getting deep

Nothing get's me fired up like reading comments on articles by people who are fully and completely…. well, dumb. Or rather, so ignorant they sound like complete heartless idiots.

I'd like to suggest a few things to the person who posted the following comment in regards to an article about GMO foods. (And add: Does it make you nervous that most of Western Europe has banned them? It should.)

S/he took 'it' to a whole new level. I have not edited it in any way, just left it in its ridiculous original state. The grammar alone makes me cringe:

"Has any of the hysterical crises of the Leftists ever come true For example there is; Nuclear Winter, Global Cooling, Global Warming, Heterosexual AIDS outbreaks, population bomb, food shortages, clean water shortages, Acid Rain, Brazilian deforestation, America 2 feet deep in disposable diapers. And those are what I can think of in the first 30 seconds. You know you are facing another made-up crisis when the only solution the Left can think of for fixing the crisis is more government, more income redistribution, less freedom and protests with large paper mache puppets."

It rankles! And my reply which I would have loved to share with the person, but didn't because does it change anything? Probably not.

First: Just because you have access to fresh water and food doesn't mean millions (yes, millions) of people in the world are living without. Step across our Southern border, or try getting on a plane sometime and you'll find that there are more people living without clean water and plentiful food than there are people WITH. Even better, head over to the other side of your pretty town where it's not so pretty.

Second: AIDS is still a huge problem, and mainly in the heterosexual communities of the world, particularly on the continent of Africa. Infection is rising at an alarming rate. Just because we managed to create awareness in the US and helped to avoid a longer-term epidemic doesn't erase the fact that it exists elsewhere.

Third and final: Deforestation is still a major problem all over the world and especially where there have been "population bombs".

If you've been lucky enough to live untouched by poverty, hunger, disease, or any awareness that these things exist outside of your tiny bubble… It breaks my heart a little because you have no compassion for the many souls whose lives are affected by these things every day.

Pause rant. Breathe.

It's true though: We don't live in 2 feet of disposable diapers. Not right here, but head down to your local waste disposal site and you'll find them. And it's more than two feet deep.

photo: City Clerk, Seattle 1954

soaking it up

We're expecting our first tiny human in June and I know I can't begin to fathom what that love will feel like, what that little sleep will feel like, and of course I struggle with the fear "What kind of mother will I be?"

I know I've got the love, but what about the patience and the survival instinct to live through the exhaustion? I'm no spring chicken (I'm no chicken at all). I'm not exactly ancient, but I'm not 22 when I used to sleep only a couple of hours a night and still have a productive day.

It's easy to get overwhelmed. By reading options, by the future, by life. Even by the Pup who suddenly needs a whole lot of attention (or the same amount as last week but it feeeeeels like so much more).
I have been reading everything I can get my hands on, and most of it has nothing in common with anything else. But I'm trying to soak it all up, absorb knowledge through every pore.

I jump from page to page, the internet spreading out before me offering information on every possible subject. I have found myself pondering computer-generated photos of tiny animals in the womb, an Iraqi orphan curled up on a chalk outline of her mother (I am skeptical that she drew it herself, but it's awfully sweet), a friend's blog with beautiful photos of life with new baby and a two year old. And then I realize all of my random web surfing all does sort of relate. Tinies in one form or another; new to the world, new to us. There's so much to learn! So much to read!

I think it's a bit like trying to take in the whole picture instead of focusing on the little moments that make up a day. I am reading a book called Momma Zen, and I have decided I would like to view things like the author does: Don't have expectations. Or if you do, know that anything and everything can change and you have to roll with that, too. And it is exactly how it should be.

In the last few days I have felt something in there - little movements that I have to focus on to feel and even then they are elusive. We heard a heartbeat on the doppler, we saw a little being on the ultrasound. This is happening.

It's not as we expected (much sooner, much easier) but it's been perfect in it's surprising little way. Excitement, nervousness, wonder, and a sort of foggy bliss that we ride in waves. So much to prepare. So much to be thankful for. And so much to love.



photo courtesy of houseandleisure.co.za

back

It's official: I did not make time to write while renovations were underway. And by were, I mean Are. Here we are creeping up on one year and we are still working on stair railings, baseboards, toe kicks, exterior painting (gotta wait out the rain on that one) and.... the list goes on.
But! I did have a moment a few weeks ago when I looked around at all we have accomplished and thought, "Oh my goodness, this is becoming my dream home." The afternoon light was floating through the windows, we had just installed our concrete counters (which took weeks to build forms, pour, perfect, sand, polish, seal, wax) and here I was walking around this beautiful little house with really only finishing touches remaining.

