Wednesday, Still Boring

Ya'll? All this working out and eatting right makes me TYE-RED.
So I've not been updating like I should. AND I've been futzing with the layouts for our wedding album, and after consulting Joyce and Grace - designer GODDESSES that I work with - I believe it's done. And dear lord, am I excited. I think it's going to be beautiful and I want it in my hot grubby little hands

RIGHT

NOW.

But alas, it has to be, well, printed. So it will be a while before I can carry it around EVERYWHERE and make everyone tell me what a pretty pretty princess I was.

Also, I've been longing after a puppy. We passed one the other night on our corner, and there he was in all his cuteness - MY PUPPY, Bosselman. Bosselmann is a French Bulldog and white with black spots. I shall dress him in sweaters and little hats. Here let me show you his ultimate cuteness:

Okay, so I don't get to have a puppy - but if I DID, this would totally be him. And I *would* totally dress him up. And if we get him from a breeder, his full name will be Grandma Max Bosselman, becasue he will have to have three names. Yes, for a boy. Grandma. Shut up. You can name YOUR dog whatever you want.

Well, that covers my life lately, wedding albums, working out, imaginary puppies. How have you been?

Monday

This is an A-typical Monday. Through and through. I woke up feeling awful after having the WORST sleep last night. And since then a million little things have gone wrong.

And, in addition, we got the proof of our wedding album back and it looks awful. Photos we didn't choose huge, photos of our family and friends infinitesimally small. And worse, the photos aren't even in the right order. The ceremony is all cufuggled up. This should not bug me as much as it does - but I was SO looking forward to getting it back. When I opened the link I just got tears in my eyes seeing page after page of wrongness.

I'm not sure how karma is working today, but I'm pretty sure I don't deserve this.

Week Two

I usually weigh myself on Mondays but we're going to a one woman poetry show tomorrow night with James. So I'll be having THAT wonderful experience later. BUT I feel like since I brought it up here, I'd keep you in the loop of the progress.

So far I've lost 2.5" off my waist. I'll let you know 'bout the weight later. I'm only measuring my waist becaseu - honestly? I don't really want to know the rest of my measurements. I prefer to live in a world where that's irrelevant information.

And PS - for those of you keeping track of my hipness, the scale has toppled. I just downloaded the Pussycat Dolls, Justin Timberlake AND Britney to work out to. I've reached pathetic mode. I'd like to think it doesn't count, my owning of these songs as they're strictly for gym use only. Um, yeah. See? Anyway. If any of you, however, have discovered good gym music - send recommendations. Currently a section of my playlist is such ( I apparently no longer need any of you to think I have good taste in music whatsoever):

"Beautiful" - C. Aquilera
"Live Through This" - Groovelily
"Hey Girl" - OAR
"Independent Woman, Pt. 1" - Destiny's Child
"Stronger" - C. Aquilera
"Toxic" - Britney
"Rock Your Body" - Justin (I feel liek I should keep them together in the list, I don't know why)
"Crazy in Love" - Beyonce
"Little Nemesis" - Groovelily
"Extraordinary" - Liz Phair


Someone should analyze that. I am sure it says loads about my personality. None of which I would care to admit.

Blood From a Stone

Family has always been incredibly important to me. Perhaps because I'm an only child. My parents were always amazing, close, protective - they gave me the world, often at great cost to themselves. Throughout, though, their attitude was always "that's just what family does." They showed me that equally with our "found" family. Living thousands of miles from our closest relatives, it was often their close friends that filled the gap of aunts and uncles. I learned early on the title "Uncle" was just as applicable to my father's fellow linebacker and best friend as it was to his brother.

As I got older, I too began to build a found family, who became as precious to me as any blood relative. To this day, these friends are my support and hope and everlasting love.

But the lines that connected me to those who share my blood, my genes, my smile, my eyes - were always precious to me. I see them as an invisible map, tracing paths and routes and roads from one to another, stretching from the past to an indescribable future. I find endless fascination in how I can stand with my feet pointed out, just like the grandmother I never knew long enough to remember. Or how I can so resemble my Nana - she captured forever smiling at nineteen, me laughing so familiarly at 31. So much connects us we cannot name.

I dance with cousins' baby and marvel at how like my long-lost-to-me Papa he is, or laugh at my father and how very much he resembles photos taken of his father half a century ago. What else entwines us? How amazing is it that we have these amazing similarities, reaching out across our families - a cobweb of smiles and postures. Of vernacular and sarcastic remarks. Of eyes and hands, style and song. What runs in our blood that refuses to be lost to time?

Is it the red hair, the easy smiles, the quick tempers? Is it somehow more than that? Are we charged with carrying through what makes us, in essence, our namesakes? Charged with somehow passing that on? And how amazing it must be, to gaze at your child and see in them all the generations that came before.

This river, this running ubiquitous tie that overruns us, pulls and tosses us; forms us in so many ways . . . it is impossible for me to ignore. It places me in a specific moment in time, with so many like me behind and so many before. It makes me want to do them proud. Share my grandmother's smile as often as possible. Learn to dance like my Uncle Larry. Perfect Jack's wink. Carry my Aunt Judy's grace.

Defying Gravity

" . . . Something has changed within me
Something is not the same . . ."

I've been doing a lot of serious thinking about myself, about my life, and why I've been unhappy on a certain level these last couple years. What that's about and how I need to act to dissolve it. It's involved some hard realizations about myself, and some real honest looks at who I've become and what's happened to make me unhappy.

See, I am, overall, delighted with my life. Don't get me wrong. My life is blessed in more ways than I can count. But I still have days tinged with an unnamable sadness. Days when the blue and grey seep in at the edges, and sometimes those colors completely overwhelm me. They drag me down in ways I cannot explain. But its something I will not accept anymore. And I know this reaction I'm having, this dissolution of my normal brightness, if you will, is related to choices I'm making. To things I am doing or not doing. I have to own this, and I am determined to. Which brings me to the serious thinking and evaluating.

And I'm on my way. I'm still searching, still working, but I'm on the right path - I'm getting there. But every once in a while how far I have to go smacks me right across the face. Such was this weekend. We went out to CBGB's for an amazing awesome show. And once there, with our friends, sitting at the bar and chatting I looked around and realized how out of place I felt. How strikingly not okay I felt being there. I became twelve years old on the inside, desperately wanting to go home; change my make-up, change my hair, change my clothes - change me.

I don't know when this happened. When I suddenly felt so insecure with who I am. I don't like it. There was a time in my life when I could go anywhere and feel good. Feel cool enough, good enough, hip enough. Or rather, feel like whatever anyone else thought didn't matter. I was at home in my own skin.

This is what being so sick has taught me. When you fight yourself for so long. When you declare war on yourself - you lose part of yourself. I have spent the last three years dreading the doctor's offices for what they would tell me. Dreading the next round of problems, the next round of diagnosis, the next round of things I could not do like a normal person, the next round of what I came to think of as failure. I was at war with my body, and worse, I was losing.

That struggle, that frame of mind, has cost me much more than a year or two of feeling good. It cost me, in many ways, myself. The me I liked, that felt good and brave and beautiful and daring. I'm trying to find my way back to her. I've rescinded the war declaration. I'm trying to mediate to peace.

