She's got me wrapped around her fingerrrrrr

I've been around a lot of kids in my life: cousins, the ones in church nurseries, kids I babysit and nanny for. And I've loved all (ok, nearly all) of them. But nothing prepared me for my Lila. I knew right away, when I held her for the first time 5 minutes after she was born, that this kid was different. And since I just got to spend an entire week with her at Christmas, I realized a few things: one, no one likes a whiner and whiney-ness bugs the crap out of me. But when Lilian fusses, I find myself trying to figure out what she's trying to tell us, what she needs or wants. Even if she can't have it, I'd still like to know. Plus, she's still young enough that fussy = need so it's not like she's whining to be a brat (Well, maybe. Maybe she is a brat. But I'd still think it's cute).

Secondly, when I'm babysitting and the kids cry at bedtime, I walk away knowing they will calm down eventually and fall asleep. I know they are all right, that they will be fine. But when I put Lila down and see that lip quiver and those eyes get wide, it's all I can do to make it out the door. I listen hard and almost hold my breath, ready to call in the cavalry and rush to the crib to rescue her if she cries too long. I know she will quiet down and be in slumberland within two minutes - she always does and always is. But the cavalry and I are waiting, ponies ready and pistols drawn, should we be needed. Usually, though, we just back away quietly, glad that the horses' hooves didn't distract her in the 12 seconds it took her to fall asleep.

So yes, all kids are awesome and special. But my Lilabug is really something. She can "ba ba ba" and "da da da" with the best of them, and her laughter is the most wonderful sound. She can take 3 steps, although I'm sure it will be any day when 3 turns into 5 turns into 12 turns into oh-my-gawd she's walking for real. And then she'll talk for real, real words and real sentences. And then she'll start school and then there will be boys (or girls, or both, or whoever she wants). I tell her now that she should only ever be whoever she is right now on the inside because that is perfectly and wonderfully wonderful. That there is no way she has any original sin; she is pure blessing. And if anyone tells her otherwise, she should tell her Nnenna and I'll kick them in the shins.

Just the haps

A picture is worth 1000 words. Here's 8000 words of some recent haps (with rhyming captions. You're welcome):

Herman Cain is kinda gee

Colby snugged behind my knee

Bingley's on my desk at work

I did this tree myself, you jerk 

A peep with whom I spend my day

She made those cupcakes on my tray 

At first, the cabinet looked like this

But then I organized it
(this is also when I decided my next apt will be a studio)

Ok, so it almost all rhymed...

Sigh no more, no more.

I hate the term "hubby."

Hubby. Is that short for Hubble,

the telescope?

There. Got it out. I've been holding that one in for a long time. Facebook post after Facebook post about "my hubby" makes me puke - I envision a little squealing five-year old dragging a teddy bear around the house. But seriously, where did that term come from? Why do people use it? If you're really shortening husband, shouldn't it be "husby?" I really am all for nicknames. I have a couple myself. I use them frequently. They are endearing and cute. But "hubby?" Really? Put it in a circle and draw a line through it.

I feel like I've started this entry off on the wrong foot. I set out to write about one view of what it's like to be 27 and unmarried in a world of "I got married at 22" (seriously. Pretty much all my friends got married at that age, including my sister). And then I saw the word hubby and puked up some shoelaces (ok, I didn't really puke up shoelaces. That would mean I would have eaten shoelaces, which I have not). Let's start again...