I can't quite see the light at the end of the tunnel. I think we both see all of the things awaiting our attention. Some days I just cook and clean and do normal "life stuff" and pretend nothing else exists (like painting, sanding, excavating, digging, planting). It's fun to play house as if life were just work, walks with Pup, dinner, sleep, work, weekends. Like how they used to be in my imaginary Less Stressful Life.
I admit I prefer to reframe my history as a very smooth transition from one calm moment to another. It feels nice to think that life will become calm again and I will feel like my navigational skills are working and my head isn't too full for paying attention during a conversation or getting creative with new recipes (did someone say: "Pick three meals and rotate them for a year. It's a good idea!"!?).

It's not about bean tostadas vs vegetables and rice or pasta sauce with polenta. It's not about three straight months of canned soup heated up in the microwave (when the only kitchen we had was on top of the dryer in the basement, and the only shower was the laundry sink - also in the basement). It's about remembering 12+ hour days seven days a week for six months followed by just seven days a week as a really fun, lively adventure filled with laughs and silliness.

It's not like anyone got hurt....

Oh, except when we moved the counters those last two inches and I crushed the side of my hand, had a vasovagal response (seriously, look it up) which ended with me passing out and falling against a wall which resulted in whiplash and searing pain in my back.

So, I'm back. And my back hurts. But at least our counters are beautiful and I love our kitchen and I cannot believe that at the end of all of this we will have this beautiful little home together. Every detail represents hours of thought and discussion, compromise and careful intention. We created a place we think we will like in the future, love right now, and there's no going back. We're almost there.

to wreck, and then...

Today's quote from last week since I wrote this a week ago and didn't have time to click "post":

"Thank you for not leaving me when I was intolerable." 

It works for almost every scenario, including remodels with the one you love and the sort of exhaustion that only intense, months-long renovations can incur.

We're not out of the woods, yet. We've barely got walls, let alone floors, sinks, toilets or a shower. We do have windows, and the drywall is up. We're working on ductwork and someone else is working on mudding, taping, sanding and priming. And it's only a few days before we move in. I think we'll be sleeping in a corner of the basement and showering at the gym. 

It's like one of those funny stories from college, except that we're not in college. We're working professionals who have to shower and dress for work Monday through Friday and walk the dog twice a day. We're more than tired and it's not summer and it's soaking wet outside. We're worried about the basement flooding, the exposed insulation, and the fact that we haven't put gutters on the eaves.

At least there's heat and we can always pull out the camp stove (if we had time to cook). I keep reminding myself it will all be over soon and our little house will be a home. I'll have time to read and make things (like dinner), and visit with friends and regale them with stories about this one time with the ladder and almost falling backward down the stairs. Either that, or I'll just point toward [what will be] the beautiful kitchen and say, "We chose that."

In the meantime, I'll enjoy my last few days in a rental where someone else is responsible for when the roof leaks and when we need a new washer. (Psssssst: Babe-eh-loo: We need a washer and dryer.)


One week later:

It's freezing outside (almost literally) but dry. The ductwork is done, the drywall has been mudded, taped, sanded and primed. We packed and stored all of our stuff over the weekend and our cabinets were delivered today. Which means we should probably order our counter tops. And probably the tile for the bathroom.

We bought a new washer and dryer. And a refrigerator, stove, microwave, and dishwasher but we haven't installed a toilet. It's not even close to done, but it's closer than it was last week. And that is all we can hope for, really.

check out schoolhouse electric because it's fun

and restoration hardware these days is amazing.

the deep

I thought, "Sure, I'll post updates weekly as we renovate. We can share before and after and during photos and laugh and hang out and chat about our remodel adventure."

That was before, when we had free time and friends. When we cooked at home and vacuumed. When we could find time for movies and reading, laundry and grocery shopping.