And as hard as that is: to relinquish control and accept that some fights I am going to lose, some things I cannot control - I am determined to rise above them. It's not failure anymore to be sick. Its' not my fault and it's not under my control. All I can do is focus all of my energy into being healthy - to raise the white flag and forgive myself for not being as strong I thought I could be. Not let myself be dragged down.

So I will draw, I will paint, I will read, I will learn. I will eat right (as hard as that is). I will move. I will develop strength and get to know myself all over again. I'm ready, finally, to do what it takes. To feel worthy again.

" . . .I'm through with playing by the rules
Of someone else's game
Too late for second-guessing
Too late to go back to sleep
It's time to trust my instincts
Close my eyes: and leap! . . .
I'm through accepting limits
'Cuz someone says they're so
Some things I cannot change
But till I try, I'll never know! . . ."

Go ahead, you know you want to.

Google "Failure."

God, I love those google guys. (And girls!)

CBGB's on a Saturday Night

They're not boys, but they are pretty. And we went to hear them play this weekend. They were fantabulous - as were the bands that played with them. We had a blast. We met a whole crew of friends there and hung out a solid portion of the night - and as a testimment to how smashingly marvelous the music was, I actually made it to stumbling home at 3am. Go figure.

It was The Pretty Boys' CD release party and our friend Doug plays with them. He is, in fact,a boy. But, also, is very pretty. So he meets all requirements for the title. He'll love that I said that. But he and his wife Andrea are possibly some the best people we've met on our stint here in the big apple, and we wouldn't have missed this concert for the world.

It was my first time at the NYC landmark, and it was awesome. The crowd was awesomely diverse, and while I am pretty sure I am not as cool as I should be to go there - we were with some amazing friends and had a blast. And I didn't feel too unhip. I mean, John did wear a suit jacket.

Anyway - good music, good people, good fun. Apparently it's the magical quotient to keep me up past 10pm. Who knew?

Hagan Phillip - A Day Early

Dear Hagan,

Happy First Birthday, Buddy! I hope this year turned out aright for you. I cannot believe it has already been a year. It's strange for me, it seems just yesterday I was calling your mom from my cubicle - asking her if she, if you, were okay. How your daddy was holding up. But it seems now, every time I see you a lifetime has passed. It breaks my heart in a way. You change, you grow, you become a whole new person every time I see you. I know now you've grown worlds since October. I hear you on the phone: talking, laughing. I can hear in your voice you're on the cusp.

The cusp of becoming a little boy. You're very close to not being a baby any longer. I want to freeze time, stop it now - be able to hold you and play with you like this always - you're so damn cute.

But the cool thing is? I always feel like that - and every time I see you next I'm amazed and astonished at how much cooler and wonderful you've become. So, while part of me wants to freeze time, in my heart I can only try to keep pace with you and know that each of these turns, each of these stops, are worth keeping and treasuring for the split second we have them. Because what's coming is only going to be better and brighter and more fun.

More fun. Of course. Always.

And you know, last time I wrote you, I promised you your parents would rock the Kasbah. I was right, huh? Chalk that one up to Auntie Kitty knowing her shit. (Am I allowed to say that still? Probably not. I think we're officially into the "adults have to clean up their language" phase of your development. Hm. Anyway.) You know, when I made that promise, I was just basing it on how great of friends they were. Seeing them this past year with you. Well. They really have outdone themselves. The crazy-good friends they are was only a precursor to the mad-marvelous parents they became. Damn, kid. You're one lucky babe. We share that luck, you and I, getting to have your Mom and Pops in our lives. They'll always be my best friends, I cannot wait to see them grow as parents thru the next years. I have a feeling you'll keep them on their toes.

Oh, and before I go - this year's a doosie. There's walking and dancing and talking. There will be some milestones. Lots more food you can chew and throw. There may be some solid trips on your future, too. Your world will get a bit bigger, this year. No worries, though. Just remember as long as one of us is around, you'll always be safe. And THAT's a lifetime guarantee.

Take care, Boog. I miss you something awful. Pretty soon, I'm hoping you'll get to know me enough you'll miss me too. Selfish, I know. But I'm hoping that's a lesson your Uncle Sam and I can teach in the years to come. Love stretches real real far (stretch our your arms - see that? Bunches of that.) And sometimes, people seem real far away. Don't give in to that feeling. They're, we're, not. We're closer than you think. We always will be. If there's something you can count on, it's that your Auntie Kittie and your Uncle Sam will always be at your beck.

We love you, Spud. And, amazingly, you've got us loving your moms and pops even more than we did before. Thanks for the past year - I wish you nothing but puppies, trucks and cake in the year to come.

See you soon.

Promise.

75 Days

He holds my hand even when it's cold.

He brings me flowers for no reason.

He makes me laugh until I cry. Until I SOB. And I still have giggles trapped in me.



He holds me tighter in the car when we make turns, or stop short.

He dances with me any where, any place. Music or no.



He packs my lunches in the morning and puts them into my Tinkerbell lunchbox, with no sense of irony.

He does the laundry, every week. And never complains about the five flights of stairs he has to climb, or my exorbitant amount of dirty clothes.

He does the dishes.

He squeezes my knee under the table when he knows I find something someone said hurtful.

He knows all my favorite artists, even if they're not his.

He hides notes in my purse telling me he loves me.

He's been to Disney World at least four times in the last couple years, and enjoys it, because my parents and I enjoy it.



He always gets a taxi when I'm tired, even though it's a waste of money.

He never makes me feel like the things I want are a waste of money - even though sometimes they are.

He buys me things like flour sifters and never makes fun of how excited I get.

He never gets sick of me being sick - and pushes me always to never let it hold me back.

He's passionate about whom and what he loves. (Which actualizes many episodes of quiet brewing and yelling at the TV.)



But if I interrupt him during such an episode, he always smiles at me.

He accepts my limitations without diappointment, and plans amazing things for us to do regardless.

Our children will have the most beautiful eyes. And astonishing smiles.

He believes I'm beautiful and makes me feel that it might be true.

He loves my family like they're his own, blood and found.

He takes me to ballgames and always offers to buy me a sundae-in-a-helmet.



When people ask me what I do and I answer with my day job, he always adds "painter."

Every day is like this.



And this.



And this.



And I always feel like this.



I never wanted to be a wife.



Now I know it wasn't that, I just always wanted to be his wife.

First Steps

So I always MAKE the resolutions and then, come the second or third week of January I lose interest, get busy - forget completely I was ever totally psyched about time management, fitness, or prioritizing my goals.

SO, in an effort to make this year the year I overcome that - today I (and Sam, god bless him) begin the Discovery Body Challenge. It's an eight-week program with meal planning and progress-tracking; all that goodness. And while initially setting it up and planning your meals is somewhat intensive - it's totally worth it. I'm not following the exercise program exactly, as I have some pretty specific and major changes I want to make, but the meal planner is awesome. I've always sucked at counting calories and it's nice to have a tool to help me do that.

On the site, Sam and I are the "Aloha Warriors". You can make teams that allow you to go see how everyone progresses and lend support (without having to enter some sort of chatroom with strange people). If you want to join, let me know - I'll send you an invite! If not, regardless, you'll be hearing more about this. I plan to update here on how I'm doing. You know, the whole accountability thing.

