Pics from our Fourth

Hope you had a wonderful fourth. We did.

(I'll share pics and stories soon, 'til then my fave patriotic quote.)

"Loyalty to your country always, loyalty to your government when it deserves it."
~Mark Twain

Gratuitous Pregnancy and Hilarity Photo, with a short Fare Well

This is Mike and Katy. We love them both. If you want to have one helluva a time on a four-plus-hour car ride, or even just dinner - they're the people to call. We saw them last Friday night, one of Katy's last nights in the city before she moved in search of better things.

I try not to think about how this won't be home for her anymore, how we won't just randomly see her every couple weeks. It's just too sad. When I moved here, Katy and I were friends in that distant sense of the word. Satellites around the same big things, tenuously connected to each other. But she took me under her wing from the start. Not a week went by she didn't call or come by; she made this great, big place feel a lot more like home.

I still have the subway map she gave me - all marked up with where I should live, where she and Nathan lived. Where I wasn't allowed to live.

I've been lucky in the six years since to be able to count Katy as one of my dearest friends. And as sad as I am she's moved, I'm so very excited for what awaits her.

Katy is just one of those people who's just really good at being a good friend. I'm not sure how else to explain it. All I do know and can explain is that our little New York family got just a tad smaller this week.

Katy, we miss you already.

Our Nursery (warning, this is a long one)

So first, Sam put it all together . . . (I helped by staying out of the way.)


Then Schiele claimed it as her own.

(Notice the mosquito net in the picture below: we have wicked mosquitoes - thank you giant garden outside our windows. So little Samaire gets her own little princess enclosure in hopes she can get some sleep without being carried off.)


And tonight, we hung the mobile - our last little touch.

Who says you can't have a cute little nursery in a tiny Manhattan apartment?

(Thanks to May and Christian - our friends who gave us the kickass tree for the wall!)

June 10th - at the tail end of the 100 degree streak

After 4 days of misery, this would be right after Sam installed our new a/c. (Explaining my rather worn, but ecstatic, look.)

But you had requested photos, so I took them. This is how great the love! ;)

Jamie did this

and I do whatever Jamie does. ;)

1) Favorite hobby?
Huh. Lately my art's been a "hobby" - something I'd like to change, and soon. I want to learn how to knit. (Anyone want to show me how? I've spent years trying to teach myself to utter disaster.)

I collect signed/special edition/first run books of my fave authors and stories. Yes, I know - exciting! But there you have it, I'm a big fat nerd.

(2) How do you feel about your ex?
Which one? 'Cause all but two were in my wedding . . . I've been really blessed to remain close friends with all of them.

(3) Do you own guns?
Um, no. Opposed entirely. Prepared to lose this battle someday when Sam and I have a house.

(4) What flavor do you add to your drink at sonic?
Cherry and vanilla. Yummy.

(5) Do you get nervous before doctor appointments?
No usually. If some thing's wrong, then yes. For normal check-ups, not at all. However, dentists? Terrified.

(6) What do you think of hot dogs?
I don't really . . .think of them, eat them, or prefer to smell them.

(7) Favorite Christmas song?
"Christians and Pagans" by Dar Williams. Or "Christmas" by Blues Traveler.

(8) What do you prefer to drink in the morning?
Strawberry-banana smoothie. Almost every single morning one version of this or another passes my lips.

(9) Can you do push ups?
Right now? Um, no. When I'm not eight months preggers? Um, maybe. Really don't care enough to try and find out most days.

(10) Can you do a chin up?
Almost certainly that's a no. I have horrid memories of trying to do these for the Presidential Fitness Challenge. Does that still exist?

(11) What’s your favorite piece of jewelry?
I'm obsessed with rings (though right now they are almost all too big to wear.) Each one has a story and I remember when Little Sarah was small she would point to each and want to wear it while I told her where it came from or why I wore it. The rings may have changed since then, but they still all have special meaning.

My favorite being of course, my engagement ring. I love my wedding ring, but Sam picked out my engagement ring all on his own and I love looking down at it and knowing that it encompasses how he sees me.

(12) Do you like blue cheese?
Dear, sweet, jesus no.

(13) Ever been in a car wreck?
Yes. Like three my senior year. It felt like every time I left my house for a while there I was calling the insurance guy . . . *sigh*

(14) Do you have ADD?
No, I just don't seem to care enough most of the time to concentrate on any one thing for very long. I believe it's called "apathetic daily disorder."

(15) What’s one trait that you hate about yourself?
Hate's a strong word. I'd like to be less anxious, more confident about myself most days.

(16) Middle name?
I had a whole bunch. Now, I just have one - "Bell." It seems right. I love it.

(17) Name 3 thoughts at this exact moment?
1. I wish Samaire would stop kicking me.

2. I need to find the perfect present for my friend Joyce somehow very soon . . .

3. A nap right now would be fantastic. And ice cream.

(18) Name 3 things you bought yesterday?
Wow. I had work yesterday in Boston, so nothing exciting. An upgrade on the train, Broccoli (an entire plateful for my lunch) at the client cafeteria, and a sandwich, chips and juice for dinner on the train for dinner.