Now we're nearly five months in, demolition is over, we've excavated and resealed the foundation (nearly done with backfilling). We're in the midst of wiring outlets and lights. I insulated the water pipes over the weekend, we have a new porch. And we haven't seen our friends in months (not totally literally, but just about literally). One friend even said, "Oh no, you don't understand. You won't see them [meaning us] unless you go to The House to see them." And they're right. We're completely consumed. Every detail needs a decision, a measurement, a product ordered.

There's no time for photos, for updates, for reminiscing or pondering just where that pretty painting will go. There are only decisions and labor. Manual labor. I remember the day I said, "That's the one thing I don't do: Dig." One week later I was covered in dirt, my hands had actual digging callouses, and I had sealing tar in my hair as I sat at the bottom of a 6 foot trench wrapping a footing drain.

Adam told the neighbors as they walked by, "We're building a moat!"

We are exhausted. Working 15+ hours a day, seven days a week, and it has been months now. Everyone (I mean it) says, "Oh, I know, it's hard but it's totally worth it, right?" And we smile and say, "Yes yes yes" whilst growling inside and wondering when the end result will happen. We're not to the "It was hard, but it was totally worth it" zone. It's just hard, and stressful, and we have no idea if what we've conceived as the perfect, adorable, cozy, inviting place will be what we pictured as Home.

But really, we love it. The house will be wonderful. It will be ours, exactly as we designed it after 37+ floor plans and countless revisions and questions.

This took me two days to write, and I'm sorry but there are no photos of the house. Just a photo of us in Scotland in August, when we had a full week to ourselves poking around in castles. Before we were in so deep. Before I became a champion digger. Or at least before I picked up a shovel.

even when

Sometimes it's hard to be cute. Not everyone has the ability to say things that are totally delightful or can walk around blinking like a baby owl (as you know: the epitome of cuteness). I like the ones who surprise you and catch you off guard. Like the little guy in the middle on the far right. He's pretty cute. And oops! Looks totally surprised; just trying to look like a Panda.

I am not cute today. I woke up before Mister Important made the Earth (like, very early) and didn't bother to shower. I did shower last night, but that only meant my hair looked nice before I went to bed. Once I slept on it (partially wet as it was) it looked a little awkward.

We have a mirror by the door to our office and it's job is pretty simple: To mock you each time you walk by and make snide remarks like, "Oh, what, woke up early today?" And, "You look tired."

Which, by the way, is a terrible thing to say to somebody. I try and pre-empt it with over-zealous protective commentaries about myself looking tired. "I know, I look totally awful. " Or, "Ugh, I feel like a zombie, and probably look like one, too." It's not like I'm fishing for compliments or that I have a low self esteem. I just don't want someone to tell me I look tired. Even when I look really really tired.

what the world is made of

Here are some words from a mother who's teenage daughter had a major stroke recently. I keep reading them with awe at her sense of gratefulness in response to something that most of us would tremble to even think about. If I can take anything from this, it is the aspiration to step into life with this sense of grace and appreciation. As a wise friend said, "The greatest part of our happiness depends on our dispositions, not our circumstances."

I wish I could spin my moments of unhappiness into something so beautiful. The least I can do is wonder at a mother who is watching her child relearn everything she once knew, from language to walking and hopefully one day to singing and dancing. The most I can do is learn to reframe the not-so-special times into something I can learn from, and hopefully look upon those times as a gift. If not, there's always a chance to laugh at my own silliness.

"Between watching this beautiful and amazing creature courageously rebuild her body and her vocabulary, and these people I have called my best friends for decades move heaven and earth to help her, I am quite overcome most of the day, everyday. I feel as if someone said, "Sit. Watch. This is what the world is really made of. There's more beauty and love and joy here than you could possibly imagine. Remember this and nothing that could ever happen will shake you again." I am forever changed."
                                              -m.b.q.




[photo courtesy of lavender and dash]

floor plans

It's not every day you look around at 20 houses or so and pick the one that is not inhabitable. It may have a huge yard and loads of potential, it may even have a garage and a full basement. But it does not have safe floors, there are pieces missing, and there is rot. Also, someone decided it would be fun to see how much water a basement can hold.