That and you can all tell me how slim I look next time you see me. ;)

Would You Trade in Your Life?

This is a great concept, though a little creepy in the execution. . .

http://www.lifeswitch.org/

Resolutions - Everyone's Doin' It

SO this past two years I've spent a lot of time sleeping, or laying, or generally feeling like if I moved at all I might empty out the entirety of my inner organs into the nearest round, washable object. And whle it's increased my ability to pretend everything is quite fine and I feel quite normal despite the pain radiating from my every joint or the feeling I may spew at any moment - it's not been too fun.

And this makes me mad, actually. At myself, at my body - at everything that's just not right. And while I can't FORCE my body to be healthy, and while I know there are some things that are just plain out of my control right now, stuff I have to just trust my doctors to watch over and take care of - I can certainly treat myself better. So that's my resolution.

THIS year? Healthy. I cannot remember the last time I felt good for an extended period of time and that is now my goal. If I feel crappy this year it will be for situations totally out of my control, and even then I'm going down fighting. And I'm not just doing the whole join a gym thing, or cut out chocolate as entire meals. I'm COMMITTING. To HEALTH. Mental, physical, spiritual.

So that means:

1. Regular trips to the gym and actually eating ALL five servings of fruits and veggies everyday.

2. Take time to center myself, to be present in the moment and celebrate all the days I feel and believe are special in ways I have always wished and hoped to.

3. Find books I'm interested in and take the time to sit and enoy them regularly.

4. Start my Urban Saints series of paintings.

5. Learn a new skill - maybe Spanish, maybe Irish Step dancing. I haven't decided. Maybe both.

6. Learn to say "no." and not feel guilty about it. No waiting to cut back until I'm overwhelmed and parsing out hours to live, but just being able to say "Yeah, I don't have time, but thank you. I'm booked doing things that make me happy."

I think that's enough. A good start. I've just reached the point where I know I have a good life - an amazing husband, a beautiful apartment in an awe-inspiring city, a creatively challenging job with fantastic people - and I'm not wasting one more second feeling too tired or too sick to enjoy any of it. I refuse to - and it starts NOW!

2005 - A List, AGAIN

I'd hate to give 2005 the shaft by doing nothing but sing the anticipation and praises of 2006. 2005 was one of my best years ever, and I want to acknowledge that.

It was the year my best friend had her first baby. I waited anxiously by the phone all day and into the night, praying for her and the baby and Phil - and the three of them fought through the madness valiantly. I'll never forget talking to Sarah that next morning. She told me he was beautiful and worth every second - and when I met him for the first time a few weeks later, I saw she was absolutely right. This little guy has captured my heart completely, and Sarah and Phil have shown me firsthand the kind of parent I want to be, the kind of parents Sam and I CAN be. They are the coolest, most patient, wonderful mom and pop. That Hagan, he's got himself a good deal.

I got my first real teaching job this year. First teaching Management Communications and then Marketing and Promotions for Non-Profits. I feel like I learned as much as I tried to convey, and it was a huge opportunity for me to try something I always wanted to do. I drives me crazy, I get anxious, I get nervous, I can't sleep - and then somehow I walk into the classroom and it all comes together. Teaching is something I think I could be really good at, and would like to do "for reals" in the future someday. (i.e. as Job #1, not just on the weekends while trying to juggle another challenging job)

And speaking of challenging jobs, this year my "real" job really had me running. But in a good way. I got a lot more opportunity to shine, and I feel like I did truly well. I wasted not one opportunity. I got a raise, there's talk of perhaps a promotion, and everyday I walk through the door greeted by some of my best friends. It doesn't get much better. We're doing a lot less tobacco work and a lot more work in my target market and I'm having a blast. I look forward to the next year and even knowing all the hard work and long nights to come, I can still say this is the best job I have ever had.

This year I went to Montana for the first time. I got to go see the space of land Sam loves most, and live his best life for a while. I met one of his best friends and the three of us had an absolutely amazing time. I learned to play poker, shot a compound bow, I hiked ten miles and I rode horses (well, even!). I even broke out my easel for the first time in a long, long time. It was a wonderful trip and I cannot wait to go back. Before we left I was nervous as hell. Scared we'd get there and I'd get sick, or not be able to do all the stuff Sam wanted to do. I envisioned myself alone in a cabin miles away from anyone else, no phone, no email, nothing; reading books and feeling left out. I proved myself wrong on all counts and couldn't' have been happier. I can understand why Sam loves it so, and now, much like him, I cannot wait to take our friends and show them how amazing it is. We've already made a deal with James - one tour of Montana for a tour of Kenya.

I turned 31. Which while not monumental means I have officially left my 20's behind. It was with very little fanfare, unlike most other of my birthdays, but it was nice and good and I felt like it was okay. I was always fearful that I'd reach this point and be disappointed in what I had accomplished so far, but, refreshingly it was quite the opposite. I felt like there were only great things ahead and so far I hadn't done too shabby in the "doing something with my life" department. Pretty cool.

Of course, hot on the heels of that birthday was the wedding. Which, I must say, is the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. Aside from the mountains of kindness and generosity showered on us by everyone we love most, aside from the fun and laughter and pumpkins and parties . . .I got to marry the man of my dreams. I sounds trite, I know. But for the last 67 days I have done nothing but feel like the absolute luckiest girl in the world. Our wedding, the ceremony itself, not the dress or candles or party or cake, was the most important and wonderful thing that I've ever done, been part of, been given.









So,2005, please don't feel overlooked. It's because of you I feel such hope and happiness for all the months to come.

Things I Look So Forward To In 2006 I May Burst

1. Ben and Angie are getting Married! Woot!
Sam's brother Ben, whom I adore, is marrying his super-cool lady love, Angie. Sam's a groomsman, I'm a maid, and much fun is about to be had people. MUCH. FUN.

2. Hagan turns One Years Old.
Um, hi. This kid? He's the cutest and he gets a PUPPY PARTY. Where, in a cruel turn of events, he in fact does not get a puppy. Sam and I briefly discussed finding a way to ship him one. 'Cause, you know, Uncle Sam and Auntie Kittie can do things like that. But we can't. Not really. Or Papa Phillip may never, ever, let Hagan VISIT Uncle Sam and Auntie Kittie. So we're waiting until he's five. To buy him his first baby-cita.

3. Alphabit (aka Adeline Bell Compton) is born!!!
Seriously, I can never have my own kid, I shall now be way to busy spending all our money on all the other people's kids. My plan is that Alphabit and Hagan shall one day meet and fall madly in love, thereby consolidating trips to see those I love most. And, in case you're wondering, she IS named after me. Or so I say.

4. Joyce is getting married! To Mark! In Ireland!
And we're SO GOING! *sigh* This rocks, and I cannot begin to say how much. They trekked to Kansas for us, we're totally hopping the pond for them.

5. Disney. In March. With Little Leslie.
Good times garunteed. She and Andy moved away this past fall and are now living the married life in Naples. This is very sad for me, as I miss them very very much. So Sam and I said screw that! New York in March sucks anyway! And we're headed down for a weeekend of much merriment. AND it's Les' birthday. Double bonus.

And last but not least, though I really should try to think of an even ten just cause . . .

