the Caileda Journal

Hail Mary Cooking

2010-08-09T08:48:00.004-04:00

I got the loveliest compliment the other day. Someone kindly commented that they thought my cooking was 'creative'. I thought this was especially nice since I have the same cooking ruts as anyone else and when I wake up in the morning before I think about organic gluten-free blueberry cornmeal pancakes or steamy hot muffins from the oven, I'm usually already munching on a very benign bowl of cereal with milk.

What I thought was most funny was that only five years ago when I first got married, I couldn't locate a can opener or figure out how to microwave pre-made rice. So, being labeled as creative was quite the improvement. I came from good stock though, my mom is an incredible cook (as most girls think of their moms) but I still laugh at my mom's horror stories about serving raw chicken or a whole artichoke when she first got married. It was always good consolation for me to know that if she improved that much that there was hope for me too.

I think one of the secrets of being a good cook/baker is knowing where to find a good recipe and the other would be using premium ingredients: fair-trade sugar, fresh-ground flour, farm fresh-picked organic produce and raw milk (and so forth).

But I'm a substitution cook. I rarely have all the ingredients I need, so I'm always swapping out things and putting my own little twist on things. For the most part, this usually works and I usually find great recipes that highlight wonderfully fabulous seasonal foods.

But I've had my flops: like homemade bread that came out without rising and was so dense it was only good for cutting up and making croutons or a chocolate cake I made with quinoa that my husband was too embarrassed to take out of the car to bring into the office.

So, one of my final big secrets is that I'm a hail-Mary cook. If dinner/dessert is just for me, I usually don't bother, but if I'm making something for someone else, in the middle of my mess in the kitchen I throw up a quick prayer:

"Lord, I'm trying to bless (so-and-so) and I would really like this (such-and-such) dish to turn out well so it won't be a distraction to our evening. Please let this come together beautifully. Amen."

And it usually does.

Sunday Afternoon Lunch

2010-08-08T15:19:00.000-04:00

If I ever went out with my family on a Sunday afternoon for lunch, I don't remember it.

For years, Dad was the pastor of a little church and he was nearly always the person who came in early to start up the boiler for heat in the winter and nearly always the person who locked the door after the last group of people walked out the door... and I was usually the child who elected to travel with Dad to church, which meant Sundays were long days. We'd take the lake route home and I'd tell him what I thought of the sermon and Mom would have lunch ready by the time we got home and got out of our church clothes. By this time, it was usually early afternoon and exhaustion had set in.

I grew up and I married the worship pastor of our church, we moved away and the cycle continued: we'd get to church early for set-up and practice and then we'd stay until the end of the second service for tear-down after people had all gone on their merry way. We'd head home together with our daughter: hungry and emotionally/physically/spiritually exhausted, with some lingering comment about the need to polish off homework in the afternoon.

Joshua is now on sabbatical from worship ministry as we wait for Baby Davis, and I'm loving it. Last week a couple of our neighbors invited us to a Tex-Mex restaurant and since we only spent 90 minutes at church, we had the energy and the ability to go to lunch. We had a blast: there was a kids table and an adults table and conversation was fun and free-flowing. It was nice.

This week we got to go again, this time: Chinese. Of course, there's little to eat at an American-Chinese restaurant when you eat a biblical diet, but it was so refreshing to have lunch with friends, to not have to make lunch or clean up and to feel like my only agenda is making my way back home and into bed for an afternoon siesta.

Is this what everyone else has been doing all these years on Sunday afternoon? What have I been missing?!

The Honesty of a Pregnant Woman

2010-08-07T22:50:00.004-04:00

In case you were wondering, it gets lonely.

As I get closer to meeting my second baby I'm realizing the amount of distance I put myself through in my drive to being "au naturel", "crunchy", or just plain different. I get tired so often being alone in my principles, alone in my viewpoints and alone listening to mainstream objections that I've long since decided to be ill-founded and wrongfully followed.

Sometimes I just want to let my hair down and say, "look, we're both two mamas, trying to do what's best..." or "hey, we both love life, let's just sit down and have a good time." But I feel like I always have to have my guard up, like people are constantly measuring my lifestyle, my conversation or my children against an invisible standard that's been set.

My daughter changed my life. Being pregnant with her opened me up to a whole new approach to life and thought. I went from "I'm so happy I'm like everyone else" to writing out our birthing philosophy which included home-birthing my 10 lb. girl who was 8 days past her due date. My pregnancy with Aoife challenged nearly everything I 'knew' and made me reconsider all the things I didn't. My life was radically changed by that pregnancy and by my incredibly wonderful birthing experience.

I remember the day I firmly but decidedly wrote out a public 'vow' that detailed out my end to being silent on the life choices I'd made for my family. That post led me down the pathway to eventually creating a whole separate website just on my lifestyle choices: home-birthing, co-sleeping, extended breastfeeding, non-vaccinating, baby wearing, organic eating, drinking raw goat's milk, and so forth. I wanted to address all those wonderful questions I was being fielded.

However, I feel myself being backed into a corner again... being set apart and turned aside for having different viewpoints, for standing on my own two feet, for researching something against the flow of mainstream society and deciding for myself a different path to take.

Truth is, I'd love to take another stance, make another vow and say, "I'm done. I'm different than you and I can handle it. I know my child is healthier and stronger and smarter for it and my lifestyle is creating a home environment that is positive and nurturing."

But the truth is, I'm tired. I'm more likely to nod my head in the presence of additional ludicrous challenges and to walk away when I'm too exhausted to listen anymore. I'm 37 weeks pregnant and I want rest. I want friendly conversation with people who will encourage me and befriend me, not hasten to hurt and challenge because they feel threatened by my choices.

I'm ready to meet my sweet baby and have you bring over dinner and hold him too. Want to hear about my waterbirth? I'm all for it. Want to just listen to my baby coo? That's even better. We'll listen to him coo while we eat something chocolate and delicious, since I do eat that stuff too.

the simple woman's daybook

2010-08-05T22:14:00.002-04:00

Outside my window... there is a thunderstorm, complete with lightning and sheets of rain, washing my Subaru that faithfully toted me in icy A/C to the farm today when it reached 108.

I am thinking... that all the thoughts that are presented to me when I'm driving out to my farm in nice little blogs are always forgotten when I sit down to type them out.

I am thankful for... a little foot feeling for the boundaries of his temporary home underneath my ribs.

From the kitchen... I walked into my dark kitchen, found a juicy plum drying on a kitchen linen and sunk my teeth in. No prep necessary.

I am wearing... non-maternity pajamas in a size I've never considered buying before. Cute orange and green gingham shorts with crocheted trim and a green tank.

I am creating... something handmade for my parent's anniversary gift.

I am going... to one day face my fears and blog about all the things I stand for but feel opposed on.

I am reading... Childbirth Without Fear by Grantly Dick-Read

I am praying... that God's sovereign timing reigns supreme with my delivery and my parents are en-route, my daughter is asleep or at the neighbors and my husband is at home.

I am hearing... the gentle whir of the filtration system on my birthing spa that is set up in (what used to be) my dining room.

Around the house... Aoife is asleep in her bed (on the floor next to my bed), Joshua is at the university library studying, my lists lay in a nice pile next to the computer and my water bottle lays in my lap.