The sad, single, late-twenties gal is an overplayed stereotype in ABC Family movies. I think those movies suck, as do most rom-coms that have a slightly nerdy, but really smart, witty brunette getting the guy instead of some ditzy blonde. Real life isn't like that, and I think sappy movies are, well, shit. I don't do sap. I don't see myself as that girl, so I'm not sure who I'm supposed to identify with. Let's try portraying how things really are. Real life as an unmarried person can really suck sometimes in ways ABC Family doesn't write into their story lines. If they did, it would include some of the following:

The TV viewer would see that help is scarce. There is no backup. If I forget to pick up milk on the way home, guess who gets to go back out and get the milk? (Hint: it's not my hubby). If there are three things that need to get done, there is no divvying up the tasks. One person always does the laundry, folds the laundry, puts the laundry away. And cooks, cleans, makes and keeps a budget, takes care of the car maintenance...all those mundane tasks. If you're tired or depressed or worn out, guess what? That shit still has to get done and you're the one to do it. (The angry part in me now wants to flick off anyone who has someone with whom to share those responsibilities, and yell something along the lines of "do it yourself for a while and see how you like it!" Especially to those who take it for granted. If I hear one more, "I'll wait till so-and-so gets home and he can do it" I'm going to throw my shoes at them.) Remember that some people don't have that luxury and be grateful. (And try doing it your-damn-self.)

Furthermore, there is no emotional backup. There is no sharing of anxieties, no sharing of the burden. In the same koi pond, there is no emotional sharing of the joys either. I do have wonderful friends who are close to my heart and with whom I share. But when it comes down to brass tacks (or tax), it's hard. It really is, especially the older I get and the more there is to deal with.

And then there are the little things: "Hi honey, how was your day?" and hug, hug, kiss, kiss. Talking in bed before you fall asleep. Gosh, just having another warm body in bed. I've never liked to sleep alone. When my sister decided she was old enough to have her own room, I would get up in the middle of the night and get in bed with her (our parents put us back in the same room shortly after I started that. Booyah!). Snuggling on a couch. Having little traditions, things that are "yours." Having someone to go home to, to eat dinner with. Having someone to share things with on a level deeper than your roommate.

Plus, with marriage being the only privileged relationship in society, there is a certain second class status that gets assigned to anyone over 23 who isn't married. Ok, you might get away with being 24, but please be married by 25. Otherwise we don't know what to do with you and your legitimacy as a human will be in question. My parents thought it was totally fine for me at the age of 25 to sleep on a sofa in the middle of the Thanksgiving gathering. I had to cry and pitch a little fit in order to get a room, and even then I shared with my sister and brother-in-law. Restaurant and movie deals are for two, not one or three. And just try getting your married girl friends to do those things with you instead of their husbies. Second.

I'm not saying marriage is all sugar cookies and egg nog. I've seen it at amazing and at really sucky. I'm not even saying that marriage doesn't need or deserve special attention and care. It does. I know how hard relationships are, and I know how much harder intimate relationships are. I also realize there are upsides to my current relationship status. I am able to spend my money how I want. I get to spend the holidays with my family or whoever I choose. I have the final say in all decisions and it's easier to compromise with myself than with someone else. I'm just saying... I'm just saying don't take having a life partner for granted. Don't underestimate the miracle that is someone loving you and wanting, committing, to do life with you. Enjoy it if you have it. And be aware of how not awesome "we" speech can be to an "I."

La la la linoleum.

The decision to go to McAfee was a relatively easy one. I checked out two other schools, visited one, and at each step came to the same conclusion: I just felt at home in Atlanta. I wasn't sure what that meant exactly, except I knew I felt like I'd already been there, already knew the people, and could take my shoes off and cartwheel in the hallways (which I did. Often). During those three years Atlanta and McAfee continued to burrow in my heart as the most homey place I'd ever called home.

Home should feel this way

And then I graduated, people moved, and everything changed. I no longer felt at home - anywhere.

I had never really reflected on just what the concept of home meant to me - how much it meant to me or how deeply I seek and try to create it wherever I am - until coming to and graduating from seminary. Home for me means emotional and physical safety, a place where you can be totally yourself, whatever or whoever that is at any particular moment. Where that is affirmed and loved. A place where burdens and joys are shared. Where things are...lived in. Whether or not that's what I experienced growing up, that's home for me. It's what I want my home to be, wherever I am.