HAWAII 2006!

There has been much planning. Much scheming and more than a little impatience. The Schambergers and Stiers shall unite for one blessed week long FAMILY VACATION IN THE TROPICS, and seriously, it doesn't get better than that.

I shall drink only colorful things in glasses involving large fruit and umbrellas. I shall wear a grass skirt AT LEAST once and shall gush over ridiculous things like tiny reptiles and gigantic flowers. And it shall be good.

Very very good.

Happy New Year!

We spent the second-half of our Christmas week with Sam's parents back in New York. They had already done the great and wonderful tourist thing, so it was a nice few days just getting to hang out and visit.

Saturday night, however, we spent New Year's Eve in Times Square.

That's right. TIMES SQUARE. And it was amazing. We got tickets to the Olive Garden's Party, and as cheesy as that sounds, it was spectacular. There was good food, an open bar and dancing. But, best of all, it meant we could spend the night viewing the giant hoards on Broadway in the warm comfort of a restaurant with bathrooms nearby. We sat at a great table and watched as the crowds slowly gathered to the point where there was literally not room for even one more person in the street. And then, at 11:30pm, with streamer-decorated tiaras and top hats proclaiming "Happy New Year!" we headed outside to join them.

And it was, in a pathetic understatement, awesome. We stood, in a crowd of tens of thousands and sang "Imagine" by John Lennon. Tears welled in my eyes as I thought about the hope I felt there. How all these people from these different places could all sing those words, and it seemed maybe things *would* get better. Be better in the new year. And to hear everyone take a breath and join in "You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm nto the only one . . ." - it gave me chills. I get tears in my eyes now just thinking about it.

And then the countdown. Everyone yelling from 10, screaming in joy as the ball dropped, grabbing those close to them and kissing them, hugging strangers and yelling above the din "Happy New Year!" It didn't' matter we had never spoken, in that minute we were all friends - sharing this amazing beginning to a new year. Sharing where they were from, who they were, passing out hugs as if we had all known each other forever.

And then Sinatra's "New York, New York" began to play and before I knew it we were all kicking it up, arms around each other, singing again. And as I turned to look at Sam, his arm around me on one side - his camera snapping pictures with the other, his parents behind us dancing with our new found friends; I felt like the luckiest person in the whole of the world.

"If I can make it there, I'd make it ANY where, it's UP to YOU! NEW! YORK! NEeeeeeewwWWWW YooooooooooooRK! . . . ."


It was the greatest way to spend the beginning of this brand new shiny new year, and an even better way for Sam and I's first New Year's as husband and wife.

Hello, 2006. Awfully glad to meet you. I have a feeling we're going to get along just fine .

MERRY CHRISTMAS

Well, our Christmas week began amazingly. We spent Saturday through Tuesday night with my parents in the Happiest Place on Earth - and more specifically - our favorite parks. Epcot on Christmas day itself, Magic Kingdom the next and to finish it off with true flying colors, the Animal Kingdom the last day.

Most importantly, however, we got to just hang out with my parents for the first time in a year when we weren't planning (or having) a wedding. It was great. We went to all our favorite places in the parks, ate all our favorite meals, (discovered a few new ones) and celebrated the holidays in true Disney/Bell Family fashion. They spoiled us rotten. It was great.

We had such fun. It was like a little mini vacation and was MUCH needed. We arrived at the airport exhausted and feeling much loved. It seems every time we go visit my parents, I end up at the gate crying on Sam's shoulder. I always want the trip to last just a bit longer, I want just a few days more. I miss my mom and dad a lot and the times we get to spend time with them are only getting fewer and far-er between. But with this trip, I truly couldn't ask for more. We had a wonderful, amazing time. And it feels so good to have the four of us hang out as family. It was our first Christmas and it was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Happy Solstice! Merry Yule!

Solstice rites are one of our oldest celebrations, dating back to the dawn of modern civilization some 30,000 years ago. For ancient peoples, the winter solstice was an awesome, mysterious, and powerful phenomenon.

Those of us today who have ever pondered the ramifications of a cataclysmic event such as a "nuclear winter" or the aftermath of a giant meteor impact after some ober-budget blockbuster movie can understand how frightening it must have been to see the sun slip away every fall. Harsh winter conditions and scarce food supplies made survival risky. Vegetation was dormant, migratory birds had long since disappeared to warmer climes, and many animals had vanished into hibernation. As the weeks drew closer to the solstice, it was a time of anxiety over ever-darkening days. What if the sun lost its vigor and never came back? Would light and warmth simply fade away forever? Would the earth be wrapped in eternal night and cold?

But then, magically, the long night would end, the sun would return, and slowly the earth would warm and provide for its people once more.

No one's really sure how long ago humans recognized the winter solstice and began heralding it as a turning point -- the day that marks the return of the sun. But that is what it is - a heralding of light, a joyous reach toward the future and all the beauty and hope it holds. Tonight is for reveling, for rejoicing, for accepting that the dark has passed and the light is slowly creeping in. It *will* return, it has begun to - and we in turn shall find joy in what lies ahead of us.

It's the root of the Christmas traditions - the birth of the sun, the birth of the son. Both stand for a world awakening, rejoicing, finding itself bathed in a blessed light. I hope you all have wonderful, beautiful and hopeful holidays.

Happy Solstice! Merry Yule! Brightest blessings, indeed.

"Shall we liken Christmas to the web in a loom? There are many weavers, who work into the pattern the experience of their lives. When one generation goes, another comes to take up the weft where it has been dropped. The pattern changes as the mind changes, yet never begins quite anew. At first, we are not sure that we discern the pattern, but at last we see that, unknown to the weavers themselves, something has taken shape before our eyes, and that they have made something very beautiful, something which compels our understanding." --Earl W. Count, 4,000 Years of Christmas

Kid Icarus!

That's the name of Sam's new video iPOD. He won it at his company Christmas party and is, to say the least, very excited. (I am insanely jealous, by the way.) He has right to be excited, though, we have had a 40 gig iPOD for a few years now, but - being the only child I am, I refused to share it.

So now he has a new shiny full-color one all his own! He shall soon know the ultimate love of the iPOD owner. This is what he gets for making fun of me all this time! :)

Dear Transit Workers

I know how you feel - I also would like to not pay premiums on my health insurance, retire at 55, and receive an 8% raise every year.

Alas, it's not going to happen. I've learned to live with it and, you know, if I didn't like it - I'd go look for a job that might provide it (good luck with that by the way). I've learned to make the best of my job, and while there are many days I'm sure your job sucks, today my job sucks a bit thanks to you. I want to be more sympathetic, it being Christmas and all, but I really only have one thing to say to you -

SUCK IT UP and go back to work. This madness you're causing right now is just bullshit.

Sincerely,
~m



I realize this sounds harsh, but the issues that are brought up publicly are ones, obviously, I feel should not be sticking points. I would have more sympathy if someone would come out and say "Look, we're working under 'X' horrible conditions and need help." But so far the points I read about are ones I feel like we'd ALL like; that are part of the "ideal" job we all dream about it. But that's just it, it's an IDEAL. I'm not retiring when I'm 55, I know this. I'd LIKE to, but it's not happening. I've accepted it, I've moved on.