One of my favorite things... is a clean kitchen at night with a long taper candle lit on the stove.

A few plans for the rest of the week... lunch with a girlfriend tomorrow, baking lemon poppy seed muffins for my new neighbors, a "stretching movie" (as Aoife calls yoga videos), a morning at the beach, and another opportunity for me to sing my "A-B-C-D-G"s with my daughter.

Graduation!!

2010-05-12T22:37:00.009-04:00

After nine years, six colleges, four degree programs and 120 credits (and one husband and two children), I finally finished college this last weekend. It was an incredible push at the end to finish and I'm so glad I put every last ounce of effort on the line, so I can finally be completed with formal education - and now I can write without requirements and research without boundaries.

Joshua finished in December, so he participated in Commencement with me and since we both shared the same degree program, we were able to sit next to one another at Commissioning and Commencement. Which I thought was particularly handy, since I really like his company.

My parents flew in from Hawai'i, my best friend came up with her son from Texas and friends from the university and town joined in the celebration with us, making it so special! After having worked for the university during Commencement season, I remember the joys of graduation day and had such high hopes for the event - which were all completely as I imagined!

It's such an immense joy to be completed with something that has been a part of my life, in front of me (and in the back of my mind) for almost a decade. Chipping away each semester as we transitioned into married life, carefully planning our new life as civilians, then welcoming Aoife into our lives and finally the ongoing learning of the tasks and delights of being a home-mama.

It was in the late evening hours after Aoife was asleep, or while she napped that I read through texts, wrote posts, challenged other students and learned the full value of Sabbath. There were weeks when the homework didn't fall into my cute grid timeline and it all ended up on my lap at the end of the night while I pushed out the last assignments before my clock dinned the midnight hour.

And for the first time since my second trimester with Aoife, I had to reintroduce my glasses into my studies, since hours of studying, reading, typing and editing my thesis had brought my green eyes to see naught but blur on the computer.

But: it's all over. I'm all done. In a couple of weeks, I'll be opening up my mailbox to find a hard envelope much like my husband's several months ago. I'll rip open the cover, pull out my degree and frame it just like my husband's.

Then I'll tuck it away somewhere safe so I have plenty of wall space for all those great family

pictures and artwork my daughter creates.

Little Girl Love

2010-04-09T14:38:00.003-04:00

Aoife's 21 months old... she's getting so old so fast. She signs, she dances, she laughs and twirls, and she's a delight.

Aoife, I love the way you:

answer to just about anything: Love Child, Love Bucket, Snuppy Head, Snuggleupwithus, Aoiffers, and AOIFFENADEENABEDADAVIS!! (but only in emergencies).
have favorite foods my friends don't even eat: lentils, capers, kale juice, quinoa, & Swiss chard
beg me for more green lemonade
talk to me in the morning while you are still half-asleep
are such an outdoors-junkie. I can't wait to take you camping again this summer
start pretending to cough when Daddy talks about making a cup of coffee
are suddenly crazy in love with your Uncle Taylor - where did that come from?
you are completely obsessed with the brushing your teeth
still nurse to sleep... it's my favorite time to cuddle with you
steal *all* of my jewelry
fit in the clothes you wore when you were 6 months old
make your dad and I turn our faces away when we're disciplining you to keep from letting you see us laugh
blow raspberries and kisses to the baby in mama's belly

A Simple Thank You

2010-03-29T19:17:00.002-04:00

This last weekend I went to a woman's conference. If I've been to a woman's retreat before, it's been at least 10 years and I don't remember it. It is fair to say though, that I won't forget this weekend for a long while.

There is something so beautiful about women coming together, baring their hearts to one another, freely expressing emotion that never is given room to breathe and sharing their lives. Roomie watched Baby for the duration I was gone and I was given time to sit, listen to testimonies and watch women paint their worship.

This is my little thank you to the women who held me while I cried, listened to my heart, offered me their shoulder, ministered to my heart through worship, inspired my soul through their art and let me sit next to them while I frantically scribbled notes of indecipherable importance.

I feel that large parts of my person that have long been quiet, hiding or repressed came back alive this weekend and were given room to have new life and fresh breath again. It's an exciting thought to know that the me I know, might finally be introduced to people I've long known.

5 Years of Mayonnaise

2010-03-26T16:27:00.002-04:00

*I was realizing lately I write/blog/think about my daughter a lot... but not nearly enough about my husband. So, this is the culmination of some recently ruminating thoughts following our 5 year wedding anniversary.

Name: Mayonnaise, Roomie, The Crunchy Daddy, the Listener, Papa or Joshua (depending on which blog you read or who you ask).

Age: "Just a baby", but much older and wiser than me

Occupation: He gets paid to write books for the government, but he does dishes, folds laundry, and chases around a delightful little person who only stands half-way up his leg.

Passions: Anything that he can strum a chord on, most recently his dulcimer but always his Taylor. He is emphatically attached to books, preferably hardcover, and requires thought or imagination. Favorites include Tolkein and Lewis but he's been known to scroll through an online reader of local and national politics and economics. He's dramatically changed in his tastes since we first met but he loves SOLE food, especially if paired well with a 15 year or better Scotch.

Guilty Pleasures: Hiding a stifled laugh at our misbehaving and mischievous daughter (who is our carbon copy in demeanor, attitude, and sass), sneaking chocolate chips from the freezer, listening to the Car Guys on Saturday morning on the way to the farmer's market and stealing a kiss in the morning from his sleeping wife.

Interests: Learning. Always learning: Sustainable agriculture, foreign policy, economic and political futures, bicycling or anything that maintains his reputation as a walking encyclopedia.

Reasons I love him: Well, I think this is one of those questions that has too many answers to list here, but I think it's remarkable that he's completely different than the person I married 5 years ago and in that time we've grown so remarkably similar. We discovered a route together that leads away from the mainstream and draws us closer together as a family off the grid. What I find is so stunning is his shocking way of still surprising me - I love surprises, but I love the thought he offers it all.

I think I'll keep this mayonnaise at least another 5 years.

Begging Spring

2010-03-25T20:38:00.002-04:00

Something changed in me since I birthed my sweetie daughter. I used to be completely partial to autumn. I have more autumnal decor items than I do Christmas. It drives Roomie bananas when August comes to a close and though we are weeks from the cooler weather and autumnal equinox, I will beg him to pull out my autumn boxes and let me start rummaging through all the orange and brown fabrics, leaf plates, twig pumpkins and fall foliage table linens.

Two years ago, during the beginnings of summer, my sweetie little babe was born. I had my hands full that summer and the autumn boxes didn't even come out that year. Over the winter I learned about SOLE food and dug deep into pick-your-own farms , started my own deck garden (which actually grew!) and really found I enjoyed summer for the first time. Autumn came last year and we were completely in love with our farmer's markets, foraging in the wild and camping that we were actually disappointed when summer drew to a close.

This winter was amazing. Aoife is growing in ways that teaches me daily about myself, but she loves the outdoors and with so many freak snow storms this last winter, we both have been begging spring to come. It's been weird for me. I love jeans, Birks, long-sleeved t-shirts and a worn sweatshirt with a ball cap. I cannot wait to go swimming with Aoife. Yes, warm sun, swimsuit, sand, the whole bit.

