Christmas treats...

Everybody knows that once Thanksgiving is over, it's just a marathon of shopping, wrapping, decorating and partying until Christmas. Here it is only December 6 and my calendar for the month is already pretty full... Between trying to stay in contact with friends, finishing my Christmas shopping, wrapping presents when the husband isn't home, coordinating holiday parties with friends and family and... oh yeah...working...it's a miracle that my head is still on straight. And we don't even have kids yet. Oh the joys that await us in the future.

But, as I've mentioned in many a blog previously, one of my favorite things about life in general is cooking...and then enjoying the fruits of my labor. One of the events my husband's family does every year is a cookie swap at his aunt's house in New Hampshire. I remember as a kid my mother used to do cookie swaps with her friends before the holidays, and for anyone who hasn't done one before, you really should. It's a great way to get a variety of cookies and other sweet treats without spending hours upon hours baking. Depending on how far in advance the swap is scheduled in relation to Christmas, you can just freeze the cookies you receive until you need them and then you can impress friends, family and coworkers with these amazing arrays of holiday delights. The last two years, I've stuck to two Christmas cookie staples - the peanut blossom (those peanut butter cookies with Hershey kisses in the middle - I mean, who doesn't like those) and these cream cheese kiss cookies my mother always makes during the holidays and just happen to be my oldest brother's favorites. The cookie batter is molded around a Hershey kiss, baked and then the cookie is coated in powdered sugar. It's like a little snowball with a delightful surprise in the middle.

However, this year, I'm inspired to bring something different to the table...literally. In the past month or so, I've become a more avid Pinterest-er and have come across some pretty fabulous sounding recipes. One of the most recent ones I found immediately made it to my Christmas cookie swap list and they look SO easy and yet so adorable: Brownie Christmas trees. Adorable right? And so affordable. All you need is brownie mix, icing and candy canes. I'm in love.

The other recipe I plan on making, and I'm compromising between the ease of the brownie trees with a more arduous recipe, is buckeye balls. They're a family tradition for my family and a total crowd pleaser. For anyone who doesn't know what buckeye balls are, they're peanut butter and powdered sugar rolled into a ball and dipped in melted chocolate. Everyone likes peanut butter and chocolate. My brothers and I used to fight over these as kids. Nestled in festive little holiday-themed cups and they're suddenly the star of any Christmas cookie platter.

My mother and I are also partaking in yet another Christmas tradition of making almond sticks, otherwise known as Banket (baan-ket). The process takes two days because the filling and dough both have to be made the night before and then you actually assemble the pastry the next day. The recipe card is yellow with age, and shows its use through oil spots and the bleeding of my grandmother's scribbled handwriting, which is half the reason I make the pastry with my mom because I can barely decipher the instructions. It's one of my favorite traditions because I feel like it connects to my Dutch ancestors who made the same recipe years and years ago.

What are your favorite holiday traditions and how do they evolve as the years go on?

Thankfulness...

So with Thanksgiving literally tomorrow, I figured I'd follow suit and write a little blurb about what I'm thankful for. While I say 'little,' there is really so much to be thankful for that I'm not even sure I can remember it all.

While I was driving to work this morning, I couldn't help but reflect on the beauty of this world. Just seeing the sunshine creating a beautiful halo through the thin cloud covering was inspiring. All the different intricacies in nature are just overwhelming and I'm so thankful to not only live in a world that is so colorful, vibrant and lively, but I'm also thankful that I can see, hear, smell and touch it all.

I'm thankful for the people I have in my life. For the wonderful, loving husband I get to see every day, for my Mother who inspires me more every time I see her, for my brothers and the amazing women they've found to cherish for the rest of their lives and for my adorable nephew who teaches me to celebrate the littlest things with pure joy. I'm thankful for two grandparents who have been such role models for me and the way I've lived my life, who display such adoration and love for one another while never failing to share their faith in every facet of their lives. I'm thankful for cousins and aunts and uncles who I have had the opportunity to develop relationships with, and for dear friends who have seen me through thick and thin and who I can rely on for a good belly-aching laugh.

Despite the petty differences and political mumbo-jumbo that we endured for the past few years leading up to this month's presidential election, I am thankful to live in a country where we do enjoy the freedom to vote for our own leader, where we are free to live our own way and where we can live harmoniously with so many different types of people from all kinds of backgrounds. I'm eternally grateful to the men and women who gave the ultimate sacrifice for this country, from the very beginning of our country's history to today, granting us the freedom to practice the values we stand for.

I'm thankful for the little things that make life what it is - for appliances that make daily chores less tedious, for cars that can take us from point A to point B, for clothing, clean drinking water, medicine and education. For life's little surprises like cards in the mail, fresh flowers, a hug from a friend or a good joke.

Food is a pretty substantial part of my life, so it's hard not to be thankful for it. I love cooking, baking and playing around with ingredients, so I'm thankful to have so many different fruits, vegetables, meats, spices, etc to experiment with. I'm thankful my parents raised me to try anything once because had I not, I probably wouldn't have the educated palate that I do. I'm thankful for the indulgences in life like ice cream, chocolate, wine, cheesecake and candy.

And as hard as the past two years have been since my father passed away, I'm thankful for the good memories we have of him. I'm thankful for the parts of him that are reflected in me - not only in my physical appearance like my height, my long legs and my nose (there's no question I got the Knapper nose), but also in my sense of humor and my work ethic. I'm so thankful for the morals and values he and my mother together instilled in my brothers and I, and I'm thankful for the presence he continues to have in my life.

The life I have is so full of wonderful, amazing things. Every day, I am amazed by something new and every day, I learn something I didn't know yesterday...and for that I am thankful.

stats...

Well, let the poking and prodding begin...or continue, I guess. I found out last week I most likely have something that 20% of the American population deals with. Thankfully, that's a pretty high statistic which means that doctors know exactly how to treat it. However, despite how common a medical condition is, it doesn't make it any easier to know that I am now part of that statistic.

After donating what seemed like endless vials of blood last week - it was probably close to like 4 or 5, but when you're sitting there staring at anything but the needle in your arm and making awkward conversation with the person who handles hundreds of blood samples day in and day out, it can seem like a lot more, my husband and I have decided to seek a second opinion after an opportunity presented itself (Thanks, mom-in-law!).

I'm pretty sure I'll get the keep the rest of my blood, but more poking, prodding, questions and repeated answers are what I get to anticipate in the next couple weeks. I know, lucky me, right? The nightmares have already started and I'm sure as more appointments and potential procedures fill up my calendar, they'll only get worse. But hopefully, it's all a means to an end.

Ironically, after talking to some of my close friends in our little circle, it turns out the statistics are actually pretty dead on because out of the whole lot of us - 10 or so give or take depending on the day, occasion and venue, 3 of us now share a common bond. Just a little over 20 %.

Freaky, huh?

health...

No one really expects bad news. At least I don't. I try to be  pretty positive person; I feel like by my being positive, I'm helping others to be positive as well. It's all about your attitude about things, which coincidentally was what the sermon I was listening to this morning on my way to work was exactly about. My mother let me borrow a few sermons on cd by Joyce Meyer, who I mentioned a couple blogs ago. I quoted her on Facebook this morning because her words were especially poignant for me today. She said (repeatedly), "Your problem is not your problem; your attitude about your problem is your problem." And she's so right. How we react to the trials of life reflects how those trials will effect us.

Everyone has problems. Especially now as we see the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy, it's evident that some peoples' problems are far larger than others'. I can't imagine the heartache, fear and utter loss that some of the people in NYC and NJ are going through. I can't imagine waking up one day and realizing that everything I ever had is gone. It's these kinds of things that make me examine my own problems and really take a step back and see them for what they are.