But if anyone wants to tell me an issue that's WORTH causing the craziness in the city right now for, I'll totally support the strike. Til then my sympathies lie with all the businesses that will be hurting for lack of supplies, or even people. For the teachers and students that were forced to walk miles in the bitter cold this morning to get to school. For my friends who desperately tried to get to work today in hopes of finishing stuff up so they could NOT work over Christmas break . . .

I believe everyone has the right to work under safe and fair conditions. I guess I'm just not seeing what the transit union wants as "fair."

Christmas and Marketing Profiles

"Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen."

Bobby - age 7

I *heart* NYC (as if you didn't know)

It's hard to answer when people ask why I live here, why I love it. Some ask as if they already know; some think it's obvious - the museums, the art, the culture. How could I not love it?

There are those, though, that ask really wondering. How could I possibly love it? What could there be? Why would I possibly want to stay? Why not just visit like everyone else? Those are the ones that seem especially relieved; that act like we have some special bond when I answer "I love it, but we probably won't be here forever."

And that's how I usually answer. It feels safer, it feels true-er. How could I truly love this smelly rotten over-crowded place? This place that makes me want to cry from the cold from December to March? How it could it really be home? But it is. In a million ways. And not because of the museums and the theaters and the amazingly cool jobs that are no where else.

It's because it's a place where my friends are truly international. Where I have learned more about how other people live and work and love than I have ever before. This place has given me a world view, and a new appreciation of where I came from and what now surrounds me. The city itself no longer scares me, it feels no different than any small town I have lived in, actually. I recognize my neighbors, I pass people on my way to work that miss me when I go on vacation. That ask where I've been. I am not a small town girl lost in the city any longer; I am a girl, living in Hell's Kitchen among friends.

(From the link below) "New York is indeed a hard and impersonal megacity. It is also very much a city of small towns. These are communities without Zip Codes or identifiable borders, and their memberships cross economic, racial, and language barriers. They are founded on kindnesses."

When I came here I was scared, and I felt very much alone. There are still people in my life that have perfected lectures on how babied I am, how incapable. But I am living here, in this place, and making it. Truly finding my way and digging in and enjoying it . . . I truly feel there is nothing I cannot do, no where I cannot go and be okay. In fact, not just be okay - but thrive. I love this place. For all it's taught me and all it's provided for me. I may not live here forever, but it will always truly be home.

And I'm not the only one who loves it! Check it out - http://nymag.com/news/articles/reasonstoloveny/index.html

The cats, they love Dave

And, for the record, so do Sam and I. Dave comes to town for amazingly short stints approximately twice a year. And every single time, it's been good times. He's known Sam since they were both little and I love seeing them together. They have a million inside jokes and twice as many stories about people I'll never meet, and I never feel left out. I never feel like a third wheel. And that makes *me* love him all the more.

He's the best best-friend-in-law ever. Hands down.

HAPPY holidays

Dave's back in town!

And that means Italian food, House of Brews and trips to The Gaf. Doesn't get much better. The holidays have truly started!

Company Parties

So my company party was Friday. It's something I always have mixed feelings about. We've never had one that wasn't directly after some sort of company upheaval and therefore always had this tinge of uneasiness about them. I always hope for the best, but it seems I'm always itching for the door come the second hour.

This year, it was very different. They bussed (school buses!) all of us down to the meat packing district to a club named "ciello" and we had it all to ourselves from 5pm to 10pm. This year, for the first time, we were also invited to bring our "others" and THAT was awesome too. Almost everyone did, and it was great to hang out with the people we often only get to hear about. And since Sam's practically an official member of XM by now, it was cool he got to come and hang out as many of my co-workers are good friends of his.

And hang out we did. We drank from the top-shelf open bar (and I got tipsy for the first time in FOREVER), ate a magnificent dinner and danced danced danced. It was truly barrel of monkeys fun. We stayed til the very very very end, and then hopped into John's mini and back to our hood to our neighborhood bar, The Gaf, which happened to pick this night to celebrate FESTIVUS. Airing of grievances, feats of strength and all. James, John, Sam and I sat at a bar and made plans for future adventures a while til I totally pooped out (midnight or so). As I headed for the door they headed for the dart board.

It was a brilliant night. Once again I am reminded that I work with the best people EVER. I've been really struggling with trying to feel "christmas-ey" lately, with all the work I've been doing, and this night? Ironically, nailed it. I'm ready for the holidays. I'm ready to celebrate this past wonderful magical year and begin the next.

Cheers!

Music

So I've been listening to our ceremony music today. We've had a lot of people ask for CDs of it, and while I've been burning discs (and designing intriguing sites all about deodorant, of course), I've been listening to these songs on repeat.

And, well. Um. I don't know how to begin to say what's on my mind. Music has always been important to me. It's so entwined in my memories that often songs cannot be separated from their corresponding events. En Vogue's "Whatta Man" reminds me of Jamie Johnson in the red metro convertible. Godspell's "Day by Day" will always remind me of my friend Mark. I will never hear Madonna's Lucky Star without thinking about how on my first date, Lance and I danced to just that song. Or how (god help me) during Color Me Badd's "I Adore Mi Amore" Scott Haden saved me the humiliation of sitting by myself the Homecoming I got stood up and asked me to dance. Even recently I listen to "Montana Skies" by John Denver to escape this city a bit, remembering how I played it on repeat as I painted in the mountains this summer.

Music has always been important to me. Partly because a lot the people I love most adore it so, and thereby help me adore it. Revere it. Stand in its uncompromising power to move the spirit.

And today, today has reminded me of all that and more. These songs coming rushing at me with a power I cannot describe. The lyrics I so carefully listened to, printed out and ruminated over for months now hold an entirely new meaning. I cannot hear the music without picturing a ravishing sunset; feeling the wind blow across the fields. It takes me straight to everyone I love most, just like it took me to *the* one I love most just months ago.

But what's different this time, is I don't hear what's actually playing. I hear Nathan's voice filtering across the green at me. Hear his breath in the mic and his fingers on the strings. I hear Leslie's voice reaching up among the stars and can clearly see Ryan dancing behind the piano as the music picks up. I hear, during 100 names, Sam's voice whisper in my ear, "Ryan is amazing." I remember hearing Les sing that very song in my garage and still tear up at just the memory of its beauty. I love listening to Concrete and Clay and being able to picture Lance rocking back and forth with this amazing smile as he beat the bongos. Or, dear lord, Scott putting Huey Lewis AND the News to shame during Power of Love.



That was one of the greatest gifts we were given at our wedding. These people taking their time and their talents and doing nothing less than giving us something time can never fade or lessen. They gave me - us - something I can never thank them enough for. They took this little spot of grass in Olathe, Kansas and turned it into magic. It was open and sweeping and the wind blew through it, and yet they filled every inch of it. They filled it with love and hope and everything I had dreamed of. I don't believe I'll ever be able to find the words to thank them.

But I do know that every time I listen to this playlist, from now until I'm 80 years old, I will hear them playing, them singing . . .and I will thank the gods that they were there. That they gave us so precious a gift.

And I will forever be trying to find a way to thank them.

Weddings

So Sam and I made a whirlwind trip to Kansas this weekend to go to a wedding. The groom had been in our bridal party, and Sam was in his.