(19) Name 3 drinks you regularly drink?
1. Water

2. Dragonfruit Vita Water

3. Do smoothies count? Cause that about covers it.

(20) Current worry?
Getting everything together for the baby before she gets here. (So soon! I'm considered full-term next week!)

(21) Current hate right now?
Work. I mean I love my job and all, but am becoming increasingly distracted by this whole "baby" thing.

And, tourists. Dear lord, the tourists on my commute.

(23) How did you bring in the New Year?
Olive Garden, Times Square. It's the only way to start the new year right and if you haven't come to stay with us and participate - you're insane.

(24) Where would you like to be right now?
Well, here. Go figure. It's pretty cool. Maybe a day in Montauk. I love and am recently missing the beach desperately. Or on a car ride with my husband. I love it when we take road trips and we haven't for a while. I don't care where to, though.

(25) Do you like bok choy?
I have a feeling the answer is no, as it makes me think of wilted, giant green leaves.

(26) Do you own slippers?
Nope. But they're on my list of stuff I want for after Samaire's here and she and I are hanging out constantly in the apartment.

(27) What shirt are you wearing?
Just a plain white t-shirt. It makes me look especially pregnant. But it's comfy.

(28) Do you like sleeping on satin sheets?
It's possible I've never slept on satin sheets. I feel like perhaps in theory they'd be good? Do they stay all shiny and soft after multiple uses? Or do they get all pill-ey and scratchy? Answers I need before trying them out.

I do, however, think sleeping on new, clean sheets is one of life's greatest luxuries.

(29) Can you whistle?
Yes, but I can't do the crazy fingers-in-your-mouth thing. I can just "disney" whistle. You know, short little tunes. . .

(31) Would you be a pirate?
Um, see for yourself.

(32) What songs do you sing in the shower?
I don't really. Is that sad?

(33) Favorite girl’s name?
Ha. For what? People? Plants? Fish? Me?

(34) Favorite boy’s name?
Really, I need specifics.

(35) What is in your pocket?
My pockets are empty!

(36) Last thing that made you laugh?
Hm, I've laughed a lot today but can't think of any specific cause. That's good, I guess.

(37) Best bed sheets as a child?
Strawberry Shortcake all the way!

(38) Worst injury you ever had?
When I got the staph infection IN the ulcer ON my cornea. Labor, you don't scare me.

(39) Do you like where you live?
I ADORE it. Please move it closer to the middle of the country.

(40) How many TVs do you have in your house?
One. No cable.

(41) Who is your loudest friend?
Not sure. I have a lot of really loud friends. Though Sam might be the most obnoxiously so.

(42) How many dogs do you have?
None. I want one though. For some reason Sam thinks two adults, one baby, a cat, three fish and a snail, AND a puppy is overkill in our 300 square foot apartment. I say he lacks imagination.

(43) Does someone have a crush on you?
I'm going with OF COURSE on this one.

(44) Favorite book?
Ever? Wow. "The Art Spirit" by Robert Henri = the only book I've ever gone back to read so many many times. Always inspiring.

(46) What is your favorite candy?
Cherry or Strawberry taffy with sugar sprinkles. SO GOOD.

(47) Favorite Sports Team?
Mets, I guess. As I'd like to avoid bringing this child into a broken home.

(48) What song do you want played at your funeral?
"Let the Mystery Be" - Natalie Merchant

(49) What were you doing at 12 AM last night?
Sleeping. I'm lame.

(50) What was the first thing you thought of when you woke up today?
There's a cat on my head.

Girls Rock

Okay, so this made me cry. (Though the list of what doesn't lately is very very short.)

I want experiences like this for Samaire. For her to feel strong, and loved, powerful and affecting.

That she rocks.

Out of all the things I wish/hope/pray for her on a daily basis, I might want that most of all.

My Job and, um, Baseball ...

So I find myself surrounded by young designers all of a sudden. Interviewing them, mentoring them (our interns), combing through their work, helping designers in other offices field design questions and basic corporate craziness . . .

And it has given me pause. I recognize the influence I can choose to have on them: on the team we're beginning to build. I say "choose" because it would be just as easy to perform my tasks, be their manager, and leave it at that. But I know what it's like to have a kick ass manager. Someone who inspires you - who pushes you for better work, and by example shows you what true advocacy and professionalism is. (Hi, Joyce!)

And that's what I want to do for the team I'm building. I want to fuel inspiration and daring. To build confidence. I want, despite crazy deadlines, finicky clients and long hours, for the people who work with me to be able to look up and say "but I still really love what I do - this is good work." To never forget what brought them here to begin with.

And, in accordance with being married to Sam Stiers - I can actually point to something I read today about baseball and say it actually inspired me.