All that said, it's still hard to face unexpected problems and bad news without some level of worry and trepidation. My husband and I are in new territory right now and despite knowing that it's not uncommon or untreatable, it's still scary. It's hard to know how to react when you know something is wrong but you have to wait to find out exactly what. But, in the grand scheme of things, it's a small roadblock. We are happy, mostly healthy and fortunate to share the life we do with the friends and family we have.

hearty...

Cooking just makes me happy. It's as simple as that. I'm sure I've said it before, but I love coming home with bags full of groceries and taking raw ingredients and combining them to make something so delicious and heart-warming that it makes me want to dance.


October is almost over, which means fall is already half over if you can believe it. It feels like just yesterday, the hubby and I were strolling down the charming streets of Portsmouth, New Hampshire on our anniversary weekend, but low and behold that was in fact over a month ago! With the arrival of fall, my (and probably a lot of other people as well) senses shift and suddenly I'm craving those hearty, nostalgic meals that stick to your bones and warm you from the inside out. The weather hasn't quite been cooperating, and I can't say that I'm complaining. We've had a pretty mild fall so far, all things considered. I think I can count on one hand the number of days that temperatures have dropped below 45 at night and on average, the temperatures during the days have been close to 60 give or take. Granted, we just endured a hurricane that was dubbed the largest storm in history for New England, but thank God Almighty it was rain and not ice and snow.

All that said, it was high time I made some soup. I really thought about it yesterday while I was relaxing at home and the wind and rain was pummeling the bay window, but my fear that the power would go out mid-cooking overcame my desire to make one of my favorite meals. So, it was only natural that my next opportunity, I was at the grocery store filling my basket with all kinds of goodies. (Despite the torrential rains that were flooding the streets - totally unexpected.)

So here we are. A year or two ago, I took my favorite soup of all time - butternut bisque - and gave it a little twist by adding sweet potato. With the help of some spices, herbs and a touch of sweetness mixed with stock and light cream, my new favorite soup was complete. Paired with the only natural thing to complete this kind of meal - a crusty grilled cheese sandwich, I was a happy girl (and I'm pretty sure my husband was a happy man.)

To soup... Enjoy the season's flavors while you can.

patience...

I have been given a new challenge... A challenge in patience, humility and trust. In the past few months, my faith has been restored as much as it has been tried. I posted a while ago that I've started getting that itch. You know what I mean. Since then, I feel like everyone else on the planet is expecting except for me. I've gone through feelings of self-pity to anger to frustration to fear and back to calm. Everyone's story is different, and that's part of what makes this world such a beautiful place. If we were all the same, life wouldn't be nearly as exciting.

Anyone who knows me knows I'm a bit of a control freak and a confessed plan-aholic. I love planning things. I love having something to look forward to and seeing all my ducks lined up in a row until that moment when it all comes together. I love knowing that I'm in control and I love instant gratification; my husband, more than anyone, knows that I'm not a patient person. I wanted to give him his anniversary gift three months early; when I can't get something to work the first time, I have to force myself not to walk away. So I really should have seen this coming. I am trying to come to peace with the fact that I'm really not in control - there is Someone who has far more insight into my life than I possibly could and it has been a real test in patience and trust to not only come to that conclusion, but to accept it every day.

There's a verse in the Bible that says "We are wonderfully and beautifully made," and I have to remind myself of that more than once a day sometimes. "If God cares so deeply about the birds of the air and the flowers on the ground, how much more does he care about us? (paraphrased)."  Every day, every trial we go through has a purpose to make us stronger. It doesn't make the trial any easier, but it makes the outcome that much sweeter.

My mother let me borrow some cd's by Joyce Meyer which I started listening to yesterday. As my mother, she has been the listening ear to much of my fears and frustrations, so it shouldn't have surprised me that the first disk I listened to is about trust and patience. After just one day of listening, I can see my thought processes shifting and my walls coming down...to a degree. As hard as it is to sit back and be patient, we make more of a mess of things when we try to take control of it ourselves. The words of a song we used to sing in Sunday school just came back to me as I'm writing this: "Have patience, have patience. Don't be in such a hurry. If you get impatient, you'll only start to worry. Remember, remember that God is patient too. Just think of all the times when others have to wait for you."

 If I want this this badly, I have to be willing to relinquish control and trust that everything happens in God's time... The fact that I do want this this badly is evidence that it will be granted... I just have to stop worrying about when.

Easier said than done, but each day is a new day.

kink...

Perhaps I'm dwelling too much on the seasons, but I can't help looking around and seeing the evidence of change everywhere. From the vibrant leaves on the trees, to the cooler temperatures, to swapping out my wardrobe from summer to winter clothes to my husband and I leaving our newlywed status behind and entering into our second year of marriage.

Change is not always easy, and especially for me, change beyond my control is the most difficult. I am and always have been a planner. I like to know exactly how things are going to go and do what I have to to execute those things as they appear on my 'to-do' list. It's a very hard concept to swallow, coming to the realization that in fact I am very much not in control and instead have to not only sit back and let things take their course, but do so patiently.

Recently, I was made aware of the fact that although I am one of the healthiest patients at my doctor's office - a status that I strive to maintain through regular exercise, healthy eating (except for those ocassional necessary trips to the vending machine for something sweet and chocolatey), and quality time spent outside in the fresh air - there is something not quite right with me. Thankfully it's not major - so far as we know - and it's 'fixable' to a degree, but it's definitely putting a kink in what I thought were very well-ironed out plans.

It's easy to let this news brew and fester and allow even more negative thoughts, concerns, fears, and worries multiply in the corners of my mind. It's hard to try to force myself to not think about the worst case scenario and wonder what the outcome would be. And although it seems like I'm most definitely not the only person on the planet dealing with this issue, it certainly feels like I am. I wonder if there was something I could've done months or years ago to prevent this or at least address it. I wonder why out of the billions of people on the planet, I'm stuck with this.

I'm hoping and praying that it'll make me stronger, but most of all I'm hoping and praying that I'll be better. Because fixing this means far, far more than it seems.

Our finally finished basement....

From the bottom of the stairs...

From the cabinets looking toward the back...

From the back looking at the cabinet...

The bathroom/laundry room...

A better view of the print we got for the wall...

Most importantly, the tv and sitting area...

What will likely become my favorite spot...

sauce...

I know all of you summer-loving beach bums are lamenting the end of summer, so you may want to just skip this post before you get even more depressed. I can't help the fact that I love fall. It's only September 4th, but it's been a rainy, chilly day - perfect for a light jacket and an excuse to enjoy hot tea all day long. I will admit I'm not a huge fan of the rain - I'd rather a sun-kissed day every day of the week, but today's dreary weather just seems to be contributing to the overall aura of autumn. With the approach of the season, I'm anticipating all the wonderful pieces of fall that I'll get to enjoy and one of them is cooking.

Cooking is my therapy. I couldn't tell you when I first fell in love with cooking, but ever since I can remember, my mother always made us a homemade meal that was nourishing for body and soul. I can close my eyes and just picture her standing in the kitchen, stirring a pot on the stove or whipping something up in her mixer on the counter as we kids rambunctiously ran through the house like kids will do. There's just something comforting and homey about a meal made from scratch because part of that 'scratch' is the love and passion from the cook themselves. When I'm having a stressful day or just an overall bad day, I love knowing that I can just take refuge in my kitchen with a handful of ingredients and produce something delicious that will put a smile on someone else's face.

Fall makes me think of cooking and baking more just because it's more comfortable to be in the kitchen during the cooler months. Having a gas stove radiates quite a bit of heat into the kitchen and the rest of our house, so we try our best not to use it excessively in the summer when the house is already an oven. With the arrival of cooler weather, I have the freedom to make my favorite recipes and concoct new ones like butternut bisque and creamy potato soup and spicy chili with cornbread and tasty casseroles and delicious bread, cakes, cookies and pies, all made with the countless flavors and ingredients that abound in this wonderful season.