We joined into a local organic farm that houses our long-eared goat, through which we will be getting all our summer produce and we saw the little starts of seedlings that will soon become the heirloom and heritage varietals that will move farm-to-table to the waiting fork and fingers of my daughter.

Sharing baby goats, growing plants, warm earth, salty spray of the ocean, harvesting our own food and teaching my family about food, how to eat and how to love one another makes each season such a joy. There's so much for her to learn, experience and be excited by that I look forward to sharing it with her...

If only spring could come just a little faster!

New Year's Resolutions

2010-01-13T22:14:00.004-05:00

Roomie and I decided the best way to spend our new year would be to chase around TWO babies. So... sometime in September, we will be welcoming another little garden dweller into our hearts and lives and will be busily trying to photograph that child almost as much as we did for the first child (our friends tell us it's impossible).

December Photo Project:: 12/22/09

2009-12-22T22:33:00.003-05:00

This is Aoife's Christmas gift from Nanna and GrandDad: a bright red tricycle! We will be away on Christmas so Aoife got to open her gift from her Hawaiian grandparents early... she was so excited about the cool little pedals, the little dumping bucket and the fantastic wheels! Yay for first bikes!

December Photo Project:: 12/21/09

2009-12-21T22:56:00.000-05:00

Snacking on apples and strawberries...
Sitting in "big people" chairs...
Sharing their toys and conversation...
Saying good-bye (for now) to another friend.

December Photo Project:: 12/20/09

2009-12-20T22:38:00.000-05:00

I was reading a great contribution on Shutter Sisters a post called The Place Where You Stand. The end of the entry asked the reader to respond in kind and likewise take a photo of the place where you stand.

For me, I stand/walk/run usually a couple of paces behind the long gait of my strong husband or after the short chubby strides of my toddler. Sometimes I am next to them, othertimes I am behind. Truth is, I like the view behind them. They are my favorite.

December Photo Project:: 12/19/09

2009-12-19T08:33:00.000-05:00

Dinner in a roasting pan: butternut squash, sweet potato, celery, red onion, beet and blue potato. Dinner on the stove: parsleyed-pine nut-quinoa with sesame seeds.
Friends around the table... such a tasty evening.

December Photo Project:: 12/18/09

2009-12-18T08:42:00.002-05:00

Lunch. An orange soup of types: carrot, red lentil and butternut squash with fennel fronds and red onion. So yummy in my tummy and good for warding of the fridgid cold here in Virginia.

December Photo Project:: 12/17/09

2009-12-17T08:39:00.002-05:00

This is the first photo I've taken of my daughter on the potty. I should have started taking them a long time ago... Aoife has been using the potty since she was only six weeks old (yes, you read that right). Aoife is now in big girl panties and uses the potty all the time now at 18 months old. I stepped out of the bathroom for a moment and she had somehow flipped around to play with the items on the back of the toilet. I thought it was just too cute.

December Photo Project:: 12/16/09

2009-12-16T22:17:00.000-05:00

Roomie and I are finishing finals this week. I have one more semester to go and Roomie is completed with degree number one and will move on to two and three simultaneously next semester. That is, if we can finish this week. We are both leadership/management students and our studies have started to verge on the redundant... and at 3 in the morning after a couple cups of fair-trade, shade-grown, it certainly all sounds the same. *yawn*

December Photo Project:: 12/15/09

2009-12-15T22:12:00.000-05:00

Aoife loves helping. Even today in the chiropractor's office... she answered phones, made calculations about insurance payments and scheduled appointments, all while Mommy and Daddy got adjusted and spent 20 long minutes in the "resting room". *bliss*

December Photo Project:: 12/14/09

2009-12-14T22:06:00.000-05:00

She's immensely curious, funny, witty, and overwhelmingly charming.
I love that she makes faces at me and rolls her eyes at the ones I make to her.
I think it's adorable that she pretends: to be me, to be Daddy, to be a kitty.
She wants to know how things work: "will I always fall down when I'm climbing on Mommy's architect's desk?"
She wants to understand dynamics: "is Mommy always going to catch me?"
But most of all, I love that she never doubts my love for her.
Today, we colored and she kept smiling across the room at me.

I love her. So immensely.

December Photo Project:: 12/13/09

2009-12-13T14:27:00.002-05:00

Baby is growing up.
She stands at the table with us and eats what we eat: kosher, mostly local, mostly vegan and as simple as possible. Today she decided that she wanted to help daddy... since he's so faithful to feed her sometimes. I couldn't help but laugh out loud and watch the two of them play with the red lentil and leek soup I made for lunch.

December Photo Project:: 12/12/09

2009-12-12T09:39:00.000-05:00

My mom has to remind me that plants need water. I forget that sometimes. My Christmas cactus is prolific with blossoms this year and it reminds me of my grandmother. I lost my Nanna B when I was really young and there are very few things that I own that she touched: this plant was once hers. By a freak chance of luck (mainly my parents moving to Turkey), it was left at my house and when they moved to Hawai'i, it stayed with me.

It's a little way to make sure Nanna B is close by, watching Aoife play and me become the mom she would have been so proud of.

December Photo Project:: 12/11/09

2009-12-11T22:06:00.005-05:00

"Chestnuts roasting on an open fire
Jack Frost nipping on your nose,
Yuletide carols being sung by a choir,
And folks dressed up like Eskimos."

Chestnuts make me think of whinny horses, thick brunette hair and eating fresh roasted chestnuts dipped in honey with my Roomie. There is something intrinsically fantastic about them though... they come in the autumn (my favorite), they pop in the oven and they are so heartwarming and mealy. What yumminess!

December Photo Project:: 12/10/09

2009-12-10T21:28:00.000-05:00

It's been cold here in Virginia Beach this last week and I found myself last night finally uploading photos from my little point-and-shoot digital camera I took to Hawai'i. I spent a day snorkling with my family in Hanauma Bay two months ago, and I can still feel the warm waves, soft sand and gentle breezes... and watch my daughter happily eating her weight in tropical fruit.

December Photo Project:: 12/09/09

2009-12-09T22:47:00.004-05:00

There's a patch of old snow in the corner
That I should have guessed
Was a blow-away paper the rain
Had brought to rest.

It is speckled with grime as if
Small print overspread it,
The news of a day I'd forgotten--
If ever I read it.
-Robert Frost

December Photo Project:: 12/08/09

2009-12-08T22:57:00.006-05:00

She eats the bread fresh out of the machine: organic, whole-grain and full of words she can't pronounce, like "amaranth", "quinoa", and "hulled hemp seed".
She eats tomatoes: plum, grape, cherry or fresh off the bush at Nanna's.
She eats the brown rice that I put ginger and fresh garlic on for our stir-fry pilaf. She thinks it even tastes better when you eat it with a chopstick.
She eats Turkish minted red lentil soup. She doesn't care that it has red onion in it and will probably make her breath stinky.
She loves apples... I can barely make it to the front of the store before she's reached around into the fabric bag and pulled one out and started eating it.
She loves kisses... and the more of my cheek, forehead or lips she can kiss the happier she is.