Floyd typically doesn’t carry teams, nor is he the best player, however there is something about his presence which Hollander sums up the best by stating:

“You can’t measure a conversation that instructs or motivates or takes pressure off. You can’t quantify a well timed joke that eases tension in the clubhouse. Or a look that reassures. Or a skillful deflection of the media away from a player who can’t handle it. Or a million other little things that go into the relationships that are bonded over the course of season together. These are the human qualities that elude objective statistical analysis. But they’re crucial to creating a winning team. In order to win, especially to win a championship, it’s not simply about being the best player but about making other teammates play better.”

Who knew? Sam was right on the money when he said I want to be "the Cliff Floyd of marketing."

(taken a couple years ago when Sam took me along on a job assignment at Shea...)

pregnancy photo

'Cause you asked. :)



I'll try to get a better one tomorrow, had to take this one myself.

I worked on our "nursery" today. Basically the corner of our room we've dedicated to the baby. Sam has built the crib, and we hung the mosquito net over it. (We have a wicked mosquito problem in the summer, thanks to the garden.) Today, I sewed branches and white flowers around the top of the netting, and jimmy-rigged a "skirt" to go around the bottom of the crib so we coudl store the stroller seat there without it looking all tacky and crowded.

All we need to do now is hang this super-cool tree sticker our friends May and Christian got us on the wall and that should be pretty much together. (I'll take pics then, so you can see it all at once.)

And I roasted a turkey.

Ha. So domestic!I was left to amuse myself most of the afternoon. Tonya and Travis (Sam's cousins) are here and wanted to go down to the lower east side for pastrami from Katz's Deli - and while I would have loved to go, it was 95 degrees out. And there's really nothing there for me to eat. I had planned on meeting them later, but they stopped in Union Square (and I think sort of forgot about me as they watched the Mates game in the bar) - so I never quite caught up with them.

Tomorrow, though, we're headed to the Yankee/Royals game and then to Churrascaria (awesome Brazilian restaurant in our 'hood), so hopefully we'll get some good pics then.

Stolen

So I went to Linked-In tonight and began perusing old friends and co-workers I was connected to - just cause. We're hiring right now, and I wanted to check and see if there was anyone I might want to contact. And, you know, general professional curiosity about what everyone was doing now.

*sigh*

And I came upon a site of someone (who I thought was a friend, I even helped him get a job a while back) and while looking through his portfolio I found HALF of the work he showed was mine.

Mine.

7 years old, but MINE.

Designs that I, once upon a time, took the time to think out and put together as best I could.

I can't tell you how upset I was. I am. How absolutely violated. And, of course, what can I do besides send an email asking he take them down? This person I invited to my wedding, who I supported when he needed a job - this person I thought was my friend.

Who has been blatantly pointing to things I designed and taking credit. Did he show these when he interviewed for his last job? How many times has he benefited from my work? My ideas? My layouts?

I can't express my sheer bafflement at how someone could be so absolutely ballsy.

Part of me wants to link to him here. Encourage you to email him and call him names. :)

Or leave a comment on Linked In. Email his current job. Take some sort of revenge.

Mostly I just want to take back my work.

I emailed and told him I didn't appreciate him claiming it as his own, and to please take it down. I'm not sure what I'll do if he doesn't - though in all my anal-retentiveness I still have all the original files. Technically, I can prove they're mine. But why should I have to?

And what's funny is, truly, the work is irrelevant to me at this point in my career. I'll never show it again. I'll never put it in my portfolio. I've gone past it, my skills have eclipsed it. And, yet, apparently his haven't.

Oh, I'm so disappointed. And angry. And, well, just plain sad.

Moment of Hope

"He has the gift of making people see themselves in him . . ."

Congrats, Mr. Obama. May you be blessed with calm, strength and determination as you head into these next months.

Luncheon of the Garden Party

With my new commute, I've gotten the chance to read a lot more. And I'm loving it. Between that and the intense and lovely time I'm getting to spend with my iPod, I'm beginning to think I actually prefer having a commute. It's nice to have some alone/quiet time in the morning, and some de-stress time after work. Of course, my opinions might change once it's 100 bahizillion degrees outside and I'm eight and a half months pregnant - but until then, I'm enjoying it.

One of the books I've read is Susan Vreeland's Luncheon of the Boating Party.

In short, I loved it. I can't recommend it enough. For people who love the arts, love creating, love me. (*smile*).

Here's the amazon summary:

Imagining the banks of the Seine in the thick of la vie moderne, Vreeland tracks Auguste Renoir as he conceives, plans and paints the 1880 masterpiece that gives her vivid fourth novel its title. Renoir, then 39, pays the rent on his Montmartre garret by painting "overbred society women in their fussy parlors," but, goaded by negative criticism from Émile Zola, he dreams of doing a breakout work. On July 20, the daughter of a resort innkeeper close to Paris suggests that Auguste paint from the restaurant's terrace. The party of 13 subjects Renoir puts together (with difficulty) eventually spends several Sundays drinking and flirting under the spell of the painter's brush. Renoir, who declares, "I only want to paint women I love," falls desperately for his newest models, while trying to win his last subject back from her rich fiancé. But Auguste and his friends only have two months to catch the light he wants and fend off charges that he and his fellow Impressionists see the world "through rose-colored glasses." Vreeland achieves a detailed and surprising group portrait, individualized and immediate.