This is all coming about now because my sister-in-law graciously brought over a heaping bag of garden-ripe tomatoes; they're vibrant red color and succulent smell of the outside is invigorating and after just one look at them all, I knew I was going to make some homemade tomato sauce...and I can't wait! Today is just the perfect day to do it, too, because of the perfectly fall chill in the air.

change...

Keeping with the theme of senses, this week has brought with it crisp mornings that are just a delight for running and cool evenings that make sleeping much more comfortable. More than person has mentioned the tangible change in the weather and while it could just be a cool snap, the pending onset of fall is definitely in the air.

There's a confusion of emotions that ebb and flow with this notion - sadness that the lazy, hot days of summer are coming to an end, yet the delicious, anticipated notes of autumn are almost here. There are parts of every season that I love, but I can't deny that fall gets the label as favorite. The colors of the leaves, the flavors that run rampant, decorating with pumpkins, gourds and sunflowers, and just the need to cozy up in a comfy sweater with a steaming cup of chai tea - there's just so much of fall that I love. Perhaps it's also because it is such a fleeting season...and obviously it leads into winter which, aside from the holidays, is my least favorite season.

For me, now, the fall brings with it even more emotions because it encompasses two of the most defining days of my life - my wedding day (our first anniversary is right around the corner and I can't wait) and the day my father died. These will both be days that I will never forget; days that forever changed me in the blink of an eye; days that harbor such distinctly different memories and thoughts.

But for now, I'm determined to enjoy the last vestiges of summer before they succumb to autumn's finesse.

sense...

The senses can be pretty amazing. Isn't it funny how you can smell something in the present and all of a sudden, you're transported back to another time, another memory, another place where that exact smell was first had? I would have to say the sense of smell is the strongest of the senses as far as the ability to take you to a completely different time and place. With our eyes, it's so hard to remember how things might have been when you're looking at them in the moment. Like how I know that growing up, the backyard of my childhood home was completely different; there was a back porch, a patio and no screened-in deck...but it's so difficult to imagine that because of what I see there now.

However, close your eyes and breathe deeply the scent of something you may have always known or just encountered once in a blue moon and the memories of those experiences linked to that scent will come flooding back. In some ways, I love that. There are so many things that I obviously can't relive, but having the memory attached to something fragrant and delicious is such a treasure. Like how the smell of apple fritters always takes me back to our vacations at the cottage on Silver Lake in Michigan; freshly baked apple pie puts me right in my mother's kitchen; the crisp scent of pine brings back memories of Christmases old and new; sawdust, oil fumes and cigarette smoke make me recall sitting in my father's shed watching him work, and the dank smell of an old basement reminds me of my great-grandparents' house. Just this morning, I was making banana bread, and the smell wafting from the oven made me think of my grandmother's kitchen.

And yet there are those odors that bring with them sadness and perhaps fear. The smell of carnations has a way of reminding me of the various funerals I've attended throughout my lifetime and the loss of dearly loved ones.

It's so easy to take our senses for granted and to flippantly push those memories away. But it's so important to cherish them as long as we're able because they truly are the link between our past and our future.

DIY...

It's a good feeling knowing when you make a good team. For the past 8 months, my husband and I have been tirelessly working on refinishing our basement, and the fact that we can do it together with limited bickering has definitely made the process that much more enjoyable.

When my husband bought the house (prior to us dating), the previous owners had done a sloppy effort of 'finishing' the basement with that nasty wood paneling that throws back to the 1980's. With the help of some good friends and a few beers, that was torn down over a weekend. The week after this past Christmas, the hubs took a whole week off and his dad (who has literally been a handyman Godsend) put in the new studs and framework for what would become the 'Dan-cave' as we decided to name it.

From step to step, through sheetrocking, plastering, choosing paint and trim colors and carpet, we kept making progress and with each step, the basement took on even more resemblance of a usable space.

This past weekend was probably one of the most triumphant, since we made our first really big purchase together - our sectional - and also installed the last bit of baseboard in addition to finishing up the installation of the cabinets and mini fridge. Thankfully, we'd done some research ahead of time in regards to the sectional - I think we'd both learned our lesson in the past that trying to shop together without prior discussions of what we're both thinking usually ends in disaster and more than likely tears. With the Massachusetts tax free weekend as the fire under our butts, we bit the bullet and financed a pretty fabulous sectional that will fill up the basement space perfectly and offer plenty of seating during family parties, get-togethers, and most importantly - football games.

(don't be too impressed - this isn't our basement, just a sample picture of our soon-to-arrive sectional from the manufacturer's website)

But the point where it was most gratifying to know what a great team we are was at the end of the day yesterday, when we could stand back and look at this space that was literally concrete floors and walls 8 months ago and see a completely different space....and for the most part, we did it all together. We had put in the last of the baseboard, and I was walking around with a paintbrush and three open cans of paint making touch-ups on the walls, and for a moment, we both just stopped and looked around and smiled at each other. This was a huge accomplishment. And soon we'll be able to enjoy this space and share it with the ones we love.

So as difficult as some tasks can be, as frustrating as deciding on a paint color, installing ceiling tiles, measuring out baseboard, and everything else can be with a significant DIY project like this can be, it's so much fun to be able to look back and think 'we did this...together!'

And no one got strangled. ;)

summer...

There's something inexplicably invigorating about the smells of summer. Maybe it's just the nostalgia of it all - how certain smells just bring back memories of being a carefree kid and not worrying about anything except when the sunset was bringing the day to an end. Or maybe it's just the unfortunate brevity of summer that makes every scent, every scene, every moment seem that much sweeter.

The other day, I was going for a run after work. It was pushing 80 degrees, the sun was low in the sky, the streets were busy with people on their way home from their jobs. As I ran down side streets, along yards and gardens, I was struck by the wonderful smells that so define summertime. The sweetness of freshly cut grass, the delicious waft of savory smoke from the grill, the pungent smell of water from the sprinkler on hot pavement. These smells truly do define summer both now and in the past... They brought a punch of homesickness - not for home, but for that feeling of being carefree, relaxed, having no expectations of the day to come but only for the present.

Being an adult definitely changes the view with which we see summer. Now we rush through the week to get to the weekend and then we unintentionally pack the weekend with so many things we want to do that the weekend goes by doubly as fast and we are suddenly back to the doldrums of the work week again.

I like being able to spend the evenings relaxing with my husband, sitting on our back step, enjoying a beer together while he grills dinner, relishing the fleeting moments of summer that will soon be replaced with cooler days, changing leaves and other signs of autumn.

But for now, it is summer... and I love every scent of it.

rise...

Ever feel like you're know you're meant to do something different than what you're doing but you're just not sure what? I feel like I'm stuck in this rut and I'm trying to get out, but nothing is working. I'm ready for a change, albeit it frightening; I'm ready to feel like I'm valued, like everything I do is actually recognized and appreciated.

I had a test in patience and gratuity this week, and it wasn't easy to swallow. Despite what I think I deserve, sometimes the world just doesn't cut the pie fairly. My father's favorite saying was always "I didn't ask if it was fair." So true in so many ways. I had to pause and remind myself to be thankful for what I actually do have. I do have a loving husband who comes home to me every day, I do have a caring family that I know I can count on in the good times and the bad, I do have a paying job that allows me to get by in life, I do have my health. I have a lot that many probably don't, and for that I have to bite my tongue and simply be satisfied.

In the meantime, I can only do my best, go beyond what is expected of me, and live up to the work ethic I'm proud that my parents taught me.

grief...