The first tree I've
bought myself

Now I'm having to rebuild and create a new home - in physical terms, as well as emotionally. It's been nearly four months since I moved into my new apartment and my new job. It still isn't completely home, but I think things are getting okay-er. The physical part is basically together - things are hung on walls and I have a place for most everything (and most everything is in its place). I like the Christmas tree I picked out and decorated, and I like sitting on the couch with the Christmas lights on while I read Harry Potter. I'm settling in with my roommate, who is a sweet and kind (if not a little absent-minded) gem. I'm getting to know the people at work, enough to joke around with them and commiserate about the more challenging patients. The emotional parts are coming along, too, albeit a little more slowly. I'm learning to be my own safe foundation and to care for that as I care for my tangible home (which, considering the mound of dishes in the sink, is still a work in progress).

Here comes the...ah, fuck it.

With engagement season in full swing (have you checked your Facebook newsfeed lately?), it's time for a much needed reflection:

Oh my gawd, if you aren't getting married (and oh please, even if you are), stop planning your wedding on Pinterest! You do realize you're part of a trend, right? Sun burst engagement photos with you and yours holding hands against a brick wall? (Oh, sorry, are you sitting on antique-ish steps, making a heart shape with your hands, or looking up at him as he looks away? You're right. Totally original). Mason jars holding flowers, candles, breath mints...? Throwing up a little in my mouth every time I see a new pin in this genre?

I realize you are oh-my-gawd so excited about this oh-my-gawd so special time in your life, but please. All the rest of us really want to see is the ring, people! Put up a pic of the happy couple, flash a smile, and then show us a close up of that little round symbol of never-ending (you'll probably hear something similar - but way less cynical - in your ceremony). That's what we're going to judge you on, anyways. Quit littering Facebook. I will block your posts if you keep this up. Upon further reflection, I'm going to go do that to a couple people right now...

Back. I think I mentioned in an earlier post that I'm way funnier when I'm pissy (I may have said bitter, but whatevs. Same diff). Do I wish I was planning a wedding right now? Not really. One day, yes, but not with this current go-round of every-wedding-looks-the-same. Do I wish you weren't simply because oh-my-gawd you're so annoying about it? Yes. Most definitely.

I guess it's just that nowadays, with all this digital age, Internet shit, I can no longer avoid that which I don't wish to see, and people have the opportunity to publicize every thought that pops into their heads. Yes, I could not get on Facebook or Pinterest. I could just look past it, or block the users whose lame-o posts I don't want to see. But let's be honest, I love FB and Pinterest. They're fun. And sure, you have the same rights as I do as to posting on them. But please, for the love of all things brown and pink (or gray and yellow...I think that's the current color combo fad phase), realize you are being fucking annoying (feel free to embrace it, though. I'm all about embracing it). Think about something else for five minutes and post about that once in a while.

P.S. If you are engaged and you are not being ridic annoying about it, thank you. I'm really happy for you and I hope this time is sweetly special.

I really miss TV

My dear, sweet, kind, compassionate roommate didn't want to get cable. I did. The compromise was to get basic cable - like, really basic. At first I was okay with it. Networks have great shows, right? But then college football season started, followed by the NFL (i.e. the Packers). Oh Game Day, how I miss thee. And then I missed too many Daily Shows, Colbert Reports, Sister Wives (though OnDemand helps with that one), the weather channel, and Harry Potter marathons on ABC Family. Speaking of ABC Family, I miss the countdowns. What am I going to do without the 25 Days of Christmas??

She's crafty, and she's just my type

Over Thanksgiving, Jill and I actually made stuff from Pinterest. I know. Crazy.

Prepping for tutus

Lila and Tegs will love them!

Making jewelry hang-y things

 Tutus!!

Basically we're Martha Stewart

Stuffing for the win

 

Yay! Home again, home again, jiggity jog.