December Photo Project:: 12/07/09

2009-12-07T23:50:00.002-05:00

December Photo Project:: 12/06/09

2009-12-06T12:08:00.002-05:00

Winter finally came this last week... with rain. It's been chill-to-the-bone kind of weather. Rainy and dreary without the possibility of jumping in puddles. No hope of snow or even friendly frost to entertain us... just "stay-in-the-house" weather. Which, as it turns out, is perfect for coloring, baking, and sharing memories with your daughter. Maybe Winter in Virginia isn't so bad.

December Photo Project:: 12/05/09

2009-12-05T23:05:00.003-05:00

Over her shoulder

I can see something new,

something fresh.

~~~

When she smiles at me,
I feel something
brimming over with love.
~~~
Just watching her
sitting at my architect's desk
holding a crayon
for the first time.

December Photo Project:: 12/04/09

2009-12-04T22:58:00.000-05:00

This is my "before" photo of my dining room. This is after the ceremonious removal of all things autumnal that are now safely stored away in my storage unit across town and before the great "twinkle-light" unveiling of Christmas. Well, perhaps not so 'great'. Just a couple of decorations (sans tree) to keep it festive, but focused. Just wanted to give you a baseline so you can see how cutie it gets for Christmas!

December Photo Project:: 12/03/09

2009-12-03T09:56:00.003-05:00

Congratulations, indeed! Roomie just got accepted into a joint-graduate degree program: a Masters of Strategic Foresight from the School of Global Leadership and Entrepreneurship and a Masters of Divinity in Practical Theology from the School of Divinity. Yay for Roomie!!

December Photo Project:: 12/02/09

2009-12-02T12:01:00.002-05:00

I modified a recipe I wrote for muffins and turned it out into a springform pan. This fantastic wintery breakfast had sprinkled raw pumpkin seeds sprinkled on top and is made with goat's milk yogurt, organic blackstrap molasses, candied ginger and fresh roasted chestnuts. So yummy!

December Photo Project:: 12/01/09

2009-12-01T21:46:00.002-05:00

I love the library.

My brother reminds me that it's "like Blockbuster, but for books... and it's free". It's a wonderful opportunity to be presented with fresh resources while checking out materials you aren't sure about yet and don't want to commit to buying. In my bag this week are books about baking, motherhood, natural pregnancy, food politics and natural living.

What's in your bag from the library?

December Photo Project

2009-12-01T21:37:00.003-05:00

I'm jumping board with Rebecca Tredway of Tredways fame for her December photo project. I haven't had an easy time being very faithful on frequently posting on this blog. Let's see if I can pull a little wintery spark of creativity into my photography and remember to actually post it online for you to see!

Chai in the evening

2009-11-30T12:56:00.004-05:00

There were dregs of cardamom

in the bottom of my cup

like tiny sandy rivers

carrying me closer to my mom.

Swirling steam rises

from my tiny glass

tasting and remembering

moment after moment with her.

Sitting alone in my chair

thinking of her wisdom

her grace

her way.

Wishing she were here

drinking the last

dregs of cardamom

in my cup.

My Birthday in Pumpkin

2009-11-21T00:13:00.002-05:00

I recently celebrated another birthday.

Not any significant number or milestone, but probably one of the best birthdays I've ever had.

I have missed out my favorite part of the year: autumn. In 2007, I was sick with morning/afternoon/evening pregnancy sickness, and in 2008, I was too tired with being a new mommy to really celebrate autumn or any of its ensuing fantastic events. This year I whipped open my autumn decorations, put on George Winston's Autumn collection and made plans for my birthday well before summer was even completed.

This year, I was able to take a trip with my close friends to go pumpkin picking, my husband threw me a surprise party (I love surprise parties) and my friends all purchased super "greenie" gifts for me. In fact, my best friend went so far as to tell me that for my birthday she and her household were going paper-product-free (no napkins, paper towels, toilet paper)! :D

Beyond that though, Roomie made a really outstanding effort to love me up... and it showed. My presents were wrapped and "hidden" behind the couch over a week before my birthday and he almost couldn't handle the wait! It really delighted my heart that he was so excited to bless me and that he had gone out of his way to illustrate that love for me in a practical way. It was so fantastic feeling so loved. Now I realize just how high he set the bar for his birthday... boy am I in trouble.

Autumn Daze

2009-11-02T22:47:00.004-05:00

For some reason, I've really been overwhelmed this last week with love for Baby. I know that must sound funny to say, but as a mom sometimes we forget the little things like stopping to watch them play and learn how their mind works simply by the way they communicate with us. I get so involved with the day to day minutia at times that loving Baby seems so second-nature I forget that I need to be intentional about it. This week I have.

I have watched her sleep and loved the way her eyes flutter as she dreams and I was sitting in bed next to her when she talked in her sleep this morning (just like Roomie). I laughed out loud and almost woke her up. Yesterday, she was walking around the house looking for something when she noticed I was watching her, so she smiled, waved and walked on. I followed her and she made it a chase, which ended with us both on the floor, tickling, laughing and long sighs of happiness exuding from us both.

I love when she lets me tickle her. I mean, there are times that she laughs when I touch her and there are times that I'm really tickling and she can't help it, but there are times when she sits and waits for me to tickle her and her laughter suggests that it really isn't the tickling that delights her, but just that she relishes the connection. She loves all the physical touch and she loves that we are playing together. Little girls need lots of love and I'm happy to give it to her.

Baby still nurses and though she's eating more of my bread and raw whole foods, I think it's her one-on-one time with me that she finds most important. Her eyes follow me and even when I know she isn't eating, she just strokes my face and croons out happy noises and nods her head when I ask her if she loves Mommy. My favorite is when she climbs across my body while she's nursing and I start to nibble her toes... and she laughs. I can hear the struggle: she wants to laugh, but she doesn't want to drop her latch. It's absolutely beautiful to see her joy.

When we were at Nanna and GrandDad's in Oahu last week, she started becoming fascinated with finger snapping. Roomie and I were putting her to sleep last night when she finally made a noise snapping. Her little fingers had been trying to figure it out and it was this brief moment where one of her little snaps made noise... then Roomie and I made a whole lot of noise congratulating her. She was so proud of herself.

I adore that she is so social. I'm not. There are so many things I see in her that are representative of myself but this is one thing she really got from Roomie: a love for people. Grocery shopping used to be a pretty lonely experience, up and down aisles looking for things, grumbling through line and racing home to throw things in the fridge. Now, it's "hi" to the lady near the raw fruit bars, "hiya" (aren't I so cute?) to the guy next to the kohlrabi in the fridge, and big hammy smiles to the lady looking at the coconut oil. Which leads into conversation about whatever little people they have in their lives and a complete absent mindedness about the chilled items in my cart. Baby is 16 months and for the first time this last week was held by one of my best girlfriend's husbands. Walked over, hands up... the "I want to see eye-to-eye with you" kind of hold. I was across the building, but I knew what she was saying: "you are finally okay with me, buddy".

I've had to stop and laugh at my little person who fights me for the phone, my purse and has a fascination with my lip balm. The mimicry is really comical.

She's so beautiful, so loving, so happy and brings me so much pride. I think it's time I go curl up with her...