Grief is one of those things that everyone deals with differently; it's part of our own personal make-up and sometimes it's harder to decode than a lot other emotions we experience with other people. I know for myself, I'm guilty of bottling it all up inside until it overwhelms me at the most inopportune times (most often when I'm at work). On more than one occasion, my husband will find me in our bedroom crying or realize in the middle of the night that my pillow is wet with tears. I think it stems from feeling like crying is a sense of weakness combined with my own vain knowledge of how horrid I look after a good cry - the puffy red eyes, runny nose and overall disheveled result doesn't really look good on anyone. I know for myself, though, that if I've reached that breaking point, I just want to be able to cry it out.

Being the comforter instead of the comfortee comes with its own challenges, though. In most cases, when it comes to grief, there's really nothing anyone else can say to take away the pain; it's something that can't be fixed and if it can, it's not by you. It's such an entirely uncomfortable place to be to know that you are completely incapable of doing anything to make this person's pain go away. Especially when you've never been in that place before and you can't pull from your own experience. It's at that point, that you'll literally do anything to bring a smile back to the face of the one you love.

I have been here and my instinct is to just be close - hug, rub their back, kiss their cheek, offer up a prayer. It's my hope that this somehow makes a difference.

58...

This past weekend, my family got together with the purpose of just spending some time together and remembering my father as June 30th would've been his 58th birthday. In anticipation of our get together, my grandfather kindly drew up a list of talking points we might consider while we were together, but in lieu of creating a complete sob scene in the middle of Millbury's LongHorn Steakhouse, we just said a few words and opted to simply enjoy our time as a family.

However, re-reading through my grandfather's list, I felt like it might be important to really think about some of the things he wrote and lay out who my father really was to me. The very first thing that comes to mind about my dad is his presence. He was 6'4", rough around the edges and intimidating to anyone meeting him for the first time, but under that calloused, leathery skin, he was a complete softy. He had a passion for life, a desire to laugh and a quiet love. I always think of his strength - both physical strength and strength of character. He made new friends wherever he went and he wanted to share his love for Christ with them through his desire to help in whatever way he could.

One particular scene that sticks out in my mind about his underlying softness was when he and my mother decided to get chickens; they purchased 6 chicks, and for a couple months the kitchen was filled with the sounds and smells of baby chicks. They quickly transformed from animals into pets and craved the attention we all gave them, often peeping if they couldn't see or hear any of us in the room. One night, my father was sitting at the kitchen table reading, as he often did, accompanied with the trusty bag of potato chips, and the chicks were being particularly loud. He moved his chair in front of their cage which was on top of a chest of drawers, and simply sat there, reading, occasionally consoling the chicks with a quiet conversation. I also remember the first time one of the chickens laid the very first egg. He went into the coop to see what all their cackling was about and emerged triumphant with a fragile, tiny white egg held high in his hand.

My father taught us a lot of things - not so much in specific lessons, but simply in the man that he was. He taught us how to work hard, how to earn the money we made, how to stand up for what we believed in and how to fight for what was right. He taught us the everyday things in life, but in so doing, he taught us how to be strong individuals. I remember going with him to work on weekends, learning how to hammer nails, sand down drywall and use power tools. He taught us how to laugh at the little things in life and to treasure what really mattered.  He in no uncertain terms was perfect, but showed us the difference between right and wrong and made sure we knew when we were the latter.

My father loved to smile and especially loved a good joke. He always loved that slapstick humor like The Three Stooges and the Monty Python movies, and I remember spending Saturday mornings with him watching the Mystery Science Theater spoofs and not being able to resist his contagious laughter. He loved Pinky and the Brain and Robin Hood: Men in Tights, Bill Cosby, and anything by Pixar.

It's hard to focus on one thing that I miss the most about my father... I miss him - everything about him. I think the thing I've missed the most especially lately is his voice and its many qualities; his no-nonsense tone, his pensive 'I know everything about everything' tone, his laughter and especially the way he used to lovingly call me Punkin'. I sometimes feel like I'm forgetting what it sounded like and it scares me. It makes me fear what else I may forget as time goes on.

I think about the last morning I saw him alive, how he was taking my air conditioner out of my bedroom window and I wish I'd said 'I love you' but didn't. I know he knows...but sometimes I just wish I'd said it one last time.

run...

Do you ever have those days where you want to do absolutely nothing? Why do you think that is? Perhaps it's the positively ideal weather that's heralding outside while we're stuck in the employment dungeon. Or maybe it's just the overwhelming to escape from the mundane everyday. It's probably horrible that I'm saying all this just two weeks after spending a seven-day vacation in the azure blue waters of Cancun, basking in the addicting rays of the equatorial sunshine. This is just one of those days where I've got no motivation to do absolutely anything beside run out the door, get in my car and drive. To where and to do what are totally unnecessary details.

honesty...

I feel like I might be an exception to the norm when I can say that I still not only talk to girls I've known since elementary school, but I actually have a meaningful relationship with them. This past Tuesday night, I was able to meet up with these 2 girls who I have so many shared memories with when one of them was up visiting her family from Florida. My other friend is very dear to me and was actually one of my bridesmaids in our wedding last year and we try to get together at least once a month. While the three of us don't all get together very often (distance being the most obvious obstacle), when we do it never amazes me how quickly we can just jump right back into conversation like we'd never missed a beat. From talking about our lives now, to reminiscing about all our years through elementary and high school and everything in between, it's so easy to remember why these women are such a special part of my life.

The passage of time is so noticeable, though, as our conversations inevitably evolve from the happy silly memories of childhood to life's milestones - good and bad - that unavoidably approach as we get older. Meeting that special someone, getting married, having children, changing jobs, buying homes, losing family members, witnessing the effects of age on our parents - they are all those events in life that help to shape us into the individuals we are.

One thing struck me, however, as this dinner date with friends approached and I had the courage to bring it up as we were getting ready to leave. It takes a true, loving friend to not only stand by you during your rougher times in life, but to be honest and up front when you least want to hear it. At a point in my life when I was in college and living on my own and indulging in the less-attractive aspects of college life including extended drinking binges and the stupid decisions that come with them, my friend had enough concern to pretty much tell me in no uncertain terms that I was being a "jerk" and that I needed to rethink what I was doing. Of course at the time, it wasn't something I could see for myself and didn't take to heart but five or six years later, I realize that I was being pretty foolish. And her words had stuck with me all this time and I was able to realize now that she was right. I had an overwhelming feeling that I needed to thank her for that and I surprised even myself when I could feel myself getting emotional as the words came out of my mouth. That kind of friendship and honesty doesn't come around very often and I feel so honored to have friends that care that much. It really is a blessing, and I hope we can continue to nurture our friendship as the years go on.

glee...

Mornings are sweeter
with you by my side.
I anticipate returning to you
on my evening ride.
Your kiss makes me
happy from head to toe
and I love being with you
wherever we go.
Our story amazes me when
I stop and think
about the odds we surmounted
when our eyes first linked.
What our future holds
we cannot know,
but a life spent with you
makes my heart glow.
You are perfect to me
in every way
and I thank God you are mine
each and every day.

patience...

it's safe to say I have the itch... the baby itch, I mean. I thought it might take a little longer to kick me in the gut, but low and behold I'm seeing babies everywhere and I can't take my eyes off of them and can barely resist wanting to reach out and snuggle every single one. I've got baby on the brain like I never knew was possible and all of a sudden I know what everyone else means when they say "you'll know when you're ready." I find myself jealous of others who are expecting; wishing that that expectant joy could be my own. It's exciting and frightening and nerve-racking and blissful all at the same time. I can hardly begin to describe the emotions that run through me just at the thought of one day welcoming a new life into the world that I helped to bring into being... It's amazing to me to think that, even though there are no signs as of yet, my body has everything necessary to create new life. The human body is a truly magnificent creation.