I was the typical "girl with usher number 2" whom no one knew.

I hate being that girl. I'm not so good at making friends - take that back. I'm pretty decent with complete strangers. Put me in a room where no one knows me and I'll chat you up. On the street, waiting for a bagel? No problem. You'll know my whole life story and we'll be trading emails. But in a room filled with friends of Sam's I have never met?

I am as socially inept as a twelve year old girl in braces and glasses in a room full of high school football players.

I'm nervous, I'm antsy. I'm quiet and try to just stay out of the way. I want to be myself, but we all know my first impression is often a bit bitchy and while this is information I was told fifteen years ago - it has resided in my brain and made me absolutely terrified of coming off that way now.

To Sam's friends. To their wives. I don't want to be *that* wife. You know the one. The one that somehow captured the fun guy, the guy that was always a ball of excitement and adventure. . . and *god*, what DOES he see in her?

So I'm there and the wives, they are ever so kind to me. They act like I've been around forever. They ask about my life and what I do and they invite me to sit with them and dear lord, I feel like I just got invited to sit with the cool kids. And I have a blast. We snark about the DJ and laugh about our husbands. They tell me stories I've never heard and I go make a bar run to get them more wine. It was so fun. And I feel like maybe, just maybe, I made some new friends. And that makes me happy.

What else makes me happy? Speaking of me being a bit bitchy? Their wedding was nice, but ours? I liked it better. That's right, I said it. Ours was better. Hee. And I know it's awful to say - but I took a special kind of joy thinking as we were going through "I'm glad we did this and not this." I guess you make so very many decisions in the rush of it all and kind of just hope it worked out, and you *think* it did, but it's hard to tell. There are a lot of "what if's." And this weekend ended them all for me.

I loved our wedding the first time, reliving it in my mind this weekend again, I loved it all the more. I wouldn't change a thing. Not one small, tiny, infinitesimal thing.

I'm guessing this is how all brides feel. At least, I hope so.

Beautiful.

Big download, worth the wait.

http://www.bravia-advert.com/commercial/braviaextcommhigh.html

Why I Still Love Christmas

Despite turning my back on the systems of belief that hold possession of this holiday, it is still one of my favorites. Despite not ever *truly* celebrating it's REAL purpose, I cannot help but celebrate all that accompanies it. I listen to the music, I am enraptured by the stories, I am enthralled by the lights, the candles, the garland.

And of course, this is natural. Christmas, in many ways, is home. It is the time of year you remember the itching of days when you were small, the trips home when you were in college. The grand reunions between you and everyone you love most. Just the sound of carols takes me immediately to the Little Theater, with my friends performing in the band, the chorus, the orchestra. I remember the first Christmas back from college, standing in Oakdale Park in the bitter cold, a million stars above us as Scott sang an Italian aria he had learned that semester we were all away. I remember sledding down Indian Rock, driving haphazardly through Salina, Kansas on the Tour DeLights . . . or even, most recently, carrying a giant wooden easel into the house for Sarah and then hours later driving myself to the emergency room, because I would not go earlier, would not miss her Christmas.

It's a magical time. It's filled with memories and sentimental traditions. How could I not love it? But you might not understand to the *extent* I am enthralled with this holiday. I fully embrace it and all it's ridiculous and tchotchkie-licious remnants. I adore for far more than the memories and warmth it has given me throughout the years.

It's greater than that.

And no, I don't' mean the birth of Jesus.

And, yes, that's exactly what I'm referring to.

This holiday stands alone to me, in the giant list of overly-marketed holidays, as the one that truly has a wonderful, magical, amazing message we should be shouting about. Ringing bells, grasping hands, lighting candles, raising wreaths. Not because of a messiah, not because of who this child was. But THAT he was. And how the world has since responded.

The world responded. That is what I find so very magical. This holiday isn't about giving presents or babies' birthdays or magical men and their deer to me. It's about the smallest of beings and the course of the world. It's about hope.

It's the promise to each of us that great change can come. Great change does happen. In the most remote of places, on the quietest of nights; in the smallest of beings.

Greatness exists. It does not shout, it does not render terrifyingly. It cries against the wrong, it whispers to a world ready to hear it. And it can be heard.

The smallest of humans changed the course of humanity. It can be done. There is love; there is hope. There is greatness.

And whether you believe that small babe born thousands of years ago truly walked the earth as the son of god, or whether you take this tale as just that - a tale told within the confines of a belief - the message stands as strong.

There is still a story of a small babe, born in the hardest of times; who, just by his appearance began to change the path of a world gone wrong. And that, to me, is worth celebrating. Worth revering. Worth taking to heart.

There is always hope to change the world. And none too small to do so.

Merry Christmas, my friends. Here’s to us doing just that, finding a way to change the course. In the spirit of an incredibly brilliant story.

Rockefeller Center

It snowed for the first time this year this morning. We went for a walk. :)

Take All the Sky You Need

I've been playing this song a lot this week. I worked almost 60 hours, which means that not only am I tired, I miss my husband.

This song reminds me of him - of us. I remember the first time I heard it I thought it was perfect - it was the two of us, with all our plans and hopes. Lives stretched out in front of us, filled with dreams and wishes and concrete foundations.

I always thought meeting the love of my life would go hand in hand with abandoning those foundations; compromising those dreams. And then, I met Sam - and it wasn't so much about compromising as knowing I could run as far as I wanted and never be behind. Explore and build and know I was never alone. I feel like what we have is right because, among other reasons, we *both* feel like that.

That we have all the sky we need.

------

You turn a blue eye to me
and you look right through me
You said, “Define what you think
freedom means, if you want freedom”

“’Cause we can wake up this lullaby town –
and burn through every red light we found
lift a dustcloud, break the speed of sound
We could break free…”

(Chorus)
“If you want to run,
I’ll pack my suitcase
and if you want to stay,
I’ll make a front door key
and if you need space
to fly free,
take all the sky you need”

If I stand on the rooftops
I look down on my story
and it swallows me
Beyond the horizon
the tail lights, the glory
will you follow me?

Freedom
I need to know who I am
Freedom
I’m like a moth in your hand
Sweet freedom
Do I fly or stand
Or fall on my knees?
(chorus)

One good woman
makes a one woman man
She’ll keep your head straight
keep you walking a plan
You dream too big
the crystal ball breaks
Never turn your back
on a woman who waits
(chorus)



Thanks, Ellis Paul. You rock.

Work Work Work

Day three of 12 hours at a time. With no end in site.

Dear lord, I'm so very very tired.

Working on the Lord's Day

Can't much complain, though I would ever so much rather be taking a nap or watching a movie. Ah, well. It's good work. I don't mind. Tonight? I paint for this first time in way way way too long.

Listening to: Ellis Paul - The Speed of Trees

Thanksgiving Menu - Proof Our Wedding Gifts Get Used

Bourbon Turkey
Sausage and Artichoke Parmesan Stuffing
Cheesey-Hot Corn Casserole
Roasted Red Potatoes in Garlic Butter with Bacon
Brussel Sprouts*
Crescent Rolls*

Cinnamon Struesal-topped Pumpkin Pie
Chocolate Banana Dream Pie


Hopefully, it will live up to the lunch Tim and Sam had of corn dog nuggets and fries from Nathan's Famous Hot Dogs. It occurred to me while they ate their meals of one color that perhaps I shoudl have tried harder to work more *green* into the mix of our menu. Ah, well. Next year.