There are passages in this book that describe perfectly why I paint, why I have loved art from the moment I started to really see it - why I have based so many of my major life decisions around knowing more about it and being closer to it. Most importantly, why I do it. It also served to remind me how much I need more of it now, in my life.

Vreeland took great pains to make this historically accurate, and does so without making the situations and characters seem stiff or one-dimensional.

I know, however, what I'm writing right now seems pretty stiff and one dimensional. And for that I could not be more sorry - I loved this book and think all of you should read it. I may read it again, soon.

Til then, however, I have some painting to do . . .

This is Schiele,

and these are her fish.

We got her these fish after Mucha passed away. I wanted her to have something else living in the apartment with her when we were gone.

She *lurves* them. There's little kitten nose prints all over the glass on one side of the tank. It's hilarious. (The fish themselves, perhaps, find it less funny.)

9th Avenue International Food Fest

Mike and Skye were in town this year, and Katie and Nathan met us out - and it was AMAZING . . . as usual, of course. I spent the day holding beers and eating sugar-coated yummi-ness treats. Zeppolis were had by all, and I'm already looking forward to next year!

Beer.

Holding beers.

Beer. Again.

Possibly the result of one too many zeppolis.

Wait. There's no such thing as one too many zeppolis!

Beer belly? Baby belly? A question of the ages.

Good food. Good friends. More cheap beer.

It seems there's two solid facts about our street fair - it will always, in my mind, be the official start of summer - and it somehow attracts great friends to wander those 20 blocks with. There are few more enjoyable ways to spend an afternoon.

100 miles to go... I wanted to be sedated

Did the Montauk century ride this past Sunday with some buddies and had a blast. Basically rode the length of Long Island to the town of Montauk, which lies at the very end. The weather was perfect and the ride was amazing. They had rest stops every 25 miles or so that were loaded with all you could eat and drink and trust me when I say I ate... and ate... and ate. At the last rest stop they even had a Mr. Softy Ice Cream truck that was giving away free goodies to any rider that wanted one.

The 5BBC put on the ride and I highly recommend it to anyone. As tired as I am and as sore as my right knee is/was it was worth every ache. The route is amazing taking you through the richervilles known as the Hamptons and then through the beautiful seaside of Hither Hills State Park. Doing it again next year to those interested, we finished in the top 1/3 of riders, next year we'll try to keep up with the B riders (A level being the best, not being that ambitious).

The final stats were as follows:
Distance: 110 miles (had some before and after the 100 mile course.
Time on bike: 6 hours 40 minutes
Avg. speed: 15.5 mph
Calories burned: 5500 give or take

Preggers

Ignore the crazy eyes, we hadn't seen each other in a month, had just walked through pouring rain, and were having TONS of people (my former co-workers, all) ask us every question imaginable about being pregnant and babies. While feeling our tummies.


I hate this pic of me, PS, but you guys have been asking - and so here you are: pics of me looking pregnant (with one of my dearest friends in the city - due within 24 hours of each other).

Oh the pirate gets the ship and the girl tonight

Randomly this morning I put in the playlist from our wedding ceremony. (I wish desperately to this day we had a recording of our friends singing these songs . . .)

And when I got to the Indigo Girls "Mystery" I could, as if it were yesterday, feel exactly as I did when we first met. That first year we spent traveling halfway across a continent to see each other every four weeks or so. The long late night phone calls. Counting days and weeks til next he would land in my city.

Him waiting for me at the end of the gate at O'Hare with sunflowers and Gardettos.

And I thought to myself, this song has it all. It perfectly describes each of us - together and alone - and it makes me so happy.

We're so lucky to found what we have. I'm not sure how else to put it. Our mutual friends spent years trying to fix him up with every available single girlfriend they had, it seemed, but me.

No one thought we'd be compatible. And, on paper, I don't believe we probably are. But somehow it works. It sings. It dances.

We're headed down a road where our whole lives will be turned upside down, and every aspect of our life is bound to change. But one thing I know - this song will always ring true. This song will always be us.

I know in my heart, that as long as we're together, things will be more than alright.