Truth be told, this isn't our first rodeo. We've successfully moved into two old, dirty, paint-flaky, stinky houses that had lots of potential that we were willing to paint, clean, deodorize and live in. And we did paint, clean, deodorize and live in them, and they turned out great. Nice, even. We just haven't bought one before.

As it turns out we kinda like this sort of thing, and here we are on the verge of something a little bit crazy. We have no idea (really) what we're getting ourselves into. Neither one of us are carpenters (or plumbers or smithies or window replacers or basement fixer-uppers). We've never sanded our own wood floors or tried to replace a door frame. We've painted (a lot) and we have drawn up 37+ floor plans and even created them in SolidWorks in 3D. We've studied hundreds of kitchens and bathrooms and asked questions and put the kitchen where the bathroom is and the bedroom where the other bedroom was.

And we've signed papers. Lots and lots of papers. And it's nearly ours (but not quite yet).

You know what that means: You're about to the join the adventure, too. Because I have a feeling I won't be able to hold back when I get oh-so-excited about finding a salvaged glass door knob to fit the pint-size door upstairs, and I know I'll probably go hog-wild when things get too crazy and the total bill is waaaay more than we expected (it always is).

But  it's nearly ours.

And we have help.




Pretty kitchen photo courtesy of House Beautiful, the others: that's what we're working with. yep. There is the before.... and the wishes for the after.

Shiny

I am distracted by these sparkles that are dancing around on the keyboard as I type. Lovely and perfect, they embody a million different thoughts and emotions that bounce against each other like spheres of rubber (aka bouncy balls) when I look at it. It's fancy. It's old. It's antique, created by some talented craftsman in 1925. I'll never know the story, but I can tell you mine.

We went hiking over a river and through the woods to a Lake. The weather was amazing for May, and I started calling Pup "The Lone Ranger" as he darted out ahead on the trail and disappeared and then darted back to check on us. He was leaping over streams and we were sort of slipping and jumping after him. I wouldn't describe my moves as graceful, but we were having a blast and the day was full of jokes and laughter and admiration for the beautiful woods, the blue sky, and the brief glimpses of a glassy lake through the trees.

It was a bit farther than we had expected, and I have a little blister to prove it. (Far is not so bad when you're with someone wonderful and the day is beautiful and the Pup is happy.)

Once we arrived at the Lake, (it was a perfect reflection of the snowy mountains), we sat and were sweet to each other. We talked of our new house, and how stressed out we've been and how we don't want to do that anymore (stress, I mean). We held hands and talked about our future, about the plans for the house, and building a Home. He said he loved me, and he wanted to grow old with me, and then he knelt down...

This is where you're thinking: Oh my goodness!! He's going to propose!! And I have to tell you that I was not thinking this. I was noticing his hand in his pocket, and I was thinking, "Oh, no. He's trying to cup those snotty tissues I gave him away from his leg." (I'd had a bit of a runny nose on our hike and had nowhere to put them so I had handed them over.) I was feeling bad about the tissues, and overjoyed at his sweetness and caught off guard by this talk of that far-off future of growing old together. 

But he did propose. He knelt down in the rocks and the drift wood and said that he loved me and would I marry him? I said, "Are you serious?" and could not for the life of me figure out what was going on. After three years of anticipating this very moment (we've been dating for six) I had boasted that I would definitely know when this was coming and there was no way he'd surprise me.

But he did.

He surprised me on a day which was perfect from beginning to end. He had waited for weeks for the perfect moment, he had asked my parents for their blessing months ago. We hiked back, we sipped wine, we discussed a someday wedding, and he told me what my Papa had said, and what my Mum had said. He looked at me with such love in his eyes, and I felt such joy. 

Do you need to know what comes next? Do I? My cheeks hurt from smiling. My heart is full. I think that's enough.

all the things

Perhaps you've heard of this thing called Pinterest? As someone who gathers photos of all sorts of things (art, fashion, shoes, sparkles, wedding ideas, party cakes... the list goes on and on) and who used to add those photos to random files on my computer, this site is like a giant inspiration board.

I love being able to scroll through friends' and strangers' boards, and you can even "pin" other people's pretties to your own unique board. I highly recommend it, if you are a saver of images as I am.

And yes, you're already in danger if you are even considering it. It took me a few months of urging before I tried it.