Yesterday, Father's Day, we spent some truly memorable moments with our extended family at my grandparents' house, and it was such a delight to see my nephew (just over 1 yr old) and my cousin's 2 little ones (4 yrs and almost 2 yrs) all playing together in the front yard. To see my nephew watching his older cousins, giggling and frolicking in his unsteady 1-yr-old way, sometimes his own feet getting ahead of him and inevitably tumbling to the ground in a loss of balance, was just pure joy. They really have not a care in the world and were just excited to be right there in that place and time enjoying the fresh air, the company of one another and the luxury of their endless imagination. I could watch that interaction for hours, mesmerized by the mystery of what their little minds hold - what they're thinking at every moment.

I have always been a planner.... I do my research, I find what I like, I learn answers to my questions and I store it all up until it becomes necessary. Already, I'm foraging for information about pregnancy, symptoms, proper diet, nutrition and exercise, nursery decor, etc. I'm not even pregnant yet, but the fact that I'm concerned about how to change my antique, marble-topped dresser (that I refuse to get of and so must find  a way to re-purpose) into a changing station might be a sign that it's on my mind. :) All my research may in fact be working against me because I feel like I'm imagining all the symptoms I've read about. Thankfully I have a realistic husband and a patient mother who are both tolerating my silliness at this point...

But it is indeed so very exciting. I can already tell I'll have a very hard time keeping my little secret a secret when I do finally have a secret until the 'suggested' time that it's safe to spread the news. For now, I just have to wait for that secret.....patiently.

donor...

It's amazing to hear the medical feats that are happening every day when it comes to people's lives being changed by transplants. I think it's even more poignant when you know that someone could be walking around today due to the donated organs of a loved one. Just reading an article on CNN's U.S. page about a boy returning home after a successful heart transplant makes me think about whether my father's organs were able to change someone else's life. It's strange on the one hand to think about someone walking around with my father's eyes, his skin, his bones; a morbid reminder that his death was necessary for someone else's life. But it's amazing at the same time...to think that even in death, he is affecting people in such a momentous way.

I can't help but feel emotional with Father's Day approaching this coming weekend. Every once in a while, completely at random, I'll flash back to that day...that moment when my life so drastically and unexpectedly changed. More often than not, I'm still moved to tears or at least the threat of tears and I wonder when that will end if ever. Unbeknownst to anyone but my husband, I visited my father's grave site a month or so ago and simply found myself kneeling in the grass beside his grave crying, talking, praying. There are days when I miss him so very much, overwhelmed by anger and confusion and questioning why it had to happen. Then there are days when I feel like I'm forgetting him; his face, his voice, his laugh. Those days scare me because I never want to forget...

And then there are days like today, where after reading such a moving article, I wonder if I'll ever know the extent to which my father changed any number of lives.

savor...

Cooking is my outlet. It always has been I love knowing that at the end of a long day at work (especially long being my first day back after a week's vacation in Mexico), I can come home and just plant myself in the kitchen and take a handful of otherwise mundane ingredients by themselves and put them together to create something delicious and satisfying.

Anyone else who's done the vapid stare into the fridge the day after returning from vacation knows the thoughts that were churning through my mind yesterday morning as I wondered what I could possibly concoct for dinner. The half-empty shelves shared little inspiration, so I resolved to take out the last pre-portioned pair of frozen chicken breasts from the freezer to thaw and figure something out as the day went on.

A quick stop at the local grocery on my way home with a meager $20 from my quickly dwindling checking account afforded me an idea and a goal, so home I went. I had recalled a recipe I'd come up with on my own way back in high school when I was house-sitting frequently, most especially for my grandparents who were avid travelers before the economic crisis hit. Knowing I already had most of the ingredients at home and that the necessary ones weren't too expensive, that was my plan. When I really want to just lose myself in the kitchen, I turn on my Pandora Radio and embrace the relaxing, folk-ish tunes of bands suggested to me by my earthy cousin, Kaylan (fellow blogger, photographer and now new mother) like Iron and Wine and the Avett Brothers mixed in with my own personal favorites like Norah Jones, John Mayer and James Taylor.

From there, my hands just go to work and I can only imagine the contented smile I must have on my face the whole time. Once you understand the rules of cooking (or perhaps the lack of rules) and learn what flavors go well together, the possibilities are endless. The harmony of seared chicken and boiling sauce, clinking pans and the slap of spatulas and wooden spoons mingle to produce a symphony of the senses - sight, smell, sound and taste. I know that balsamic vinegar with a touch of pineapple juice, crushed pineapple, garlic and a tablespoon or so of molasses reduced makes a delicious sauce that poured over pan-seared oven-roasted chicken and wild rice becomes an explosion of flavor. With nothing else to work with, a bag of frozen yellow and white sweet corn had to suffice as a side, but with such a delectable entree in the spotlight, it didn't matter.

Perhaps the most satisfying part of the whole experience, though, is knowing that my husband will be both impressed and happy to come home to such a delicious meal. For me, cooking isn't a chore. It's a way to both express myself and express my love without saying one single word. And of course being able to eat my creations in the end is a pretty substantial perk...

hope...

Vacation definitely has a way of just making you forget everything and think of anything all at the same time. I just returned Sunday from a fabulous break from reality on the beautiful azure coast of Cancun. With hours spent by the pool, drinking up every ray of sunshine and luxuriating in the peaceful, playful crash of waves and melodic songs of exotic birds, it was certainly time well spent in so many ways. I set a record for myself by reading more books in one week than I'd ever done before. I enjoyed enlightening conversations with my in-laws and romantic honeymoon-reminiscent dinners and evenings with my wonderful husband.

One seemingly epitomizing event out of the whole vacation, however, stems from my own self-reflective, spiritual experience. We pampered ourselves with an afternoon spa indulgence at the resort next door and I found myself relaxing on a level never experienced before in the quiet, heat of the sauna with the gentle zen tones emanating from the gently illuminated walls and the minty lemongrass incense permeating every pore. As I laid there, wrapped in my towel, my mind was suddenly flooded with the thoughts of everyone I know and what I want for them. How I want happiness and content for my mother, possibly someone new to come into her life and share her experiences as a grandparent as she gets older. How I wished my brother's wedding to unfold exactly how they are planning it and that they enjoy a lifetime of bliss and that my mother truly enjoy her first tropical, international experience and that she get to embrace all that she's wanted to do for her whole life. How I hope my other brother and his wife have more children and that their son Henry will continue to grow into the strong, brilliant young man I can see him becoming, so perfectly fitting into the shoes of his grandfather for whom he's named. How I hope my own body would be ready and capable to bring forth the children my husband and I so desperately want. How I wish my grandparents would live long enough to see many more great-grandchildren enter the world and see their most valued traditions and beliefs passed on to yet another generation. And overall, how I hope my father, sitting in the glowing richness of heaven, could look down on all of us and know, despite how our hearts long for him, his voice, his laughter, his wisdom, his ceaseless knowledge of the most random facts, his strength and courage, that we are all okay and that we will never forget him. I found myself praying all of these things, overwhelmed by the sense of calm I felt washing over me. It was like a vacation from my constant worries and questions.

Vacation is such a perfect time to not just unplug from the world, but more importantly plug into the things you so often take for granted. I'm sure as I dive back into my work, the drudgery of everyday menial tasks like laundry, cleaning, pumping gas, grocery shopping, I'll forget about this peaceful, spiritual moment now and then. But I hope that I won't allow myself to wait for another day in a sauna to let myself relax like that again because who knows when that will come around.

Memorial Day...

Coming up this weekend is Memorial Day. Commonly referred to as the unofficial start of summer, Memorial Day is often a day where people can enjoy a break from work, spend time outside cooking out and relaxing with friends and family. I feel like the true meaning of the holiday is slipping away, and this rings true for me especially as I see our family traditions shifting more and more each year.