Each time you'd pull down the driveway
I wasn't sure when I would see you again
Yours was a twisted blind sided highway
No matter which road you took then
Oh you set up your place in my thoughts
Moved in and made my thinking crowded
Now we're out in the back with the barking dogs
My heart the red sun
Your heart the moon clouded
I could go crazy on a night like tonight
When summer's beginning to give up her fight
And every thought's a possibility
And the voices are heard but nothing is seen
Why do you spend this time with me
Maybe an equal mystery

So what is love then, is it dictated or chosen
(handed down and made by hand)
Does it sing like the hymns of 1000 years
Or is it just pop emotion
(handed down and made by hand)
And if it ever was there and it left
Does it mean it was never true
And to exist it must elude
Is that why I think these things of you
I could go crazy on a night like tonight
When summer's beginning to give up her fight
And every thought's a possibility
And the voices are heard but nothing is seen
Why do you spend this time with me
May be an equal mystery

But you like the taste of danger
It shines like sugar on your lips
And you like to stand in the line of fire
Just to show you can shoot straight from you hip
There must be a 1000 things you would die for
I can hardly think of two
But not everything is better spoken aloud
Not when I'm talking to you

Oh the pirate gets the ship and the girl tonight
Breaks a bottle to christen her
Basking in the exploits of her thief
She's a very good listener
Maybe thats all that we need
Is to meet in the middle of impossibility
We're standing at opposite poles
Equal partners in a mystery
(handed down and made by hand)

We're standing at opposite poles
Equal partners in a mystery ...

What song reminds you of your loved one?

Milton Glaser - "Road to Hell"

" ...Because that is really the issue—what are you willing to do as part of your life as a designer when you are an intermediary between an audience and a client? Is your job simply to respond to everything the client wants, or do you say, “I have a personal responsibility, my sense as a citizen, to make some judgments about the implications of what I’m saying to people...”

Being a designer is more than just making things pretty. It's also, contrary to popular opinion, not the career you pick as a visual artist because it pays. It is not selling out. And it is simply not just selling.

I've been interviewing a lot of fresh-out-of-school grads lately - and this sense of greater definition of what seems like a small word coupled with a sense of social responsibility has been something I have, unconsciously until now, been seeking out. I realize looking back that the candidates I have most wanted on my team are ones who express a deep knowledge and understanding of a wider world and deeper purpose. Who know that as designers our medium is not paper or pen, not computer or mouse, but communication itself.

Story-telling. Dialog. Impetus.

What we're saying and how we're saying it are equally important.

I want to see, in my own work, as well as those I'm evaluating, more than good technique. In fact, the technique can be slightly off if the message is there. I can teach you how to make the perfect composition, I can wrangle mine until it works beautifully . . .but I can't translate for you, I can't explain a message that's not clear and true.

That's the beauty of what we do, I think. The fact that through the use of our multiple tools - through color and line, through font and placement, through a million small decisions we make about a million small things - we can move people. Entice them, tempt them and persuade them. Inform them, educate and spurn them into action.

(TBD - again)

Welcome to the world, Baby Adaela Amick!

(a day late, but heartfelt nonetheless)

We love you guys! So glad everyone is doing well!!

Samaire Alice Stiers... it's got a nice ring to it!

Alice Stiers was my grandmother, my dad's mom. She was sweet and sassy and sincere, all the best traits wrapped into one amazing woman. It's hard to describe my grandmother to someone who never met her and harder still to let people know just how huge an impact she made on me and how much I still miss her. The fact that my daughter will have Alice as her middle name fills me with a crazy amount of joy.

Alice was everything a grandmother should be. She had a boisterous laugh that would always make you smile, a powerful hug that at once made you feel at home, she was a great cook who made the best birthday cakes ever, she had unlimited patience (she put up with me, and yes, I was as big a smart-ass as a kid as I am now), and she gave an unlimited amount love, she adored and loved her family as much as anyone ever has, and it always showed.



I was lucky enough to know my grandmother for 23 years. One of my most prized possessions is a small stuffed bear she made me when I was born. Alice died of Parkinson’s in 2001 and the last several years of her life were not easy, but she never became overly negative or sad... I've met few people in this world stronger than Alice. Even in the roughest times, when she couldn't speak she would listen. When I would talk with her and tell her about my life I could tell she was drinking in every word with pride and love for her grandson. I've met few people in this world who are genuine 100% of the time, she was one.

One of the greatest compliments I've ever heard about Misty and I came from my grandfather when he told my dad that of everyone he'd known, Misty and I were most like he and Alice. They loved each other with a passion and dedication and friendship that puts the greatest romantic poems, movies and stories to shame.

Everything I could wish my daughter to be was embodied by my grandmother; kind, sassy, funny, outgoing, loving, respectful, smart, strong and talented (she played piano, sang and did I mention the amazing cook part). No parent can determine how their child will end up, you do your best and hope it all works out, and I know Samaire will have a part of Alice in her regardless of having her name, but I can't think of a better tribute to one of my favorite people and a better start to my newest love's life.

I love you both. Samaire - Alice, you'd of loved each other.

I forgot to tell you, officially . . . we chose a name!

Names are so very important. They're you on paper, they're first impressions, they're embodiments of your spirit: the part of you present on people's lips, in their words, when you aren't there. . .

Naming our children is in many ways, the beginning of their life story. A true name is said to have power, to be mystical. To determine some piece of self.

And, so, of course, I took naming our little girl quite seriously. We had a short list of names, and we poured over what they meant; what they held.

We wanted something beautiful, something strong. Something different, something with meaning. Not just a good definition, but true meaning. To us. To now. To her, in decades to come.