And then I pinned all the things.

walter

Today is for silliness and ridicule of the kinds of silliness that we just don't like. That means I have a rant in my head but I'm going to leave it at that and move on to Gotye:

Great music, interesting lyrics, and I like his music video (see below). I also saw him live-ish on Saturday Night Live and thought he was damn good for being on a tiny stage on a late night comedy show. His new album 'Making Mirrors' is out now, and if you want to know a little more go here. For some more: fun details.

Now that we've covered Gotye/Gaultier/Wouter/Walter, let me say just a little something about people who are condescending or who question your integrity and treat you as a young thoughtless person (when you clearly are not). Surprisingly, I am not speaking about anyone's treatment of myself, but treatment of another. It can be more irritating sometimes.

I suppose life would not be nearly as interesting without thoughtless people who have no skills in the "how to treat others" department. And so I pose the question: Who doesn't know the Golden Rules?

I'm pretty sure I can sum them up quickly; I've known them for a long time. I think most everyone should know them by about the time they, oh, learn to stick a fork in their own mouth without poking an eye out. Difficult, yes. Impossible, no.

Because you asked, and because I am more than prepared to share, here are the Golden Rules as I understand them:

Share when you're in the sand box, don't throw toys at other kids' heads, and don't pee on people.

It's pretty straightforward.

photos courtesy of soundslikerl

the waiting

Oh, the waiting.

I've been trained to act like I'm patient, but secretly (or perhaps not secretly at all) I am not. Especially when it's something really really exciting like chocolate, or date night, or buying a house. And this is where the waiting becomes almost unbearable and I walk around dancing a little bit trying to shake out the anticipation.

We started looking recently, and weren't exactly in any kind of rush. But then we met with a contractor. And an agent. And a mortgage guy. And then we put the estimate together (it includes a total renovation from the ground up). And then we put in the offer.

And now we wait.

When it comes down to it, I'm not sure I'm cut out for this sort of thing. The excitement mixed with stress and planning and all of the possibilities of a future life in this one-day-will-be-pretty house scribble all over my brain and make me a little bit of a nutcase. I wake up in the middle of the night planning out the garden and thinking about adding a tiny window to that one Southeast wall for morning light.

eeeeeep!

I have been crossing my fingers but trying to remind myself that if it doesn't happen there is something better out there. I hope I will remember that if/when they come back and say, "Sorry we sold it to someone else" I won't curse them. And then cry.

photo courtesy of trendir.com

under/over

There's nothing like a little inspiration from someone who's out in the world doing kind things for humanity to get you thinking.

Or me, rather.

I'm thinking about a friend's mom who is painting schoolhouses in Thailand. She's been to Africa several times, too. She's an artist, a designer, and a pretty amazing, kind person.

I'm pretty nice most days, but I have to admit my time helping others has been more limited than it should be (although my goals are lofty). I have volunteered here and there, and even spent my 31st birthday with a group of friends picking up garbage in a park near my house. We found a laptop, used syringes and condoms, and some beach balls. We wore gloves and drank beer, and followed it up with birthday cake served out of the back of a truck. I was proud of the several large trash bags of junk we picked up.

We once volunteered to help a water sports company spend a morning helping blind kids and teens learn to water ski (and boat and float). Pretty amazing how fearless they were!

And now to the point: I often think of these words from The Lupine Lady "Miss Rumphius" (from the wonderful children's book) and her directive to "do something to make the world more beautiful."

There is so much we can do; are we doing it?

To quote the lovely lady painter in Thailand, "The young Thai women involved in the project are some of the most lovely in spirit I have ever met. Culturally they are deeply respectful and affectionate. I am held tightly in thanks for each small thing I do - and they skip up to me and laughingly grab my hand to hold. These are not children. They are in their early- to mid-twenties. If I try to cross a street, invariably one of them will put an arm in front of me, protecting me from any harm that may come my way. I am actually stunned by the sweetness of it all."

Does it count just being nice to people? Smiling at your neighbor and saying hello to people on the bus? What about digging in your garden and picking up old beer cans in the alley? I'd like to think that kindness in little ways helps, too, but I know there are a million more ways to affect the world and to make it more beautiful.