#18 Realized

2009-08-12T20:05:00.003-04:00

Recently, I wrote a post about some random facts about myself. On that list of 25 pieces of trivia, number 18 said:

"One day, Joshua and I want to own a Subaru Outback."

And buy one, we did.

I went up North for a week with family and upon my return, I was picked up at 9:45 in the evening in 97 degree weather in a vehicle with no air conditioning and a broken rear hatch (read here: I sat squished in the back seat with my kid and my bags in a muggy hot car). Though Roomie was excited to see me and Baby, we were already short with one another before we reached the parking lot attendant.

Saturday morning we decided to just "go and see". After a fluke fantastic test drive and making the hard decision to leave sans vehicle we spend the rest of the weekend loathing our car.

Monday morning? We left our Estelle at the dealership and came home with Estelle 2.0... whoa, girly, what a pretty car! Leather interior, double sun roof, opening trunk and A/C cold enough to give you goosebumps? We're a happy trio.

Another Goodbye

2009-07-18T22:06:00.005-04:00

I remember this feeling--the sinking sensation in my stomach, the rawness of emotion and the stinging in my eyes when I lose another friend. Not death, I remind myself... just moving away.

I can vividly remember all the good-byes I said growing up on account of my parent's military commitment. I remember there wasn't a single time it didn't hurt. I remember there was a quiet moment when I told myself I wouldn't let this continue to happen. But I married a military man. Moving was part of the lifestyle. Moving was part of the job. Moving was part of me.

We laughed that part of our prenuptial agreement was that he wasn't allowed to extend his commitment. "Six years", I said, "then out." We settled in the city where the military had brought him. We connected in our church, our jobs, in our education and with our community.

But before he had finished his required time, someone else had a new assignment. My best friend Nicole was celebrating her husband's new assignment: Florida. Well she should, I thought, Brandon had done exceedingly well in his educational program and was an instant pickup for a pilot program he had long wanted to be a part of. It just meant another move. She was ready. I wasn't. I was digging my heels down: hard. I was pregnant and so was she. Our babies were due only days apart and she had inspired me into my home delivery of Baby. But she was going to be miles away in Pensacola and I would remain here.

I thought me refusing to move another time would somehow keep all my friends around me. A natural part of life, however, is change. Growing up, getting married, having children... moving....

I said goodbye again tonight. This brought back the same intensity of hurt. This time, it was a friend who has loved me like a sister. We worked together, ran together, she baked Roomie's birthday cake, I hosted her wedding shower, she threw my baby shower... for nearly four years we've been together. This gentle grafting of our lives had been easy and sweet. She had loved me enough as a sister to tell me when I was out of line, to tell me I was beautiful on days that was only true perhaps on the inside, her parents had loved Roomie, Baby and I, and I knew this was going to hurt.

They came over for a short-notice dinner tonight and as they were leaving, I could already feel it washing over me: the stinging of my eyes, the slump of my shoulders and the sorrow that comes with another goodbye. The door shut and I brought Baby to bed, the exhaustion of all the attention from our friends was evident as it took mere moments before she was deep asleep, but for me... where there were butterflies earlier, there were knots now.

"Parting is such sweet sorrow"... what does that mean? Perhaps to have love, to have friendship, to be separated for a time and not for eternity; perhaps to have reciprocated sorrow...

As I forge onward, creating new friendships in the vacuum that was left when my friends have moved, I leave the very tender parts of my heart still looking, still waiting, still loving and waiting for their voices to ring with a cheerful, "hello!"

Robert Frost

2009-04-08T16:33:00.001-04:00

25 Pieces of Trivia

2009-03-31T13:17:00.002-04:00

I love lists, calendars, agendas, to dos…though I never follow them, I'm always late and I never read it.
I look for patterns: repeats in fabric prints, carpet, manufactured ceiling tiles, loops in music tracks, etc.
Occupations where I thought I would excel: restaurant critic, book editor, organic food co-op shop owner.
I love indie coffeehouse music that intros with cello. I also love celtic panpipe music.
I sometimes journal my dreams: I have 3-5 a night, full plot, color, sound, touch and taste sensation. I often need a moment to distinguish between my dream world and real world when I awake.
I have a recurring dream about skipping a biology class `and showing up on midterm day. Every time I have this dream I fumble through an excuse to why I haven't been to class in three months and I have to borrow a pen, because I came to class unprepared. (FYI: I took biology back 5+ years ago and scored a 95, so not sure what this about)
Pet peeves: when I lose a particularly good online resource (I think I bookmarked it and then it's not there… dang it de.lici.ous!, no wonder I switched to Diigo), when Bon Appétit interviews a fast food junkie for the contributor column and when Harris Teeter is out of halva.
I have (not-so-secret) ambitions of becoming an artist one day. If only I took the time to practice an art form and I actually didn't criticize myself before completion.
I love surprises (good ones, at least).
I have a crazy addiction to stationary. There is something entirely wholesome, delightful and exciting about receiving a handwritten letter from someone you love.
I always cry when:
~ watching Elinor Dashwood stutter at the end of Sense and Sensibility, "so then, you are not married?"
~ watching Independence Day and the First Lady dies and the president comes out and sits next to his daughter and she says, "Is Mommy sleeping now?"
~ at the end of Return of the Kings (Lord of the Rings) when King Aragorn walks over to Legolas and sees Arwen alive.
When I grow up, I want to be just like my mom.
I love pottery/earthenware/Apilco/Kutieya.
I like raw beets, juiced spinach and anything with Spike seasoning on it.
I always wanted to become a drummer and I just learned my brother apparently had the same dream.
I think camping is fantastic. I wish I could do it all the time… if only our car thought the same.
I have a knack for killing plants, no matter how hardy, how user-friendly, how old and established it is, I can make it suffer a long, slow death.
One day, Joshua and I want to own a Subaru Outback.
I have this fantasy about being an athlete: a raw-vegan-yogi-marathoning-triathlete. (Now, if only I could get my fanny out the door for a walk… I just need to pry the container of ice cream from my hand.)
I think my daughter is absolutely fantastic. (Can I say that?)
I wish my teeth were straighter.
I think putting items on my calendar automatically jinxes me from not having to do it.
For the first time, I have not planned my anniversary trip nine months in advance. I'm such a slacker.
I cannot stand forced alliteration marketing techniques: "Kwality Kuts" or "Katie's Kanine Kare" How are our children ever going to learn to spell things correctly?!
I'm launching an Etsy store this year… oh geez, did I just write that?

"I Just Wanted To Say...

2009-02-19T21:30:00.006-05:00

...I'm sorry."

Our relationship is only in passing and it is in more than just passing that I think of you. I can see the hurt in your eyes when you look at me. I know it is not personal, but I know that perhaps thinking about what I would say brings you pain.

I only heard it once. I was, as my husband calls it, 'skim-listening'. I was pregnant with Aoife and I didn't want to be overwhelmed with fear. Joshua and I were so careful to only hear positive birth stories so that we were thinking with absolute positivity when we went into labor. I heard part of your story though and it frightens me still. I can understand why you waited until nearly five months' pregnant to tell everyone you are now expecting bundle of joy #2. I can understand that you are shocked that God would bless you with another pregnancy and I can understand why you really do not want to talk about it.

