-doubt--everybody had always showed me The Path I should take. Get good grades? Of course! Behave? I'd love to! Listen to your parents about money and drugs and insurance policies? Obviously! Graduate college with a degree you'll pursue passionately? Check! But, um, what's next?

And it was the first time that the world didn't hand me a shiny blue ribbon. Aaaaaaand it was shocking.

Here on the flip side? It's embarrassing to have been defined by all that. But in the end, could I have known any better? Probably so. Will I spend my entire frickin' life trying to know my true identity, the one that's rooted in the love of Jesus and caring about justice and the gristle of being a survivor? Probably so.

More Serious Blogging...

2009-01-30T21:50:00.001-08:00

Putting the final touches at a polling station in the southern city of Basra, Iraq. Iraqis will vote in provincial elections on Saturday, the country's first vote since 2005.
--via nytimes

In the Spirit of Shallow Blogging

2009-01-30T08:35:00.000-08:00

I give you...Anti-Theft Lunch Bags

Mmmm. Go get some.

via design*sponge

Happy Birthday Husband

2009-01-29T11:59:00.001-08:00

And by the way...

2009-01-23T11:20:00.000-08:00

I have a thought about the presidential hoopla. Doesn't it seem a little disingenuous for all of the white, twenty-something, middle class kiddos to be so MOVED? I get that it's tremendous, I get that we are living history, and I am here to say that I am JUST AS PUMPED.

But really? We're just now proud to be Americans? He didn't freakin' invent the Constitution, people. Or the idea that man deserves, um, freedom. And hey, has anybody ever heard of the United States Postal Service? If you can't be proud of that, then I don't even know what to say. The ability to mail a letter, with an opinion, or a check, or a report card, or profession of love, for less than a dollar? That sounds democratic. That sounds American. You know it.

I am just as swept up in the grandeur of this season, and I cried on election night with everybody else. But I'm a little sick of people making it about their own patriotism, when in reality, we are not the ones who sacrificed to make this possible. We voted, we held a little piece of the puzzle and gave bits and pieces to make it happen. But I don't think hope means much without humility. Where's the humble pie, already?

I Need a Kick Start

2009-01-23T08:03:00.000-08:00

I'm looking for a cheap fix to my month-long writer's block, and I have two possible options. First, I'd like to discuss what's on your checklist of favorite websites to pop in to, more than just the blogs (since I can see those for myself on your OWN blog). I sometimes marvel at how much time I can spend gouging my eyes out with People.com, and then am even more amazed at the number of times I reference it throughout the day.

It's humiliating, but in this strange way that somehow still feels worth it.

So, here ya go. All the stops I make...in no particular order. ;)

*Facebook

*NYTimes (the headlines, food section, and the "Most Emailed" list)

*SeattleTimes

*Dooce

*Idealist.org (hopefully not for long!)

*Feministing (but frankly, I have to do this in moderation, because I'm not quite that liberal...yet)

*People

*GalaBent.com/blog

*Momversation

*Etsy

*Design*Sponge

*Chow Foods

*MTV to watch back episodes of The Hills (v. embarrassing)

Okay, now dish. Where do you go when you need some junk food for your cerebral cortex?

Love the Rug

2009-01-12T11:56:00.000-08:00

angela adams via designsponge

What I've Been Up To (In Life Thus Far)

2009-01-09T09:35:00.000-08:00

Bold is where I've boldly gone, as of 2008, aged 23.

1. Started your own blog

2. Slept under the stars

3. Played in a band

4. Visited Hawaii

5. Watched a meteor shower

6. Given more than you can afford to charity

7. Been to Disneyland

8. Climbed a mountain

9. Held a praying mantis

10. Sang a solo

11. Bungee jumped

12. Visited Paris

13. Watched a lightning storm at sea

14. Taught yourself an art from scratch

15. Adopted a child

16. Had food poisoning

17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty

18. Grown your own vegetables

19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France

20. Slept on an overnight train

21. Had a pillow fight

22. Hitch hiked

23. Taken a sick day when you're not ill

24. Built a snow fort

25. Held a lamb

26. Gone skinny dipping

27. Run a marathon

28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice

29. Seen a total eclipse

30. Watched a sunrise or sunset

31. Hit a home run

32. Been on a cruise

33. Seen Niagara Falls in person

34.Visited the birthplace of your ancestors

35. Seen an Amish community

36. Taught yourself a new language

37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied

38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa

39. Gone rock climbing

40. Seen Michelangelo's David

41. Sung karaoke

42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt

43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant

44. Visited Africa

45. Walked on a beach by moonlight

46. Been transported in an ambulance

47. Had your portrait painted

48. Gone deep sea fishing

49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person

50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower

51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling

52. Kissed in the rain

53. Played in the mud

54. Gone to a drive-in movie theatre

55. Been in a movie

56. Visited the Great Wall of China

57. Started a business

58. Taken a martial arts class

59. Visited Russia

60. Served at a soup kitchen

61. Sold Girl Scout cookies

62. Gone whale watching

63. Got flowers for no reason

64. Donated blood

65. Gone sky diving

66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp

67. Bounced a check

68. Flown in a helicopter

69. Saved a favorite childhood toy

70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial

71. Eaten caviar

72. Pieced a quilt

73. Stood in Times Square

74. Toured the Everglades

75. Been fired from a job

76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London

77. Broken a bone

78. Been on a speeding motorcycle

79. Seen the Grand Canyon

80. Published a book

81. Visited the Vatican

82. Bought a brand new car

83. Walked in Jerusalem

84. Had your picture in the paper

85. Read the entire Bible

86. Visited the White House

87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating

88. Had chickenpox

89. Saved someone's life

90. Sat on a jury

91. Met someone famous

92. Joined a book club

93. Lost a loved one

94. Had a baby

95. Seen the Alamo

96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake

97. Been involved in a law suit

98. Owned a cell phone

99. Been stung by a bee

100. Read an entire book in one day

It's funny how I felt a tad inadequate admitting all the things I haven't done (Never read the entire Bible! Never donated blood! Visited Washington but not the White House!).

But then I look at what I have done, and I guess it's not so bad. I really did save a life once (animal cracker, toddler, Heimlich). Thanks, MaShaw, for the idea.