I'm not sure if redecorating or sewing a pretty dress helps much, but I'm going to keep on trying (while I quietly create a list of other helpful things I can do).

Miss Rumphius

Color Gypsy

two feet and a fist

Our health industry is "interesting." I've never really had to take part in it except for that one time I had a concussion, the other time with having my wisdom teeth removed, and a pretty consistent "lady checkup."

Maybe my upbringing had something to do with it. We didn't visit the doctor's office when we had a cold, or when we sprained an ankle. Our parents seemed to know enough to take us in when they thought we might have a broken arm or when we seemed to need stitches (which means there was actually something the doctors could do).

You could argue they just got lucky.

Far be it for me to judge as I've only been visiting my new doctor for two years. But I will. (You knew that was coming.)

I am frustrated. Beyond frustrated actually, as here I sit another month into a grueling "what the what is wrong with me?" adventure.

With the help of a nutritionist and some serious online sleuthing, I finally got my doctor to take me seriously and do a series of blood tests. It just so happens that my thyroid was not in awesome working order, also my Vitamin D levels were super low (duh, considering I live in Seattle).

The thyroid issue can happen for a variety of reasons, and a pretty ridiculous percentage of people (women and men) have thyroid problems. Lots more probably undiagnosed. My numbers weren't outrageous compared to some, but for me they meant: not sleeping through the night, feeling exhausted (like my limbs were filled with lead) no matter how much sleep I got, feeling cold ALL of the time, hoarse voice, lack of creativity (and I'm a designer in every aspect of my life), low excitement and grumpy/sad/moody. If you know me, then you'll know that is not normal. The list goes on and on, but those are some of the big ones.

As for the Vitamin D, I take a 2,000 IU capsule every day and I haven't gotten a cold all winter (except for that one time when I forgot to take my Vitamin D for a week).

So I'm on a low dose of thyroid hormone for the rest of my life. It has helped a lot in a lot of ways, but I'm having episodes every month or two that include:

Feeling like I've-been-hit-by-a-truck tired (regardless of 'sleeping' 9-10 hours a night).

Not able to sleep through the night.

Nauseated to the point of hovering over the toilet.

I stop cooking (which I love, and do typically every day).

I don't want to see anyone (and I live for my friend visits and catching up time).

This makes me unbelievably sad. The thought of seeing someone and having them ask, "Hey, how's it going?" makes me cry.

Literally.

This is not normal. I know it's not normal. And yet, when I visit my doctor or call to make an appointment for a blood test they say, "Well, you are getting older. Try drinking a lot of water for a week and see what happens."

I've been drinking 5 or more 22 ounce bottles of water a day. That's 110 ounces of H20!!! I only weigh 20-odd pounds more than that! I'm nearly drinking my weight in water every day and I feel awful. I don't drink coffee, I don't drink alcohol more than once or twice a week (yay for Saturdays!). I've been working out. I don't work long hours. I eat mostly home-cooked meals. My breakfast is yogurt and granola with blueberries. I think I could do with some more salads but I don't drink soda and I don't smoke. I watch my salt intake. I am not pregnant.

It comes in waves for a week every month or two. I've been back to the doctor three times to ask about this, as I read it could be side effects from the medication. She responded, "I really don't think so."

And here's where the judgment comes in: If you only have 15 mins with a patient once a year (unless they're a total irritation like me and come back four or five times) you are bound to make assumptions regardless of knowing next to nothing about them. These are most likely pulled from lots of reading, and lots of people who need a doctor to give them drugs. I don't want drugs. I don't even want the ones I'm supposed to take. I just want a definitive answer to figure out why I'm swinging like a pendulum from feeling pretty good to feeling totally, unbearably awful, on what is becoming a regular basis. I want the person who paid outrageous amounts of money and spent long, intense hours studying to help me.

Apparently it may take more than fifteen minutes. I'd like a second opinion, and perhaps you could refer me to a specialist. Or at least understand that I'm not making this up and that after 34 years of life lived in a pretty clear-about-myself state, I might actually know a little something about how I am feeling and that it's not a lack of hydration.

