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.