I know we are not friends, but I saw you again yesterday and I know you saw me... just before you quickly ducked out the door. You already know what I'm going to say: it doesn't have to be this way. It doesn't. I did not feel like I had a voice to talk about natural childbirth before I had a babe because at the time it was all theory. I had a very large hunch that it would all work out according to plan, but what rebuttal was I to offer when you say, "what do you know?"... so I stayed silent. I had my babe naturally, non-violently, without intervention and peacefully at home. Now it almost seems worse. It almost would have had better had I spoken out of naivete and not known the possible outcomes. But now as a mother, my experience is lumped with all the others who have had natural, normal, spontaneous labor as being "lucky".

I want to tell you about my experience, how beautiful it was, how anxiously I waited for my daughter who came 28 days after we expected her, how nervous I was when 24 hours of laboring had passed and I still was not holding my child, how without the books I had read and the research I had poured over I would have been a bumbling nervous wreck of panic... just like most first-time moms get sometimes.

I was in a grocery store last week and a woman was making eyes at Aoife and she started conversation and basically said my daughter was huge and I told her that having been born at 10 lbs., she wasn't really going to ever be a small baby. She of course replied the natural societal response, "oh, Cesarean?" and I gave her this deadpan-I-get-this-a lot look and replied without batting an eye, "no - home birth". She was not shy about the way her mouth gaped open or how she stared unflinchingly at me as if to get me to tell her I was joking. She made a comment about how I was some super woman and I must be made of something more than flesh and blood. But, I'm not.

I feel as if I need to write a post and remind my friends and inform people who didn't know me pre-baby to tell them what an astounding hypochondriac I was. I had a ridiculously low pain tolerance and I survived high school by eating Skittles. I wasn't always so weird. I didn't plan to be some Mother Earth loving, tree-hugging, fair-trade health food toting, green guru. I just made some small changes that apparently made a huge difference in my life.

I'm not that different from you. I love my daughter like you love yours. I know you want the best for your family and you want health for your unborn child. You want them to respect you and trust you and you want to be able to pour all the love in your heart into their young life.

Amanda, my heart hurts for the situation you are in... I would love to talk with you about your upcoming delivery. Please call me.

The Toaster Deal

2009-01-22T17:25:00.004-05:00

Roomie and I made a deal.

If I orchestrated The Great Move, Roomie agreed that I could leave our cursed non-toasting toaster behind.

I got the toaster as a hand-me-down from my folks when I got married. No problem, I love second-hand stuff and I was grateful to have it. During the course of our four years at the apartment though, it finally reached its last leg. The little knobs on the bottom that determine how much toasting occurs, snapped off. The little trap doors on the bottom that released all the crumbly breadcrumb goodness, suddenly stopped opening, probably the fault of the preserves that have fallen from "on high" down the slot and have hardened on the bottom right near where the trigger release door opens (did I just write that?!). Not to mention the fact that it merely produces warm bread.

That was the last straw.

I love toasted bread (I'm going to recant this later on my green blog, because of the carcinogens that occur when you toast things… but pay no attention. I really do love things nice and browned, this is my blog, I can be frank here if I want). My toaster currently only toasts one side of bread, the other of which, is heated by default. Not good.

We are almost completely all done with The Great Move and Roomie hasn't mentioned my consolation prize. He said I could purchase a new one when next we are out in town and I see one I want. Fair enough, I thought.

But, it just so happened tonight that the bread that came out of my bread machine this evening seemed to be a little undercooked and was in desperate need of toasting… maybe we can get Roomie to take a drive with me tonight.

Photo credit: flickr - alwayschangingclothing

Inner-City Camping

2009-01-22T13:07:00.005-05:00

This last weekend, I was really suffering from cabin sickness. Aoife and I had been down with a cold since we moved in the previous weekend, which meant no going out and no visitors coming in. By the end of the week, Aoife and I were both ready for some time away from our new home.

So… we went camping. Friday had a high of 27 and Saturday had a high of 29 but that didn't stop us. We drove away from our comfy new apartment, went to our campsite, cleared the area and while Roomie chopped up kindling and started a fire, I started putting up our tent, brought out the sleeping bags and tried to locate where I stashed the s'more supply.

By the time Aoife awoke from her evening nap on Friday, we were all set up and she was watching the glow of her first fire. Roomie maintained the fire well into the evening and by the time we fell asleep in one little heap under the blankets we were snuggled warm with the campfire and filled to the brim with dark chocolate-graham cracker-marshmallow goodness. (Now before someone calls me out on it, yes, I ate real marshmallows. I was going to make a homemade batch but I couldn't find kosher gelatin at the market and we were in a fix, so it is probably the first official non-kosher food item I've had since before I got pregnant. At any rate, that isn't the point of this post, so leave it alone, already.)

We woke up and Roomie went off to the loo and to put his contacts in, I flipped the thermostat and started up the electric griddle and then we both started making our camping breakfast: organic spinach, free-range vegetarian-fed eggs (over medium), scalloped new potatoes and organic zucchini seasoned with cold-pressed olive oil and vegan Spike. WAIT! What?!

Yea, we cheated.
We had to pay rent until the middle of February and since we had this fantastic empty apartment and some camping equipment that needed to be aired out and a three day weekend to enjoy it… well, we set up camp in our living room off Holland Road. We heard the drag racers and the ambulance sirens, but it felt like a retreat into the mountains. We brought the laptop since we still have internet, but we had little else. The three of us jumped back into bed after our breakfast and enjoyed some serious family time.
Aoife thought the tent was fantastic and Roomie was really relieved that we finally got to test out the air-mattress that we bought ages ago for our guests. Me? I was just having fun with my favorite two people, both of which are apparently pyromaniacs and want to know if we are going again this weekend?

Communing with the Almighty

2009-01-20T22:28:00.000-05:00

Our place of worship celebrates communion once a month. I'm not sure how this all worked out exactly, but somehow this is the first communion I remember since the Baby was born. I likely was out nursing, or changing a diaper or trying to get her to sit still for the fourth hour of church… poor thing.

Perhaps for that reason alone, sitting with my daughter, I began to think about how she will process this event later and what I will say when she asks what I am doing and if she can do it too. As I sat in the back of our church this Sunday, teary eyed, holding my sleeping babe and thinking about Christ's sacrifice, I imagined the conversation going something like this:

"(whispering) Momma? What is that?"
"I'm partaking of Communion, Aoife."
"(still whispering) Why do we do that?"

"(deep breath) Not that long ago, God allowed himself to be a little child once, just like you. In his entire life, he never sinned. Yes, he cried when he stubbed his toe and his tummy rumbled when it was time to eat and he asked questions just like you do, but he did no wrong. When he grew up and was a little older than Momma and Daddy, he started teaching people about God the Father, because people had forgotten. One night he was having dinner with his friends and he took the bread and drink off the table and asked that people share a meal regularly in remembrance of Him: of His life and then of His death and resurrection (when He came back to life). People forget things quickly sometimes and Jesus wanted us and our families to always remember Him.