I understand that Thanksgiving is basically an excuse for carnivores to get together and celebrate meat. Even the vegetables are made with meat - green beans with bacon, asparagus wrapped in bacon - which, when you write it down, seems like bacon is challenging turkey as the main holiday meat source...Anyhow, as a vegetarian, sometimes the only thing I can eat is stuffing - that, and rolls and mashed potatoes (so basically carbs. I'm not really complaining). This year I spent TG with Jill and Drew, and thankfully when we listed our favorite part of the Thanksgiving meal, stuffing was at the top of each of our lists. And it was awesome. This was the first Thanksgiving I did any of the prepping, cooking, or baking - and by that I mean I have never done any of it except maybe make my own vegetarian stuffing. This year it was a group effort with Jill and I having a two-day prepping, cooking, and baking affair and Drew tackling the turkey. Fun and fun. And yummy.

The menu

Yeah, we made bread. From scratch.

Homemade rolls.

Making the pumpkin chiffon pie

Turkey!

(I actually ate a bite. It was good. But I'm still a vegetarian)

Carving it up

The pies! Lemon icebox and pumpkin chiffon.

The food, all made by hand :) 

The table's set and ready for eating!

So good

I have been very thankful this Thanksgiving, thankful for this Thanksgiving. It has been one very sweet time.

These days, a little bit longer than the last

So a little over a month ago, I found myself back in Atlanta. I was finally done with the suitcase I'd been living out of for almost two months. It was bittersweet; while I was glad to have more clothing options and to have my electric toothbrush back, it meant my travels were over. I'd kind of grown used to that little blue roll-y thing.

Some things are the same: I still babysit the cutest two-year old twin girls (those are their blocks I borrowed during a particularly rousing game of stack-and-knock-over). I have my bed again (that I love), my pillows, and my blankets. I love to snug in my blankets with my perfect pillows. And I went to Body Pump again yesterday for the first time in months. Today my hamstrings are asking me why I hate them.

I also still haven't decided how I feel about church yet. I know that post-seminary everything is wonky, but this is more like, the theology I was raised with - that never really felt right - definitely doesn't feel right and I'm trying to find a community that fits. I'm reading a book called Christ of the Celts (recommended by my bff Jill) and basically every sentence makes me say, yes, that makes sense! It's hard figuring out your theology, or accepting that the one you were raised with isn't the only one - the only valid one, or the one that is spoken from your seat in the theatre (that spelling just seems more posh, don't you think?). It's even harder finding a place to express it.

There are also many many many new things. My job, for instance, which is teaching me exactly what I do and do not want in a job or in my vocation. My roommate, who is incredibly wonderful and who I am glad to see when I get back at night. My apartment, though in the same complex as before, is in a different section and I pretend it's all new. I've put new pictures in old frames (see right), and have updated my style (I seriously had the same bathmat since undergrad). And, speaking of the bath, for the first time since the few months between when my sister went to college and I went to college, I have my own bathroom. I actually like sharing a bathroom, but redecorating with just my stuff (and having it always be clean and neat) has been nice.

And now for your local LilaBean update: she is almost 8 months old, crawling and pulling up. She made it up the stairs the other day (under full supervision) on her own. She talks and talks, and even though it sounds like narwhal babble to me, I'm sure it's very technically astute. She loves the ocean and the sand, and is not afraid to crawl right into the surf. Her legs and arms are baby-pudge perfect (she doesn't have wrists or ankles, just rolls and rolls). Basically, she's amazing.

I like the smell of blueberry bagels

So I bought some so I could eat them. That's true, but the real reason for this random silly something is that when I opened our (paltry) pantry this evening to put away some more groceries (yes, two trips to Kroger today), I smelled them and it reminded me of something silly: when I was in college - I think my last year, maybe even last semester - I spent the night at a friend's house after some random event and it was late and we were hungry. The whole reason I spent the night was that it was really cold and she had a fireplace in her house (random for college kid housing) and we thought it would be awesome to camp in the living room with a fire. So we go to the kitchen and root around and decide on turkey sandwiches, but the only carbohydrates with which to sandwich the sandwiches were...drumroll...blueberry bagels. We toasted that shizz right up anyway and ate turkey sandwiches on blueberry. I don't remember hating it, exactly, but I think we both agreed that turkey and cheese is better on plain, well, anything.