As a child, I distinctly recall the succession of events our family engaged in every Memorial Day. It all started by purposely donning an outfit consisting of red, white and blue. Then we met up with my cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents for the annual Pancake Breakfast at the school. We kids would usually gobble up our breakfast and then head outside to the playground while the adults gabbed before leaving to head to one of the local cemeteries to join the children's choir in singing a handful of Patriotic songs. Thanks to that experience, I actually remember most of the words to moving pieces like "My Country 'Tis of Thee," "This Land is Your Land," "America, America," and of course the National Anthem. A troop of soldiers from the local parade would always be present and after firing the guns, we kids would scramble to collect the empty bullet shells. We'd then head to the main street where the parades took place which as a kid were always an impressive production - bands, percussion, fire trucks, police cruisers, the whole gamut. We'd follow the parade to another cemetery where a speech would be made, more patriotic music was played and then we'd march on down to the town common for more speeches (as a kid it did get a little boring), and the reciting of the names of local soldiers either killed in action or missing in action.

From there, the fun would begin. We'd head to my great-grandmother's house for coffee. And by coffee, that mean iced coffee full of delicious cream and sugar and a fabulous array of donuts, brownies and coffee cake. We kids would run off and play, hanging from tree limbs, scouring the sides of the railroad tracks for treasures and doing whatever else kids do. Then, the day was normally filled with either a trip to the zoo and a picnic in the park or to the beach or just to my grandparents' house for a day of playing, relaxing and visiting.

But the important thing was the parades and remembering the veterans, the soldiers and even our own loved ones who have passed on. In recent years, I've noticed the parades getting smaller and the crowds getting thinner. Memorial Day is a hard day for me now that the day usually includes visiting my own father's grave - something I simultaneously both wish I did more often and yet hesitate to do. But even though something may be difficult, it's still worth doing.

As silly as it sounds, there was a very poignant scene in the recently released movie Battleship that I went to see last weekend with friends. When all odds were against the main characters and their resources seemed entirely depleted and all hope was lost, WWII veterans stepped up and performed like they hadn't been out of the service for a second. The thing we should remember - not just for one day but every day - is that these men and women made such a sacrifice, displayed such courage, wore such bravery, bore such humility all for the sake of our country, our freedoms, our livelihood. If asked, many of us wouldn't be strong enough to do the same, and the fact that someone else was deserves the utmost respect.

I'm not writing this to tell people how to spend their holiday. I know from personal experience that traditions have a tendency of changing with the generations. But if you see a soldier or a veteran on Monday, tip your hat. Shake their hand. Give them a pat on the back. Show them that their service was not in vain. Show them the respect and the honor that they deserve, because without our servicemen and women our country would not be what it is today.

refresh...

It's funny to me how I can look outside and suddenly see thriving life where just 2 months ago, the branches were bare and the ground was cold. It's like I blinked and suddenly the world is green and vibrant. I can't help but be invigorated by the beauty that really is all around. My friend and I have been regularly going on our morning runs together three times a week, and even though the alarm clock goes off way too early some days, the reward of a beautiful sunrise and crisp morning air and the occasional bunny makes it worthwhile (in addition to maintaining my waistline - or at least attempting to).

Over the weekend, I took a slow stroll around the house, and it was so exciting for me to see my gardens bursting to life. I have 2 clematis vines that are still young, but growing well, climbing along their trellises, and I will admit I can't wait to see the first sign of blossoms on them. My pansies, given to me by my mother in law at Easter, are surprisingly doing quite well around my bird bath, although as the days get hotter and the sun stronger, they may begin to wilt. Our azalea bushes have big, beautiful pink flowers on them, and we even have some white irises that surprised us by opening up this year (the past two years, we've just gotten leaves, but no flowers). There is just something so satisfying about knowing that your work is literally blossoming before your eyes; comfort in seeing that the seasons will always continue to change and new life is always being welcomed into the world and making it a more beautiful place.

While fall has always been a favorite season of mine, I think spring is quickly taking the front seat. At a time in my life when I am frequently reminded of a constant absence brought on by death, the reminder of new life and beauty and joy is refreshing.

write...

After what feels like a pretty long stint of not being inspired to write, I've found myself picking up an old story I'd started quite a few months ago (dare I even say maybe a year ago) and deliberately and excitedly adding to it. With the help of one of my beloved coworker's frequent inquiries of "What happened to Claire?" I am finally making Claire move forward. I have found in most of my writing that including some of my own life experiences, although through the eyes of a fictional character, has definitely helped give my stories that other level of relateability, an emotional connection between the reader, author and character.

The idea that I'm able to sit down and easily type out a handful of pages makes me feel like I haven't lost it - that passion for writing, for words, for creating a story. Considering it's what my degree is in, a degree I pursued after deciding what I thought I wanted to do - dental hygiene - wasn't really my dream after all; my dream was in fact becoming a published author and having my writing skills recognized by complete strangers. My dream was moving people with my words, making an impact on their lives simply by creating an image through the stringing together of words that by themselves have little meaning.

Recently it seems like there have been so many trending books out there like the Twilight Series, The Hunger Games, and who can forget Harry Potter? I debate whether I want to be that author; that author who is readily and frequently talked about and whose prose are transformed into box office busters. Or would I rather be the unsuspecting author who is one day discovered and whose name is quietly whispered from ear to ear, shared from friend to friend. "You have to read this book out by this new author. I couldn't put it down!" Oh I shutter with glee at the thought.

For now I'll continue to plug away at my stories, tucking my goal in my back pocket and just waiting for it to fall into my lap.

Girls' Night In...

I've been told plenty of times that I should quit my day job and become an event planner. This statement came up most often while I was in the throes of wedding planning and everyone seemed to be charmed by my organization and clear vision of what I wanted our wedding to be. But it is safe to say that just about any event I host, whether it's a dinner party with the parents or an open house for my Pampered Chef business, I do my best to make it fun and festive.

This coming weekend, I have a Girls' Night In planned, and I couldn't be more excited. Partly just because it's the first opportunity since my husband and I got married that he'll be out of the house overnight and I can do whatever I please. Now I love my husband very much, but let's face it ladies - sometimes, we girls just like to have fun without the men. So I'm fully embracing the opportunity to make this rare event as indulgently girly as possible. And what screams girly more than delicious desserts accented with the perfectly pink decor.

The dining room table will be my canvas where I'll focus the bulk of my decorating. Since we're planning on a chickflick night, I figured what goes better with movies than candy, so I wanted to somehow incorporate a candy-bar theme into my centerpiece while still keeping the overall look shabby chic, springy and grown-up. Thanks to a quick stop by Home Goods - my most favorite store in the world - I found 3 perfectly mismatched apothecary jars with lids - one tall and slender, one similarly tall, but wider, and one short and fat. I plan to fill these with fun goodies like Twizzlers, M&M's and Starburst.

 I also found two placemats made with this beautiful pink rose pattern and accented with coordinating striped fabric on one edge. By abutting the placemats against each other lengthwise - striped accent on the farthest edges - I effectively created an adorable and inexpensive (each placemat was only $2.99) runner.

I knew I had to have something else under the runner though to soften the rest of the table, so I found 2 yards of this darling sheer white polka-dotted tulle at Joann's to use as my underlay. Finally, I needed to add some actual flowers to the spread, so I found some life-like miniature daisies and some pink lavender-looking flowers in the silk flower section of Joann's to intersperse among the base of the apothecary jars. After I made this purchase, I was just dying to get home and see it all together. My fingers are just itching to get started...