Would you like to share communion with Momma?"

photo credit: flickr - fuzuoko

Dragging along

2009-01-09T09:00:00.002-05:00

My heart is heavy. I have been taking down wall hangings and frames from our walls, packing our china and listlessly walking from room to room. We've signed our new lease on Tuesday and have a month to move and suddenly, my heart is sad. Aoife is bouncing in her doorway jumper just two feet from the very location she inhaled her first breath of air. It absolutely captures my heart watching her move. What sweet memories.

I remember feeling this way before... I was 13 and we were moving to Arizona. We lived in a suburb of Milwaukee that (in my adolescent mind) was idyllic. We lived in a huge brick house and I had a bedroom that was larger than I have since had in the last dozen years. I loved our church, my school, my friends and moving was going to be traumatic.

I've moved five times since then and have learned to let go of a lot of the attachment that remains with loving a place of habitat. Except now. Yes, I knew I wasn't going to live in this apartment forever. But this is where my life with Joshua began. This is where we brought our wedding shower gifts and where he first brought me home after our honeymoon. It was where my daughter was born. It was where we celebrated birthdays, anniversaries, promotions...

Roomie reminds me that this is our first move together. Before this, it was His stuff and Her stuff... now it's ours. Stuff from our travels, our wedding, our mutual tastes. We get to decide together how our new home will be pieced together. Roomie sat in our dining room (sans table) of the new place last night and as I stood unpacking spices, dishes, and boxes that just arrived from Turkey, we laughed about blunders in the old place (when my brother was living with us).

This start is new, and it's together... and I'm excited. Maybe we'll have Baby #2 in the new place... wouldn't that just be memorable?!

Unsettled

2009-01-06T12:10:00.002-05:00

Roomie, Baby and I drove over to the new apartment today. They gave us our keys and told us we could come back tomorrow to sign the lease since they weren't ready for us yet. "That's fine", I told them and ran back the car shaking the keys for my husband to see. Baby was asleep in the car so Roomie went in first to scope around and then I could run in.

When it was my turn, I ran up to the building (it was raining... oh the luck) and I instantly found that the key sticks in the door. I opened up and found that it had been freshly painted and had (relatively) new carpet.

"Nice", I thought.

I started walking through the space... smaller than I remembered, and it didn't have furniture in it yet. I paced through the rooms: "the hutch will go here... I don't think our couch will fit this, maybe over here against this wall instead?" In trying to figure out the bedroom layouts and how our things will best occupy them, I suddenly felt overwhelmed. "What are we doing?!" Oh, saving $500 a month was my left-brain's reply.

As I turned off the lights and walked back to the front to leave, I suddenly felt tired. So much work, so much effort all while offering stability for Aoife and consistent effort in school and in our normal home agenda.

This will be good, though. It will be a great community for us. Closer to school, church and our friends, this may be the change our life has been needing.

The nagging spirit in my heart came back: but it's smaller, it doesn't have Southern exposure, we loose a bathroom, a private kitchen and extra storage... this place doesn't even have a pool!

Maybe that doesn't matter this time around? We'll downsize and make room for our little family and then use this as an opportunity to springboard into the next chapter of our lives.

Now, about that front door key...

Aoife, I love the way you...

2009-01-04T19:44:00.003-05:00

laugh at how I sing "Singing in the Rain" while I'm showering.
look when you first rouse from your nap. Your soft blue eyes melt my heart.
lick your lips when you are done eating.
give me the "I love you" look.
lie in bed and watch me sleeping when you first wake in the morning.
always respond to my voice.
keep me company at night. Your breathing is so precious.
giggle when I nibble on your ribs and gum your arms.
enjoy Jane Austen films with me.
humor my attempts to tell you about the highlights in my Economist.
shake your head "no" when the answer is most surely "yes". It's completely comical.

Taking a Step Back

2008-12-17T22:45:00.000-05:00

I forgot how much I once enjoyed blogging.

I used to appreciate signing in and detailing out my thoughts. I liked being transparent, emotional and real. I liked staying up and listening to the keys putter out my ideas and little random musings. I really was quite fond of the opportunity to verbally process out my logic in this format.

Then one day I realized that the little link on the bottom of my email that took my friends to my blog was actually being used. Then, someone found my blog through Facebook, and there were people who I knew who actually read my wild musings that were posted in this open forum called the Internet. Imagine that!

I got scared... and in my own criticism-conscious mind, I started holding back. Maybe I was being influenced by some severe insecurities but for the most part I know that my bold out-spokeness on my natural pregnancy really affected some of my friendships. Would I have changed the way that I introduced Aoife to the world? Not for an instant. Should I have offered more grace and exuded more understanding to people who don't breathe in sync with me? Most definitely.

In the last couple of weeks, I have started really researching blog culture. I have found blogs that I can read all day and some where I cannot change the browser fast enough. The ones I love are the people who can be real, who can get online and say, "life isn't perfect and that's just fine, because I'm giving it everything I've got... here's where I am so far". I love that.

Aoife obviously survived my alternative birthing choices and I don't need to step forward to anyone and say "I told you so!"... the health of my daughter speaks for itself. I do, though, want to regain presence online even if I have lost the readers whom I had likely offended in my approach to pregnancy. As such, if I have lost them, they likely aren't returning here to search out an apology and I am likely free to return to my own mild musings.

In the meanwhile, however, I will be updating the look of the blog and changing the title to the Caileda Chronicles... and remembering who I am so I can be real again.

Photo credit: Flickr -kukkurovaca

Reasoning

2008-12-14T00:18:00.002-05:00

Let the "reason for the season" always be the birth of Jesus Christ. Focusing now on traditions that I want to instill in our home and things that I want to teach my daughter are apparent by where I place my emphasis. Am I more concerned with celebrating the birth of the Christ-child or in watching my favorite Christmas movies? Have I dedicated time to blessing others this holiday season? Am I teaching Aoife about the joys of giving?

Roomie and I have gotten a lot of "holiday" cards this year, but not very many "Christmas" cards. Rearing my daughter in a nation that widely celebrates Christmas (96%), I want her to be ever mindful of why we celebrate: not for Black Friday and Cyber Monday but in recognition that several hundred years ago, our Savior was born in the form of a baby. He came and lived a blameless life and died so that we might have life in eternity with him. Should she ever lose focus, I want her to remember every Christmas season that Jesus Christ is the reason we celebrate.

Mover's Remorse

2008-12-13T23:14:00.005-05:00

Roomie and I received our lease renewal notice last month and despite falling market prices and an economic recession, our management company seemed to not be aware and rose our rental rates higher still. So, after four years of comfy living at the beach, we started perusing some options.

One of the locations we really desired to move to was unavailable to us. There were requirements to be met that made us unqualified. Of course, I have always had a difficult time taking "no" for an answer, so I challenged the requirements and we submitted an application and a petition stating why we felt we were eligible.

We knew it was a long shot, but if we could get in, the monies saved from lowered rental costs would pay for an entire semester of school (really). We held our breath but kept looking elsewhere, knowing no other location would afford us the same unique placement as the one we were petitioning to enter. Then, we got the call...we were accepted, and could we move in January?

I called Roomie and we were both too elated for words. We drove by the property and our new apartment faced a small park and playground where Aoife could play. It was offset from the road so we would no longer be bothered by sirens and midnight drag-racers and other blissful noises that come with living in the city. We could not believe our great fortune.