Mile High Country Club

I love planes. And flying. And traveling. But if you've flown enough (or even just once. Or even just met another human being), you know that people are weird as weird sometimes. I often wonder if airports bring out the extreme in people - maybe they are dressing up for the special privilege of sitting in a metal tube with 200 strangers for 5 hours, 36000 feet above the earth? - or if humanity really is just that strange. Once I sat next to a woman who wrapped her arm (elbow to finger tips) with an ace bandage, then with gauze, then another ace bandage, and finally with masking tape. Her perfectly healthy looking arm. (And yes, I got a picture.) Or, there is that one time I flew 11 hours from Honolulu to Atlanta and sat next to an intoxicated, overweight, incredibly rude middle-aged man whose left arm kept falling onto my right leg and who sprayed me with his yogurt cup when he attempted to open it. I cried for half the flight. There always seem to be incessant talkers who take the challenge to talk to you through your ear buds, guys who hit on you despite you closing your eyes and turning the other way, people who apparently are always angry, and people who need better oral hygiene. I usually hope I get seated next to disinterested sleepers!

And then, magically, you find 36E and sit down only to discover an amazing seat mate who makes the whole cramped experience worth it. On my way to Spain, I sat next to Inez from Catalonia who was currently living in Minnesota and studying to be a veterinarian. She taught me some common Spanish phrases (and reminded me how to say spoon), told me about the different parts of the country, and gave me her email and phone number in case I needed a friend while I was there, even though I would be on the opposite side of the country. Most recently, I sat next to a girl about my age who lived near my hometown and was traveling to Seattle for business. We talked a little on the flight and then the entire way from the gate to baggage claim. She told me about her job and showed me pictures of her year-old twin girls, and I told her about the twin girls I babysit. It was quite pleasant. When we realized we were heading back the same day, we looked to see if we had the same flight (we didn't. Boo). I hope her return flight seat mates realize how luck they are to get her and not the drunk yogurt guy :)

If you can't be with the one you love...

...love the one you're with. My two favorite little snuggers, Huck and Emmy, live 3000 miles away now. Naps have been quite pitiful since they've been gone, and my lap is empty more often than I care for it to be. Lately, though, I have had the surprising joy of snugging with Colby, an English cocker spaniel. So while I'm missing those two little heat blankets, Colby has been trying to help ease the transition. He is really cute. And really cuddly!

Huckers and Emmylou

One of their favorite hobbies - and greatest skills

Colby

Being sweet :)

Keeping me company (and warm!)

Yeah? The maple kind?

I promise I don't think about food this much, but I had some really awesome Mexican last week and I need the world to know. Well, I had two really awesome Mexicans, actually. One was a cheap walk-in place called Rancho Bravo. It's literally on the corner across from the apartment complex and it's so tiny they don't have a website. But they all speak Spanish and just a little English, so it's pretty legit. I heard about it from Shiloh, the gal who cut my hair (it touched my back when it was in the highest ponytail I could muster = not my fav). Shiloh said RB looked "like a rundown KFC" but had the best burritos. She was right! (Full disclosure: I had a quesadilla. Still good). I've passed the place 1000 times and wondered what it was (there's also no sign), and thought it looked sketch. Sketchy? Si. But really good.

The second awesome Mexican was a swankier Seattle joint a few blocks over called Barrio. I love chips and salsa (what generic white American doesn't?) and theirs was ridic good. I also love tequila, but am not a fan at all of margarita mix; i.e. I never get a marg when I'm at a restaurant because they're usually made with that disgusting crap. Not at Barrio, though! It was fresh and limey and had just enough tequila to make everything way more fun (which, let's be honest, I'm getting older and it takes way less to do that these days). The actual restaurant was cool, too, though. It's street side was all open to the sidewalk and it had whole walls that were all cut out for candles. Que chulo.