And now for the best part - the menu. Because Saturday is in fact May 5 (aka Cinco de Mayo) it was necessary to work in some Spanish flare into the evening, so we'll be enjoying margaritas (one of my specialties as a bartender in a past life) and five-layer dip among other delicious snacks. But the sweet treats are the real stars of the evening. I decided to play on grown-up verses whimsical desserts and introduce the two, so I'm making a New York Style cheesecake with cherry topping (grown-up) and also assembling a brownie sundae buffet of sorts. Tell me that doesn't sound like fun! I haven't had a brownie sundae since....well maybe like a month or to ago...but not to the extremes I'm going to for this party. I'm pulling out all the stops for this brownie buffet - we're talking sprinkles, crumbled oreos, candy, fudge sauce and of course whipped cream. You can admit you're jealous....right after you wipe the drool from your lip.

So...yes...I'll admit I am a huge fan of party planning even if it's something as simple as a girls' night with 4 or 5 of my favorite ladies. Because making a big deal out of the little things makes it all the more fun.

helping hands...

Don't you just hate those days when you wake up thinking it's Friday... but it's really not? It's a very cruel joke the brain plays, and I don't think anyone really laughs. Last night, I had to keep reminding myself that it was in fact Wednesday, not Thursday and that today was actually Thursday, not Friday. It's funny how we wish our way through the five-day workweek only to savor two fleeting days that are the weekend.

We have a choice when those two days come again so welcomed on our doorstep: we can either embrace our free time by tackling the inevitably long to-do list that no doubt faces each and every one of us, whether it's go grocery shopping, mow the lawn, weed the garden, go to the doctor, fold the laundry...or for many of us nowadays go to work (job #1, 2 or 3 or etc); or we can look that list square in the eye and instead ignore it, forget about it, crumple it up and simple see where the day's surprises take you.

I had the opportunity to change my plans last weekend and instead of doing menial work around my own home, I opted to drive the 45 minutes down to my mother's house and help her with her own long list of to-do's that I very well know she can't do herself. Sometimes, it's so easy to forget what each person's limitations are and to realize what our own undirected abilities really can be. I probably moved over 500 lbs of dirt that was leftover from when my mom had her house hooked up to town water; it was an ominous, ugly pile of dirt casting a shadow on her driveway and she just didn't want to look at it anymore, but she couldn't physically do anything about it. I determined that I was going to do as much as I could to make that dirt pile disappear. So with each shovel-ful, each wheelbarrow-ful, each trip to the backwoods, I told myself 'keep going, keep going.'

When we encourage ourselves, we push our own limits, and I believe that when we know we are doing something good- something that directly affects someone else - our limits become even more surpassable. Just knowing that I was able to help my mother in that small way, for just a few hours' time, and make a dent in her list was enough for me to be satisfied. Because those things on our list...they'll still be there tomorrow, or next weekend, and they're patient enough to wait for us to do them. We should always add one thing to the very top of that list - to help someone else. There is no better feeling than knowing you've made a difference in someone else's life.

loving this life...

It's never easy being in a situation where you're waiting for life to make the next move. It could mean remaining in the same position you're in now for a while or seeing something new - good or bad - come along unexpectedly. It's safe to say that I'm a control freak. I'm organized to a fault and I like to know what is going to happen when. If I want to hang out with my friends, I plan it weeks in advance just so I can mark it on my calendar. I'm not one of those people that usually just does things on a whim - unless it involves an impulse purchase from Home Goods which I am frequently guilty of.

I feel like currently I have far too many things hanging on the balance of life, but then I have to stop myself and say 'who doesn't?' There are plenty of questions that I simply have to accept as being unanswerable until the answer is literally right in front of me. Sometimes, that's just how life is. It's not easy... It's not always fun... It's definitely not fair. But when I start thinking down that path, my father's words that we always used to hear as kids always come back to me: "I didn't ask if it was fair." It's that unfortunate truth we all have to accept. If life was fair, my father would still be alive, I wouldn't have to work for a living, and the garden would weed itself.

Life is what we make it. We can only work with what we have. If we continually covet what we don't have, we'll never be happy. That's why I love finding satisfaction in the small things... Because spotting a red-winged blackbird in the field down the street, savoring a package of M&M's on a cloudy afternoon, holding the hand of the one you love - those are things that will never cease to amaze when you make a point to really embrace them.

wait....

Do you ever find yourself waiting for that one important email containing all-encompassing, life-changing news and you can't help checking your email every other minute, only to either find nothing or maybe worse to find some stupid, mundane piece of spam in its place? And with each passing minute, every time you look and don't find what you're looking for, the anger, confusion and overall depression just continues to build.

I hate the desperation I feel churning in my stomach. I hate being so anxious and having my future at the subject of someone else's whimsy. I just want an answer so I can stop wondering, waiting and looking.... even though I know that not having the answer I want means I just have to start the process all over again.

$363 Million...

So this week there is a jackpot of $363 million in the Powerball lottery... Our office has a pool every week, but because of this ridiculous pot, there was a special extra pool at a $5 buy-in. Normally, I'm not a frivolous spender, but I figured for the investment on a gabillion percent return, I'd take the risk.

Now the question I'm seeing all over the Internet, and inwardly asking myself, is what I would do with that money should I actually win (instead of getting struck by lightening 7 times or whatever the odds are). As I said before, though, I'm not a very frivolous spender and I would like to think I'd be somewhat smart about spending my millions.

First, I'd donate a portion to charity. I know there's no way I could spend $363 million in my lifetime and it's worth it to give back. I'd actually probably give a lot away to family, most specifically my mother who deserves a pretty amazing break, and to anyone else who's helped us out in the recent year(s) since my father passed away.

My husband and I would sell the house we currently live in and buy one that will be big enough for our future family, go on vacation for a year around the Caribbean, Europe and Australia. Of course I'd quit my job, buy a convertible and hire a personal trainer so I can stay in the best shape of my life for the rest of my life. I'd probably buy a second home in South Carolina and get lifetime tickets to Clemson football.

And although it might sound funny, I'd have surgery on my feet by the best foot doctor in the world so I can wear whatever kind of shoes I damn well please. That's my list for now... I'm sure I could come with other things given more time. Now it's just a matter of waiting for the money to show up in my bank account. C'mon big money!

newton...

The whole process is exhausting... My anxiety is reaching levels I haven't experienced in a long time, mostly just because my desperation is that high. In less than 24 hours, I'll be subjecting myself to the torture of being under a microscope, offering up my hard work and experience for either complete slaughter or acceptance. The anticipation is more than I can take. My stomach is already churning, my fingers have begun their nervous twitch and my mind is racing a million miles a minute. What if this? What if that? What if this then that? What if nothing?

My resolve to stand up for myself and my capabilities has led me to this and I can only hope that such brazen determination will have a positive outcome. I'm not looking for a happily ever after into the sunset... I'm just looking for a happier at sunrise.

I am strong, confident, capable, and I deserve this.

spring...

It's amazing how invigorating the slightest touch of warm sunshine can be. This week, we're experiencing a sudden taste of summer in the middle of March with nearly record-breaking temperatures in the 80's and you can tell it's affecting just about everyone. People are smiling, driving with their windows down, walking with a spring in their step - literally and figuratively. Last night I was able to go on my fourth outdoor run of the spring season, and the fresh air is like a drug... the more I get out in it, the more I crave it. It's only 9 o'clock in the morning and I already can't wait to get home and lace up my running shoes and get back on the pavement.

Waking up in the morning to find the kitchen flooded with crisp, refreshing sunlight and that intoxicating scent of morning air wafting through the open window mingled with the lively chirping of Spring birds just offers a renewed sense of purpose and appreciation for new life. Just the sight of a cheerful yellow daffodil opening its petals to the morning sunshine put me in a better mood on my way to work. I find myself scouring the sides of the roads as I drive from here to there, looking for budding branches and hints of green in the rambling underbrush.