It's just a thought.

photo courtesy of savvy patient

nearly there

Winters in the Northwest invite you to hibernate for about.... oh, four to six months. It's not exactly required, and you may feel enthusiastic enough to go out and play in the mountains, take a couple of trips, and perhaps even take long walks every single day (your dog may require it of you, and you may oblige). But compared to the energy and enthusiasm of Spring, Summer and Fall... Well, let's just say things are a bit different in Winter.

The cherry trees, crocus, and daffodils are blooming now. Buds are emerging on branches everywhere, and I walk around feeling pretty darn delighted. I find myself coming up with projects (when two weeks ago I was bemoaning the fact that I didn't have any projects and couldn't think of any). I painted the trim in our hallway. I painted our bathroom. I reorganized the basement and rearranged my design studio. It's like the fog and sleepiness of winter has thinned and dispersed, and suddenly I notice all sorts of things to do! Pretty exciting, really.

Today is heavy with torrents of rain and wind. The streets are deserted as we watch from our office windows hoping to see the action of someone caught in this monsoon. Just as the day seems as if it is about to go dark, the clouds break a little and the room lights up.

I'm pretty sure I've yawned about 4,387 times today, but I swear I'm feeling perky. It's only a matter of time before Spring really is here (no more snow, like on Tuesday!) and then Summer is sure to follow. I look forward to BBQ's and boating, long evening walks and perhaps a couple of camping trips.

In the meantime I will busy myself with household thrills like mopping the floor and dusting out the cupboards. And maybe some more painting...

Irish seaside courtesy of this is glamorous

Oregon cherry blossoms

Spring cherry tree

piano

My fingers meet the ivory keys only once or twice a year but when they do, they dance. It feels like twirling, falling, flying, and the weight of the keys on my childhood upright grand is a familiar balancing act. A few of the lowest keys are off, and the felt has worn away, but the sound is lovely.

My hope is that we'll have room in our new house for my piano. It takes up the space of two dressers and is as deep as a refrigerator but I want to start playing again. This new house doesn't exist for us yet, but it will someday and I plan on taking more lessons. I'd like to sit down on my piano bench with some new sheet music. I'll arrange the pages just so, and try a few measures with my right hand. Then I'll play a few with my left. Once I feel I understand a bit, I'll try both hands together.

I learned to carefully keep my palms curved, knuckles up (for good form), and to keep my back straight. Once I'm ready, I'll let my fingers dance.

all of this inspired by MCS's song on Radio Paradise

Matthew C Shuman - Chasing the Wind

fit

My recent investment of time, energy, and attention is CrossFit. You may have heard about it from someone oddly excited about it. Maybe you've never heard about it, but the words Cross and Fit seem familiar. No worries, I'll fill you in.

CrossFit is "constantly varied, functional movement performed at high intensity.... CrossFit contends that a person is as fit as they are proficient in each of ten general skills: cardiovascular/respiratory endurance, stamina, strength, flexibility, power, speed, agility, balance, coordination and accuracy." I got that from wikipedia.

What is CrossFit to me? 3 times a week of fun, intense, upbeat workout followed by a feeling of total exhaustion yet at the same time super charged and pretty darn proud of myself.

I'm not in terrible shape, but I haven't felt really great/svelte/lithe/fit in a while and this feels pretty fantastic. I'm not even there yet, I just feel like I'm on my way.

There's nothing like having a friend who's been doing CrossFit for six months with fabulous results to inspire you to give it a try. Last night I did 120 full sit ups even tapping the floor in front of my feet after each one. Sadly this wore the skin off my tail bone but I didn't notice until showering was painful. Oddly enough, it just made me feel tough and inspired.

I'm learning pull ups and all sorts of funny-sounding moves like Burpees, Inch Worms, and Clean Press something-or-others. I'm only three weeks in, but I can tell I'm gonna like it.

CrossFit girls are...

tracks

Some days you feel kinda like a tiger with very sharp claws. Other days you may be a little slow and awkward, and wish you'd just held your tongue.

I'm just saying.

Last night I watched part of a documentary about HIV and AIDS in Zambia, Africa. It was heartbreaking. So many children and wives, mothers and husbands, grandmothers, babies... Lost.

If you've ever seen someone frail and thin from disease, their bones delicate within the casing of their skin and wondered how they could still be alive.... That's what it is. If you've ever wondered what advances in medicine can do for the world, and what sex education can do for people.... It can do a lot. It can save babies.