*items not from scratch

Xmas Music

For a pagan household, we celebrate xmas like very few others. I just made my first xmas music playlist for the iPOD and it has 96 songs on it.

And these are just the ones I decided I wanted to hear.

My current fave? "Daddy, please don't get drunk this Christmas" by John Denver.

Good news

So this week, being thanksgiving and all, I have decided to try to make a list of things I'm thankful for.

It shall be ongoing.

Look forward to it.

I had decided to do this earlier in the week and just hadn't taken the time. There was other stuff to write about. And then today I got a "good news" call from the dr. today, assuring me that what could have been a very very bad thing was in fact just an okay thing and I realized I should start my list today. I am choosing not to look like a selfish selfish unappreciating girl to the good-things gods. So off I go:

1. My health. It's not perfect, it's not great - but I can live my life to its fullest without worry. I can plan for the future without temper, and that is priceless.

2. My husband (of course). The man who patiently lets me completely lose it from time to time and seemingly never tires of helping put the pieces all back together again. Not everyone finds a friend such as he, let alone gets to marry him. He truly makes me a very happy, lucky lucky girl.

3. My family and friends. I'd list them all out separately if I could. But there's too many. See that? TOO MANY. I am blessed.

4. My apartment. Hell, I live in NYC and wake up to the sounds of BIRDS, people! And horses! And carriages! Seriously. It's amazing. And my neighborhood is called Hell's Kitchen. It doesn't get better than that.

5. Juicy Twists. I don't who invented these things but I WANT MORE. Thank you, inventor of the yummiest candy ever. I'd send you a Christmas card if I could. Or if I sent them at all. Or celebrated Christmas, even. Anyway, THANKS FOR THE ENDLESS JOY.

6. My job. It rocks. My co-workers kick ass and I am challenged every day. I'm a better designer now than when I started, and it is truly all because of them. And, bonus, I get paid to be creative every day. Oh, and they PAY me. Go me.

. . .to be continued.

Growing up in Kansas

This is a quote (which I love) from an article in the Chicago Tribune:

"In the remains of this exploded life, Joan reaches backward, back to the lessons about fate and fortitude she learned as a girl in a land where the summer sun was as pitiless as the winter wind and the snow along the empty roads could dwarf a man.

When people marvel that she's strong, as they so often do in admiration and bewilderment and relief, she shakes her head, says no, she's not strong. She's just from Kansas."

I Walk the Line

So I saw the Johnny Cash movie this weekend. And no, I did not see Harry Potter. I felt like he would get enough love, and with tickets at ten bucks a pop there was only room for one new movie this weekend.

Anyway.

So we saw John and June and I loved it. I thought it was brilliant. Brilliant performaces and a truly great story. (And I took special joy out of knowing who Waylon Jennings was.) I loved picturing Jerry Lee Lewis hanging with John Cash and Elvis and Roy Orbison. I love the thought that greatness every once in a while intercepts with itself. And I loved all the music.

And yes, I just announced that out loud. Internet, I loved every single second of that old-timey country. And not just in the context of the movie. People, I am not just walking the line - I've crossed it. I might be a fan of country music.

Now don't get me wrong. I would recognize very little of what plays on the radio. I'm not a radio listener, really, anymore. But I have found that since moving to this city and dating Sam, my musical interests have expanded a bit.

When I first got to NYC I relished the few bits of country music I had. It reminded me of home. Of pick-ups and state fairs and open fields. Of the smell of hay and the the farms along the interstate. I can try to be as metropolitan as possible, but I am a great plains girl at my heart. I prefer open spaces and long stretches of highway. Thunderstorms that tumble over the horizon and race to you. And yes, even the small, dirty, tacky wooden bars where all they serve is four kinds of beer and bad gin. There's home in all of that to me. And the country songs I had saved over the years to mix CDs brought of it all to me once again.

So I would walk the crowded streets to the sounds of Garth Brooks and the Dixie Chicks. I would fight down thirty fourth street, my heart heavy with absent friends and places. Then Dar Williams led me to Alison Krauss who in turn led me to all kinds of new music and people. And then Sam moved in, and DEAR LORD that boy. He's a cowboy at heart, really. And I now had more country music on my iPOD then I ever wanted or needed.

And I liked it. I liked two-stepping in the living room with Sam to Alabama. I loved driving through Texas late late at night and having Sam tell me about Luckenbach, Texas with Waylon, Willie and the boys. I loved listening to Biggie wax poetic to me about Keith Whitley and then buying the whole album, unable to separate Biggs and Montana and that wonderful week from the music. It's become a part of too many memories for me NOT to like it.

And now, my ever-growing repertoire has grown to embrace Johnny Cash. Which is ironic, to happen now. Only because out in Lawrence, Kansas ten years or so back I saw him and June in concert. Only I had no idea who they were. It was fun, I enjoyed myself, but I didn't think twice about it. Much like I didn't think twice when I tossed my signed "Man in Black" poster a few years later. I had no idea who he was.

And now I do. And I wish I could go back in time and see that concert again. Now that I know the history and the stories behind the music. But I can't. What I will do, however, is sit back as I design at my desk and listen to a little FolSom County Prison. And maybe after that some Denver's Montana Sky.

It's funny. I've become so much more Midwestern after leaving the Midwest. Everything I fought against growing up I find myself finding pride in now. Who knew. And I know still, I'm no country girl. And I'm no city girl, that's for sure. In fact, I'm not so sure where I fit, really. But every once in a while I like to listen to those songs about open fields and mountains and horses and wildness and simpleness and think some day maybe I can be a part of all of it again, and this time appreciate it a helluva lot more.

"Our Town" by Thornton Wilder

We all know that something is eternal. And it ain’t houses and it ain’t names, and it ain’t earth, and it ain’t even the stars . . . everybody knows in their bones that something is eternal, and that something has to do with human beings. All the greatest people ever lived have been telling us that for five thousand years and yet you’d be surprised how people are always losing hold of it. There’s something way down deep that’s eternal about every human being.

Pictures are of my Nana and Papa.

The World Would Not Miss Me

Not that my loved ones would not, if I were to one day just disappear. But to the world, my disappearance would be but a small breath of air escaping. A notion of relief; a clean space where there was once a place, a face, a being.

My impact on this world is not what I want it to be.

I do not know how to get to where I'm going. To where I wish to be. I once wanted to change the world, and in many ways, I still do. And yes, I know there a million ways to do such a thing - none of them large and fantastic. I well know that it is the small, the unnoticed; the minutia of the breeze that in the end can turn the storm. However, I am not where I want to be. And I must consider. I must reconsider.

I don't know where this will take me, if I will truly go anywhere at all. But I want to leave a mark, an imprint. So when I am erased what is left is some small line, some shadow from the crack - where I dared raise my fist and beat against the wall.

Thanks Dave!

Thanks Dave!

Plans

So I married someone, who let's just say, excels at the saving of the pennies. This, this is fortunate for me - for I am one who is truly magnificent at the spending of the pennies. The marriage was more than just the promising of a permanent chance for me to drive Sam crazy, but the combining of our household budgets and bills.