Although I'm well aware that these summer temperatures won't linger and that this unusual weather will indeed return to normal in a matter of days, it's all a welcome reminder that Spring is inevitable; vibrant color will soon reclaim its hold on the drab dullness the winter left behind; new life will return.

Despite being the center of attention already for the entire day, brides have been finding new ways to draw even more attention to themselves on their big day. One of these arising trends is wearing bold, colorful and sassy shoes below those flowing layers of lace, silk and crinoline. I like to think I was a pioneer of this trend at my own wedding (mainly because I chose to ignore all the other girls that were posting pictures of their own colored shoes). With a decided color scheme of black, white and red for my wedding, I had my heart set on finding the perfect pair of red satin peep-toe pumps. I’m a sucker for a little embellishment, so finding a pair with some sort of flower or bow in addition was absolutely necessary.

However, being a budget bride definitely put me in a bit of a predicament as I refused to pay more than $50 for my wedding shoes (to accompany my $500 La Sposa wedding gown). As if that wasn’t a big enough challenge, I was also restricting myself to a heel no higher than 3 inches as I’m on the tall side of 5’10”, my future husband is 6’3” and I refused to be taller than him in our wedding photos. After months of watching the clearance sections on all the reliable shoe stores’ websites from Macy’s and DSW to Nordstrom (who was I kidding trying to find shoes for under $200 at Nordstrom?), I finally found the shoe my heart desired: a Capparos apple-red satin peep-toe pump with a satin rose above the toe and a 2 ¾ inch heel… and for less than $50! I took a gamble on ordering a size larger than what I normally wear a.) because my size wasn’t in stock and I wasn’t about to let these shoes slip away and b.) because I had a feeling I’d need to add some extra cushioning to endure wearing them for a full day of wedded stress…er…bliss.

By some supernatural intervention, when they finally appeared on my doorstep, I opened them and tried them on to find they were a perfect fit with just enough room to spare for some Dr. Scholl’s magic. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t take a picture with my phone that very second and send it to my matron of honor in New York for her reaction. For the next few months, they sat safely in their box in my bedroom. But as the wedding date approached, I knew it was important to break them in so you can bet there was more than one occasion where I was caught wearing them around my mother’s house while performing mundane tasks - even vacuuming. And for anyone that doesn’t know, it’s pretty tricky to run a vacuum in heels.

Now although I like to think of myself as being a pretty traditional bride in that I kept my dress, my veil, etc a secret from my future husband, I ended up revealing my shoes to him since we were taking dance lessons for our big day and I wanted to get some practice in them in an attempt to avoid face-planting on the dance floor in front of our 100+ guests. Like your typical guy, his reaction to my colorful shoes was less than enthusiastic but he knew they made me happy, so he smiled and said they looked nice (he already knew the key to a successful relationship was to just smile and nod).

I think my most memorable moment even before the big reveal of my red shoes on the wedding day was my maternal grandmother’s reaction when she heard that I was indeed wearing red shoes. “Why?” she’d exclaimed in amusement. I guess she hadn’t heard of the rising trend… bless her heart.

Finally the big day had arrived and once all the hair and makeup was done and I was secured into my dress, my mother helped me slip into my red shoes I’d dreamed of wearing for months on end. Although my only thoughts as I took those steps down the aisle arm in arm with my grandfather were whispered prayers that I didn’t trip, faint or throw up while keeping my eyes on my future husband at the front of the church, I am confident there were plenty of guests in the crowd that took a peek at my fabulous shoes.

burden...

I'm stuck in a tailspin... A whirlwind that won't slow down. Just when I think the storm has calmed, it regains force and I'm tumbling and churning in a mess of emotions, fears, unknowns. This burden created by weakness, guilt, and an unceasing desire to please everyone but myself is taking its toll. I'm tired. So very tired. Tired of tears, fighting, confusion, misdirection. I want so badly to just snap my fingers and find it all fixed - make everyone happy - turn the world back on its axis.

I want answers that I know I'll never get. I want happiness that I sometimes wonder will never fully reveal itself. I want easy, carefree, lighthearted, unabashed and unrestrained pure happiness.

resume...

On the verge of a desperation-driven meltdown... My hands don't quite know what to do with themselves and I can hardly concentrate on the task at hand. I need something new, something fresh, something that excites me. I need to feel like I have a purpose, like what I do matters. At the end of the day, I turn off my computer, drive home and have little to say to my husband about my day. Each day is no different than the last. Humdrum, ho hum, twiddle my thumbs. And yet the fear of not finding something better holds me back; the hesitation in the knowledge that I might have to stretch my means and break from this cell of a daily pattern stirs an unwelcome discomfort. I want to do what I'm passionate about; I want to rediscover the skills that have fallen into the dusty, cramped crevices of my heart and mind. Is it too much to ask to want to feel like my work is worth something? I have so many beginnings stored away lacking a fitting conclusion. I need to grasp an alternative plot - I need to hold onto it so tightly that I can think of nothing else until I've attained what it is I'm striving for. I need to ignore the excuses that keep conjuring themselves up in my mind, push them over the edge of banality and climb toward extraordinary... I deserve that much.

sweet life...

It's safe to say it's been a while... My last post was way back on November 10. In the passing of a little over 2 months, a whirlwind of memories and experiences have blown by. How much can really happen in 2 months? Enough to make me look back and realize what a wonderfully amazing life I truly have.

Holidays just have a way of making you really cherish your family. Despite trying to figure out the logistics of which family we celebrate with and what to bring and where to sit, at the heart of it all is such a deep-rooted love that I feel so blessed to be a part of. The morning of Thanksgiving, my aunt's mother passed away. She was old and frail, but such a kind, sweet heart. Although it was hard to have to see my aunt sad, we can all take comfort in the knowledge that she is no longer in a state of suffering but is now rejoicing and united with her true love.

From there, we entered the happy, busy, chaotic season of Christmas and in the midst of the stress, spending and planning, it was an exciting time to not only recall the true meaning behind the season, but to share it with my husband for the first time. There was that nostalgic pang in knowing I wouldn't be at my own mother's house, but it was replaced with an excited anticipation to begin our own traditions as our own little family. As our first Christmas together as a married couple, we endured the marathon of going from one family to the other, but it was special to experience both family's traditions together.

As I know it will be probably for the rest of my life, there were those quiet moments when I felt a certain emptiness where my father's presence should have been. It's hard to even put into words the emotions that swirl in my heart and mind during those times... Sadness, heartache, jealousy. It's those feelings that I accept but try to move beyond so that they don't mar the overall experience because I know my father wouldn't want me to dwell on his absence but instead celebrate the present...and the future.

January brought with it the New Year, new surprises, new hopes and new sadness. Grandma Knapper passed away at age 77, quietly, peacefully, painlessly in her sleep. For her death, I am sad, but for how she died, I am grateful. I'm comforted to know that she is now in heaven reunited with her husband and her eldest son. And despite the sadness of her passing, her family was able to reunite together once again for the first time in a long time in her honor. It was a special time to see those I hadn't seen in so long. It renewed my appreciation for family. No matter how long we'd gone without seeing one another, when we were all together under the same roof, I could easily detect the affection we shared for one another. It is something not everyone in this world can experience and the fact that we are blessed enough to have a family as close as we are is something I am determined to not take for granted.

And amidst everything - all the joys, sorrows, celebrations, memories - I am experiencing it all with my other half. Just 4 months have passed by since we exchanged our sacred vows; those 4 months have been a time of learning and loving. Arguing and making up. Laughing and crying. I never understood what a joy it would be to simply come home and sit down to a homemade dinner with my husband. To establish a comfortable routine together that involved that special person who makes my heart flutter. To simply fall asleep and wake up in the arms of the man I am lucky enough to spend the rest of my life with. To know every day that this life is what we make it and knowing no matter what we go through we will be doing it together, hand-in-hand. And that is making it all that much sweeter.