Food. Couldn't stop thinking about it.

I'm not a food snob or connoisseur, and I'm not really picky (except for the no meat thing), so there's no way I'm going to write a food blog. But I do eat, and I have had some fun food stuffs lately.

"I didn't know your mom had a pizza place." Which meant we had to eat there. It's a couple blocks west (I wanted to say south, but that's only because it's downhill). The whole walking everywhere thing is kinda cool.

Wild Mountain Cafe was THE best.

Jill and I took her wedding dress to get it cleaned and preserved at this place that specializes in cleaning and preserving wedding dresses (a fairly symmetrical sentence, thank you). I was hungry as soon as we got in the car (of course), so when we got to the cleaners, Jill asked about a local place to eat a good lunch. The Ted Bev-alike suggested the Wild Mountain Cafe...best suggestion ever. Best veggie burger I've ever eaten. Best chips and salsa. Yum. Yum. Yum.

Plus a lot of this. We bought it because the bottle was cute. So far, a good method of choosing!

If only I could find a diet cherry coke like you get from Sonic or Steak & Shake. Or Chick Fil A french fries. Then it'd be perf-tastic.

Seattle is as Seattle does

First morning waking up in Seattle! Yesterday was arrival, 2 trips to QFC

(think Kroger and Whole Food’s love child), 1 trip to Walgreens (Pledge wipes and Clorox bathroom cleaner), 1 eat at Panera (they didn’t have creamy tomato! I’m hoping it was a fluke. But they do have compost and recycle options), and the first 30 minutes of Pineapple Express. Oh, and 1000 trips up and down the elevator (you have to use your fob. Yeah, a fob).

There’s a pretty-ish sort of wilderness across the street – Cal Anderson Park – and people actually use it!!

That was one of the first realizations that we weren’t in Kansas (which, when I think about it that way, actually makes me happy. See last post about those mid states). People were sitting, reading, walking, laying out, chillin’ by the fountain…who does that?! Apparently, people in Seattle. Or maybe it’s bigger than that and all people who live in big cities use their parks!

Unpacking took a while (and by unpacking I mean we unpacked a handful of kitchen boxes so we could find the brownie pan. And then later we tried to find the box with the bottle opener, but Drew figured out that some thing in the tool box would do the trick so we gave up the search). The TV is now up and I’m sitting the wingback, so there’s that.

Jill and I are going to tackle more unpacking and a trip to Target (somewhere out there), while Drew goes to SU to do homework. It’s weird. I should make a list.

Day 3: Shittiest Day of the Country

I thought people were exaggerating when they talked about the extensive cornfields of the middle US states. They weren’t. The drive from Kansas City, MO through Kansas, Missouri, Iowa, Nebraska, and South Dakota showed that I was quite wrong and those others were quite right.

It is probably actually very beautiful land (though the pic at left is about par for the day). It just happened to fall on the longest driving day of the trip (about 13 hours in the car, Kansas City, MO to Rapid City, SD). Stress and tension were high, and the mile upon mile upon mile of straight highway, I-29 detours, and corn was...I can’t think of anything polite to say. Arriving at the Holiday Inn in Rapid City at 9pm was the best part of the day.

Today was Day 4, Rapid City to Gardiner, MT, and it was loads better! A morning jog, Mount Rushmore, a shorter drive through scenery that changed and roads that did more than stretch out straight…ahhhhh sweet bliss.

Arriving at Jean and Hal’s (and getting their subsequent hugs) was wonderful. As was eating food not packaged in foil or consumed with a plastic fork. I’m sleeping in Benny’s room, surrounded by sports and aviation.

How do I feel? Ready to do something besides drive. Ready to have a routine. Ready ready ready ready ready to run.