We asked for votes from people we knew, but looking back - I think the moment we put all the pieces together it was pretty obvious what her name would be.

Samaire (sah-MEER-ah) Alice

A name not common. A name, we think, holds beauty and grace. A name she will be explaining how to spell and pronounce from now until forever. (Ha. Might as well torment her from the very beginning, no?)

Her initials will be SAS - something Sam and I both feel is utterly appropriate, even now, before we've truly met her.

When you first look up the meaning of the name Samaire, you get that it's a gaelic name that means "chosen" or "blessed one." Which is awesome, of course. A nice definition, made all the finer that its in Gaelic, the same language our wedding ring inscriptions are in . . . but alas, our friend Joyce (who actually speaks Gaelic) hasn't ever heard of the name and is a little dubious that it's truly Irish in origin. Which, you know, fair.

But upon further research, Sam discovered it's actually Latin for Elm tree. This was the point at which I fell in love with this name.

First, because the elm tree is the home of the gods. It stands for strength of will and great intuition.

Even better, to me it will always be a symbol of home.

Sam and I's first home, and Samaire's too. Elms line one of our favorite places in this city, the Literary Walk in Central Park.

The Literary Walk is a great mall lined with huge, beautiful American Elm trees (the favorite tree of Olmsted, designer of the park). They form a cathedral ceiling to the pathway, and are absolutely breath-taking no matter what time of year you pass beneath them.

We love this part of the park, and if you visit us you will no doubt walk it's length, ending up at the Bethesda fountain (another place dear to my heart).

I love that Samaire's name will forever be tied to this place. For so many reasons. We won't live here forever, and I want her to know she always have a piece of this city with her. She will always be, to me at least, a New York City Girl.

I also believe there are few things in this world that stand comparing Sam and I to as much as Central Park. It is beauty and wildness in the midst of steel and stone. It is crowds of people finding solitude. It is at once perfectly natural and completely contrived.

It is a puzzle of contradictions. Yet the park itself would not be half so wondrous if not here in the midst of skyscrapers, and this city could not survive without this vast expanse of trees. They are at once wholly independent and completely intertwined.

Just like us.

So she'll have not just a piece of her first home with her, but a lot of why that means so much to her mom and dad. It's important, I think. It's not just a city or a location, it's a sort of spirit I want her to have surrounding her.

I want to begin her story rich in legend and myth; the kind of thing that grows without sense of time, and is filled with the strength of great love.

Of course, her middle name is no less important - but I believe I'll let Sam tell you all about that.

Coming Soon

My friends Leslie and Andy are eagerly awaiting the arrival of little Adaela right now. She should be joining us here in this spring-induced world any day now, and part of me can't help but think the whole world is getting ready for her; trees blossoming and birds coming out of the winter-harbored silence.

I'm so excited for them. They're two of the greatest people know and will make the most amazing parents. I know that little girl will grow up in a home filled with love and laughter - and I can't imagine anything more wonderful.

It breaks my heart we're so far away - but it also sends me to the moon with joy to think our daughters will grow up together. That they will look forward to Halloweens in Orlando, with all the adults dressing up as silly-as-they-dare to go trick or treating with them. That they will tromp through Central Park in the fall together, hearing stories of when mom and dad lived there. How wonderful and hard and fun and amazing it was.

They will hear about how the moms were friends, even before there were dads. How they met in Chipotle to discuss heartbreak and hope. How they grew up together, without each other somehow - and then the world decided they needed each other and crossed their paths.

How it's just an example of how you should trust your path. How the higher power up there, whomever he or she might be, is truly looking out for all of us.

Because look! Look at our little found-family!

I can't wait.

So, Little Adaela, be kind to your mommy and daddy. I know they shall be ever so kind to you.

And know, know in your deepest heart of hearts, you have another family you might not see right away - or even very often - that loves you deeply. That prays for you in their own strange way. That couldn't be more excited to see you, to meet you - to shower you with kisses and tickles and hugs.

That adores you already.

Godspeed, little A. The world waits in joyous anticipation. Our garden is full of soft green grass and tulips, the birds have been singing - even the gray skies of our great city have turned blue for you.

See you soon!






(P.S. I don't know how I look so pregnant in the above photo, tho it's possible the gods shone down us for it, as it would be the only "both of us preggers!" pic Les and I would be able to take. It seems me looking pregnant has something to do with the planets' alignment, what day of the week it is and the just right outfit. Odd, I know. But true.)

Paris

more to come soon . . . but for now, just have time for pics. :)

Paris was

amazing
romantic
wonderful
beautiful
inspiring
awe-striking


I want to go back. Now.

We stayed across the street from the Louvre. You really don't get better than that.

I promise to share photos of the great time we had soon. . ..

I love Paris in the Springtime . . .

Or at least I'm assuming I will - I guess I'll find out tomorrow night!!!

Jobs

I have felt a lot of guilt over the years - some self-inflicted, some as a result of comments thrown out by friends - over my choice of job. My career.