I'm a fairly well-read person who likes to keep somewhat up to date on the affairs of the world but I have to admit that I feel totally and completely unable to comprehend the scope of savagery that is the effect of the HIV and AIDS viruses. There are millions of people affected, and thousands of people dying every day.

I'm not sure what I can do about it, but if nothing else I can recommend watching The Lazarus Affect. Although this short documentary is completely focused on how to keep these viruses from killing people (through the administering of medications), I'd like to mention that there is a lot of work being done to help keep people from being infected in the first place. Knowledge is power. Education is key.

And that is all for this week's episode of Friday Thoughts! Enjoy your weekend, relax, and change the world.

Zambia map courtesy of nationsonline.org (I have not checked out this website)

Zambian woman courtesy of OffTheBeatenTrack

Zambia Dancer courtesy of TheStateDepartment

sleepy time

I have a bit of a cold. It's just enough to make me feel sleepy and a little squinty-eyed, but not enough to keep me home in bed. It is, however, enough to make me dream of being home in bed and wondering how this day can drag so!

On that note, I'd like to curl up in this bed. It looks soft and quiet and warm, and I can almost feel the curtains being drawn and twilight tucking me in. I love this whole room, but I am particularly happy with the walls. I love the texture, the color, and how the shadows make the corner look cozy.

I am curious about the little bedside curio table (who needs a clock when a collection of skulls will do?). I love the contrast of rustic dark wood against a soft, pale wall.

Okay, in I go. It's too tempting.

Sorry, I've lost the photo credit.

at last

It's Friday!

I don't have much to say after a very exhausting five days, but I wanted to mention how tasty my enchiladas were on Tuesday. I shared them with an office buddy for Valentine's Day. I also shared a few of the chocolate truffles I made. I now know how to roll funny-looking little ganache morsels and dip and twist them to create fantastically delicious yet not-stunning truffle bites.

Now back to these enchiladas. I believe I may have mentioned before how at one point some years ago I realized that rolling enchiladas (although creative and pretty-looking) was basically a wild waste of time. Thus began my Enchilada Casserole years. Delicious, not as time consuming, and did I mention delicious?

You may be surprised that I am willing to share my recipe, but I'm pretty sure they're important enough to share. Also, I've never been one to think mine better than the original chef's so I feel that makes intellectual property pretty special and utterly sharable.

Layer upon layer, until you come out just right:

Corn tortillas

A round casserole dish that the tortillas almost fill

Rosarita vegetarian refried beans (you can add your own non-canned meat at will)

1/4 teaspoon ground cumin (add to beans, stir until hot)

1/4 teaspoon chile powder (add to beans and cumin)

A sprinkling of garlic powder if needed (I don't use it anymore)

Sharp cheddar cheese, grated

Monterey jack cheese, grated (if desired/optional)

Mild diced green chiles (one small 3oz can)

Mild/medium/hot green OR red enchilada sauce (your choice of brand, but I like Hatch)

The following are optional additions:

Black olives, chopped

Cilantro, washed and chopped

Chicken breast chopped small, sauteed in tamari, ginger powder, garlic powder, thyme

Corn (add ancho chile powder for some added flavor)

Rice (add sauteed onions, pepper, chile powder, garlic powder for flavor)

Pre-heat the oven to 350F (expect 45 minutes to bake)

Add a thin layer of sauce to bottom of casserole dish

Add one tortilla

Add 1/4" layer of beans

Add sprinkling of cheese (not much needed)

Add chicken/olives/cilantro

Top with a few spoonfuls of sauce (not enough to be really wet)

Repeat until pan is nearing full.*

Top layer: cheese, sauce, olives (pretty) finish with more sauce

*Make eating your enchilada casserole more interesting by varying the amount in between each layer. I've noticed adding chicken to one but beans to another keeps the texture interesting.

Bake for 45 minutes at 350F. Your enchilada casserole is finished when the cheese is bubbly on top and sauce is bubbling.

Let sit for five minutes (if you can) and add small scoop of sour cream or plain yogurt.

This photo is from Monday night. I accidentally used Hot sauce, which made it more interesting but not in a super good way.