Now let me point out I got the better end of this deal. See the opening statement for explanation.

However, this past summer Sam got a promotion and just yesterday I got a raise. So Sam has been working on strange things called "financial plans." He talks of "savings accounts" and such. This is all beyond me. It's not that I don't understand, or couldn't handle the finances . . .I just could CARE LESS. I'd rather not be bothered. I have things I'd rather think about, like where will the DVDs go when we get our new TV? Or how shall we hang the pots? Sam, on the other hand, would much prefer to think of all the ways we can save to do cool things and I'm all for him doing that.

One thing that occurred to me, as he was unveiling his multiple plans was, if we stick to his budget - we could feasibly have a down payment for an apartment here in the next couple years. Let me say that again. An apartment. Here. TO OWN. And while I do not want to own anything here unless we win the lottery, assuring us space for our as yet unplanned family, it's nice to know that we are choosing to rent our home for now. Manhattan is in fact NOT shutting us out. (So there you rich, wealthy, stinky city! I didn't want to own you anyway!)

And you'd be surprised how much that has changed my outlook. I have always felt, since Sam moved here and we started building our home, that we were doppelgangers of a sort. That any minute someone would see us and say we didn't belong or we couldn't stay anymore. And I know that's silly, but it was like a splinter in my finger. Not enough to stop typing, but some days I'd hit it just right and it would shock me a little. Slow me down.

Now I look around and my roots sink into the hard cement a bit deeper than before. Sam and I can do this; I couldn't do it before, not really, not by myself. But together, I really feel like we can do just about anything. This whole budget thing is just one miniscule example of that.

That and the plans we're coming up with together? I really just cannot wait. Kenya? Ireland? Paris? I truly cannot wait to see the world with him. Even if it requires some pinching of the pennies and fewer pairs of new shoes.

P.S. The photo is a shot of my office taken from the front steps of our stoop. My commute rocks.

Informercials Part Duex

Sam and I are now owners of three space bags. I shall keep you up to date on their worthiness.

Wind and Sea

http://www.fairisle.org.uk/property.htm

I love the city, don't get me wrong. This place as much as it drives me mad, like most good things in my life, rewards me for sticking with it. I'm am constantly barraged with ideas for paintings, wonderful, interesting, intelligent people - places that awe and inspire me.

But a piece of me wants to run away to the link up there. I could knit, Sam could build. We'd have a small garden and I'd sit on the rock wall and just watch the sea. The mornings would be brisk and cold, but smell of wind and sea and salt. The evenings warm in front of our fire; we'd sit at a large heavy wooden table. The kind that lacks grace, but is sturdy and steady and gathers old friends.

We'd live simply and quietly. We'd have time to take long rambling walks where we would see no other but birds. The noises that would invade our space would be that of water and wind, not cars and people.

Part of me wants to run away from it all some days. Go somewhere quiet and small. Somewhere where it's just the two of us for a while. With no other worries or cares. Just us, a rock wall, and the sounds of the sea.

Bullets for Everyone!

This is me with the most wonderful smoothie made with our new most wonderful Magic Bullet (c). Now, don't laugh. When I used to tell people I wanted this they would laugh at me. A ton of them said it wouldn't work like it did on tv, or worse, wouldn't' work at all.

Well, I'm here to tell you differently. I've made fresh, delicious guacamole and yummy fresh pesto (the pesto was a bit of a disaster, but only because our new microwave is *nuclear.*) And these smoothies, dear lord. I might only eat them and Juicy Twists (my favorite licorice) for the next three months.

So, people, just when you think infomercials are ridiculous - do not believe the hype. THEY ARE REAL. Heavens, now I'm tempted by ALL the infomercials. That's how great this little bullet is.

I am now off to watch PAX and try to talk Sam into some of those Space Bags . . . .

Ben Folds Concert

Okay, first off - how could I NOT buy this shirt for Sam? Seriously.

And second, the concert was amazing. It was Sam and I's first trip to Radio City and it was *beautiful.* Cross another thing off our list of things we want to do in NYC before we leave. Not that we're leaving anytime soon. This, strangely, has very much become home. I walk down the streets and they are filled with memories. A lot of Sam and I's "firsts." A million special dinners for no reason, a thousand wonderful walks hand-in-hand. When I head to or from New Jersey in a dirty crowded bus, a part of me always leaps with joy when I can point out "our building." We know the family from the hardware store and the family that works the video store. We know no one Amish works in our market. The doormen within a three block radius never fail to tell me hi and ask me about my day.

This is home. I never meant for it to be. I thought I would move here, have amazing experiences that would lead to good stories and then I'd leave. A hiatus, a sybbatical. An extended vacation of sorts. Living here rarely felt real. But now, after almost four years, it feels suddenly like home. Walking back from Radio City at almost midnight, the sidewalks packed with their usual thrust of tourists, Sam and I laughing and wondering home . . .

Well, it couldn't have been more familiar, or more wonderful. It's no small house with a big porch in an open field, but for now? It could not be more perfect.

And the concert was pretty okay too. :)

My Maid of Honor

I sat there, in the passenger side of her car, as I had all week. I felt totally normal there, and a part of me had completely forgotten we no longer lived in the same city. I sat there, in my bridal brattiness, tired and exhausted and missing my fiancé.

And she took my hand and looked at me, eyes brimming with tears, and told me everything would be okay. Not just now, but always. It would work out. Because Sam and I loved each other, and we were not alone in the madness. "We're fighting for you. You'll never be on your own. You'll always have us."

And then *my* eyes brimmed with tears and we shrugged and laughed it off like it was ridiculous, and who were those sappy girls?! But inside, my heart swelled.

And now, looking back at all the moments, all the precious things that whipped by at lightening speed . . . This is one I know I will never forget.

Mrs. Bell Stiers' Hairdo

Some people just belong with long hair. Some people can even pull off long or short hair, you know the ones, the classic beauties. My friend Jamie being one. But me? I cannot pull off long hair. I try, but it never quite works. I don't feel myself and I certainly never feel pretty. Basically, I need short hair. So Saturday afternoon, Robb-with-two-Bs, my awesome stylist, cut off ELEVEN inches. Neither of us were sad about the affair. In fact, we practically had a party right there in the salon.

He understands I need short hair, too. So after a hug and kiss from Robb, I am now officially back to my sassy short red hair, and a little girl somewhere will benefit from my long-hair-just-for-the-wedding. A fair deal in all, I think.

PS - If any of you have long hair and want to share - go here: http://www.locksoflove.org/ They're good people.

Home again, Home again

I'm not sure what to say - other than I have been so very blessed. The week of the wedding was amazing and time and time again I found words failed me in expressing my gratitude for everything everyone did for us. We have the most wonderful friends and family ever.

And today, officially, Sam and I started work again. And as much as I hated doing it, as much as I would have killed for just one more day - it's nice somehow. Knowing that in many ways this is our first day. Our first real, normal day married. And I already love it. Marriage didn't change anything really, and yet, everything's different. And now, when I do something to annoy Sam and he calls me on it I get to look at him and say "FOOOOOOOORRRRR-EV-EEERRRRR!!!"

Which really made all the madness totally worth it.