And it's caused me some heartache. I let it reach me in my core and make me doubt where I was and what I was doing. Even more importantly WHY I was doing it. It never felt legitimate. It always felt like I was selling out, being second-rate, or somehow not doing something as important as "making art." However one wants to define that ...

(Though in these past few years, I have grown in confidence and know now I've always been creating art, sending out messages: being "creative." But it took me a while to get there and feel comfortable with it. Confident in it.)

But then, from time to time I find bits of quotes that remind me exactly WHY I have chosen the path I have, like this one:

Do you have any advice for people just entering the profession?
Be a great storyteller and the world will be yours. - Andy Greenaway

I've always loved stories, I just choose to tell mine in a non-conventional way - and I'm happy that I'm finally coming to peace with that.

P.S. If you're interested in one of my career-heroes - click here and read an interview with Milton Glaser

Inspired!

" . . .When we bring that daring side of our selves to the fore, we not only grow as human beings, we increase the chances of stumbling on something that makes true social change possible. . . "

This is awesome.

And between reading this article and having a friend is is willing to step out on that limb as well . . . I'm dedicating my next year to re-finding the artist I am.

I want Maire to learn about what it means to find your way, to dream, to be your true self. To live an authentic life.

And I want her to learn it by seeing me do it. I want it to be real for her.

Moving on, Somehow

Well, it's been a rough time of it lately. I feel like my heart's been torn out of my chest and haven't much wanted to talk about (or to) the outside world.

Last week was insane, and I still feel like I'm mourning. There seemed to be no time for it - it was my last week at Ogilvy and my friends turned out full force to throw me a going away/ baby shower party and it was amazing. Then we had friends in from out of town all weekend; and between no sleep, very little to eat and a general constant striving to be happy and normal -- I'm wiped.

I had Monday and Tuesday off, and yesterday was the first full day of my new job. It's very cool so far, and the people I work most closely with are pretty awesome.

I even have an office! With windows! I share it, but that's okay. I'm actually quite enjoying it.

just goes to show I guess that sometimes you amke a decision contrary to what seems like common sense and it ends up being the absolute best thing you could do.

But more on that later. Promise.

Good-bye My Sweet Girl

Today Misty and I said good-bye to a dear friend and a big part of our family. We had to put Mucha to sleep.



For those who didn't get the chance to meet her, she was simply a loving, always there for you best friend. I was never a cat person before I met her, but she had my heart soon after I moved to NYC. I already miss having her curl up on my lap and meow at me when something wasn't going her way. She'd clean your fingers and make sure you were ok. She wiggled her butt right before she pounced on her woobie, which she would place in her food bowl as soon as you were done playing.

She was a friend, a buddy and a love of my life. I miss you sweet girl and am glad you're watching over us, you will always have a place in our hearts. All my love.

SS

Alas, "Venkman" is Officially Off the Table

So Sam and I are super excited to tell all of you that our little new addition to our family is going to be a healthy and undoubtably feisty and sassy, little GIRL!

And, in my humble-yet-horribly-biased opinion, she's possibly the most beautiful thing ever.




P.S. Please don't write and tell me she could still be a boy. She's not. We know this and are SUPER EXCITED. No raining on parades allowed today. :)

These boots were made for walkin' . . .

Quit my job today after five years of loyal service.

I start my new fancy, shiny job April 2nd ('cause I coudln't bear to start on April Fool's Day - supersticious lot that I am). Rumor is I'll be a fancy muckity muck, or at least that's what my designer told me this morning when I told him about me leaving and what my new job will be.

"Fancy Muckity Muck" - I'll take it!

Everything is changing . . .all for the better. I'm excited and thrilled and absolutely terrifed, just like I should be.

Yay, new adventures!

Pacific Street

There are oceans in our neighborhood.

I have that spark that drives me far away. Far away from my familiar. My family. My friends. I pulled at the reigns of my home town, of every thing I knew. I gasped for air as if the very sky could choke me if I but stood still.

I dreamt bigger than people thought was safe. I refused council and strode forward on my own. I burnt bridges along the way; I left the path. I got lost.

I never quite made it back to where I started, but that was always okay.

I swear I've never been this far before.

I looked to the night sky and wandered. When I felt the grasp of someone's hopes too hard on my heart, I packed up and moved on. I couldn't share my dreams, my path. I would not settle for roots when I knew I could have wings.

I feel restless and I can't sleep.

I would not dream of flying when I could fly.

It wasn't alwasy easy and I was rarely sure. There were many lonely nights of the stereo turned too loudly so my neighbors wouldn't hear me cry. Many early mornings wandering the streets of a city that often felt not quite right, looking for where I must have put my wings.

Where they must be, in this city of millions.

Washed up in some corner bar.

I reveled in being one of thousands. I felt, all the same, out of step.

And then one day, as I turned a corner I had a hundred times before, it was home. Suddenly in the rain and the mist. In the dirty crowd among the buses, I was home.

Stay where we are . . .

And suddenly the sky felt far away, wide and open. The sidewalks stretched before me with every adventure I had ever dared dream.

And my heart soared on wings it had always possesed. Past the buildings, past my fears. Past my loneliness.

Not because you found my wings, not even becasue you gave them to me. But simply because you smiled.

I don't know you except for the way a traveler knows a traveler.

Looking Forward

We sat around the table and drank a bottle of wine
And it poured around us like a moat till no one could get us, and I was fine
And I said, "Haven't I paid my dues by now, haven't I paid my dues by now
Haven't I paid my dues by now, don't I get the right to choose?
And I choose you to take up all of my time
I choose you because you're funny and kind
I want easy people from now on

Music does strange things. It transcends time and place and often - can bring to you a person who maybe wasn't even around when you discovered to the sounds, but somehow so embody the feel of what you're listening to you can no longer separate the two.

I'm going home in a couple weeks, back to Kansas. Going back there has become harder and harder for me as time has gone by - the list of people I've somehow neglected for years just gets longer and longer. The distance almost gets worse when I am closer. There seems to be no end to the events and requirements and obligations and then, in the two seconds between it all, there's those few who just stand, waiting patiently.

I'm staying with one of those people when I get back. I've held off all kinds of guilt and asking and expectations so she and I can sit, and - well, catch up. You see it's been years. Decades, really. Lifetimes, actually.

My house is full of empty rooms and broken frames and other people's stuff
In my house we see by Christmas lights and your TV, and that seems to be enough
To see what we want to see
You let me be who I want to be
And we'll be easy from now on, from now on

And I find myself looking forward to those couple short nights more than I can put into words. I wish there words to describe how I feel about her. About how somehow when we're together it's so easy for me to see her at 16, to see myself at 17. To see who we were then.

To remember how unrelentingly she supported me through so many truly awful times. I can't count how many tears she witnessed me shedding. How many times, when I was out of hope, she handed me more than I could carry.

Why can't I be easy, why can't I be easy like you?

I have no excuse for the time that passed. For the distance I let grow between us. The reasons were stupid and selfish and most horribly, just neglectful. But we're finding our way back, I think . . . and I feel blessed for that. I feel blessed for having this second chance. Because, honestly? She's more than just my friend. She's my family. And I don’t say that lightly. In a way, it was those years away that crystallized that for me. The fact that she was always somehow in my heart, no matter what, or what wasn't, going on between us. She never left my thoughts.

For you I would give the songs I write, the words I pray, the morning light
That pumps into this room today, if you would only rise, if you would only say
"I want you to take up all of my time
I want you because you're funny and kind
And we'll be easy from now on, from now on"

On my last trip when I finally got to sit with her for a while and just talk. Well. It was like coming home. I know that sounds overly dramatic, but it was. A kind of home I'm starting to value more then any of the other fanciful and sentimental definitions of the word used most.

So, despite the craziness in my life right now and all the unknowns – I’m reveling in the thought of going to spend a couple days with one of the people I love most. And listening to this song makes me all the more excited to go.


"Easy People," The Nields

There has never been anything false about HOPE.

Ya'll this all means so much to me, this video actually brought me to tears. Vote, please. We are blessed to take part in our government - to BE a part of our governement. To have voices that can be heard. Speak out today.

Caddywhompus Causes Crazy

Well, my life is a bit of a mess right now - I'm in the (I'll admit blessed) position of making quite a few big decisions and suddenly, now - this minute - the weight of making them for myself, Sam and Spud is weighing exponentially heavy on my heart. It's a weight I've been carrying for quite some time now and seems to only be getting heavier the more time that passes. I have no doubt as soon as I stomp my foot and demand my party, I will feel better - but for the moment I feel small and overwhelmed and like my dad just told me I may never have a golden goose.

And, dammit. I want that goose.

So in the midst of this I've had an incessant need to fix up our apartment RIGHT. NOW. I want it clean and orderly and organized and I want everything little thing to have its place. I'm getting obsessive about this in ways I didn't even know were possible - and let me tell you, I am one obsessive/compulsive little girl.

Sam has been overwhelmingly patient through all this, though I think his recent short trips AWAY from the apartment minus me have been his own secret blessing.

So, for now, I'm living in an apartment with old computers spread about, dust bunnies in corners that haven't seen the light of day for four years and small just STUFF looking helpessly lost on counters, in chairs, one the floor in piles. And it's driving me INSANE.

I know that my incessant need to organize and make clean our apartment now is directly tied to the fact that the rest of my life seems hopelessly scattered, undecided and unknown. I'm desperate for some calm, some peace, some certainty - and, well, a nice apartment will have to fill the gap for now.

I'm counting on the rest to follow. ‘Til then, I'm counting down the days until our new furniture arrives and if you need me - I'll be the one exclaiming "why?! why do we have this?!" repeatedly from a cloud dust and miscellaneous mish-mash.

But man will it be nice soon.

I hope.