Then, I woke up. Our southern-exposure apartment was flooded with morning light and I was laying in bed with my daughter, in the same room where she was born. I walked to the front of the house to fix a cup of tea and I was suddenly sad: this house held so many memories. We never intended to live in an apartment forever, but this place had a hold on my heart that none other had. This home was were my husband brought me after our honeymoon. It the first place either Roomie and I had ever had our names on the lease. In this living room was held Joshua's first birthday party of his twenty-something life.

We had held bridal showers, Bible studies, birthday parties, Christmas caroling soirees, Independence Day celebrations, and late night wine dinners. The efforts of my parents and Roomie were evident in every room--their painting talents colored the walls of my once boring white rooms. Most recent of which was the painting of Aoife's bathroom just ten months ago when my Mom came over from Turkey to help us get ready. I am still in awe of the color and the professional job she did.

There will be many things I will miss: the pool, the proximity to the park and downtown, our sweet little fireplace and our deck that once held an amazing full cord of wood that Roomie was faithful to chop and burn. I will miss the amazing amount of light that poured in all of our windows and gave our small space life. I will miss the beautiful Virginian trees that bloomed white in spring, turned red in autumn and shaded my deck in summer. I will miss the amazing staff that have always been so kind to us and quick to meet any and all requests. I will miss being able to look out my window and watch Roomie's car pull in from a long day at work.

And though it is only an apartment, this home has been the residence I have held the longest in my entire life. Which at just under four years, should show what incredible stability my life has been lacking. But for all of its joys and wonderful memories, I will not miss the rent!

Mac People

2008-11-21T14:20:00.003-05:00

I grew up with cassette players, then compact discs, mini-discs, MP3 players and then,... the iPod. The advent of which brought on a whole new gamut of technology. My daughter who is now five months will have no clue what video cassettes are or why I had a bulky DVD player to watch movies. The idea that I once owned a computer that filled a desktop and respective foot space for its processing unit will blow her mind. As I sit here typing on a slim laptop, which, when purchased was fairly good technology, will become a relic in only a few months. As the world turns and research is more readily available, so much will change in her world.

But, I sit here munching on my Macintosh apple knowing, rest assured, that when my daughter laughs at the mention of the archaic iPod and Apple computer, she will still recognize a quality baking apple when she sees one.

Official 1st Night Out

2008-11-20T21:40:00.001-05:00

I was giddy: almost like a high school student out on a school night. I was not planning to be gone long, Aoife has a cold and is not weaned yet, but the thought of dressing up and being on my own for an evening was just thrilling.

I dug my wallet and keys out of the diaper bag and found a purse, a pair of shoes that I do not normally wear when I am toting Aoife around and put in a little hairspray, mascara and lipstick and I was on my way.

Perhaps the oddest thing I found once I arrived to this birthday party that I was attending was that I almost didn't know what to do with myself. Usually I am holding my five month daughter and if I am not, my husband is and I am busily eating, drinking or quickly putting my hair up and preparing my nursing cover so that I can take her back. This time though, I sat in a little corner arm chair with my cup of chamomile tea balanced on my leg and though the cell phone was within view and poised to alert me that Aoife had woken, it did not draw my attention.

I was only up the street from my own home and in total, I was gone only 45 minutes, but it was refreshing. During my day, (evening and night, too!) my focus is on my daughter. As I am still learning the balance of motherhood, I am realizing that my needs are to be met also. The delightful thing of it all is I have surrounded myself with amazing women who are incredible mothers who would do anything for their children. Now if only I can find a way to spend more time with them...

Girls' Night In

2008-11-11T22:01:00.002-05:00

I was thinking about having a "girls' night in" party this weekend. My roommate is going out of town and it will just be the two of us girls partying at the house alone. Of course, when I think of a "girls' night in" party, I think of fun appetizers on little amuse bouche plates and swirling glasses with old vine Zinfandel. Perhaps a girly movie; a romantic comedy that is featured in black and white and requires the closed captioning feature. With the movie inevitably brings popcorn, so I'll have to find a big bowl suitable for that. Naturally, if it is a girly night there will be nail polish and facial masks and perhaps the occasional nose strip. Oh wait!
Aoife can't chew. She doesn't have teeth. I also wouldn't dare paint her nails or put a nose strip on her cute little button. Vino? Not happening. Movie? Perhaps, but that's only if she catches a sneak peek when she rolls over in bed, since she will likely be turning in at her recent bedtime of 5:45. Maybe I'll just celebrate my little girl by serving my dinner on white china and I'll toast my grape juice to my sweet daughter and hope my husband comes home quickly.

Chestnuts Roasting

2008-11-10T20:22:00.008-05:00

Is there anything more quintessentially autumnal than warm freshly roasted chestnuts? I used to eat fresh chestnuts at the autumn and winter festivals in Japan. Street vendors would sell them in little brown bags and they were so heartwarming. Sold for pocket coinage, they came already shelled and skinned and when you opened the little sack a little warm puff of nutty sweet air met you before you put your hand in.

There is an autumnal recipe I am in love with that I started making a couple of years ago for Thanksgiving. I found it again this season and it perfectly pairs apples, chestnuts, sausage and wild rice: it makes me want to special order Minnesota wild rice just to make it. At any rate, I usually find jarred chestnuts at the market to make the dish but recently there were large sacks of bulk fresh chestnuts: we bought them.

It has been getting cold recently and tonight I thought it would be so romantic to roast chestnuts with my roommate and listen to the Thanksgiving Song by George Winston as I begin the early drafts of my Thanksgiving menu. Aoife went down as soon as we got home and I could already smell them roasting in the oven. I won't lie: I was salivating.

I heard the timer go off and I bounded off to the kitchen. I'd never attempted roasting chestnuts in my oven before: the song says "chestnuts roasting over an open fire"... naturally, I deduced that was the only way to do it. As I read every page of December's Bon Appetit, I found a recipe for chestnuts with peppered honey as well as a very simple way to roast them in your oven. 'Life is short', I bemused...

And now I'm standing in front of my stove top, looking at the popped husks, revealing that sweet nutmeat underneath. Roomie has already started shelling one and though they are hot to the touch, with a bamboo tong set, I start peeling one as well. I've never had to peel my own, so when the shell was off and I was looking at the skin, I looked at Roomie and said, "now what?" Pushing the nut between my thumb and forefinger, it cracked again, and inside was an overcooked little chestnut. I took a bite, but it wasn't the flavor I remembered.

We started going through the pile, opening them up, first peeling the shells and then popping the skins but we noticed something: they were either overcooked or rotted. Nice, I thought. Not exactly what I had in mind. As it turns out, chestnuts are the highly perishable and the pretty dish they had been sitting in on my living room table wasn't the environment they needed to be preserved.

I was reading in my foodie encyclopedia yesterday about chestnuts and they have some surprising attributes: chestnuts have the highest water percentage of any other nut (52%, the only other one that comes close is the coconut at 51% all others are less than 10), they have the lowest protein and oil composition of any other nut and are remarkably high in carbohydrates. Harold McGee writes, "chestnuts are best kept covered and refrigerated, and should be eaten fairly quickly. If freshly gathered, however, they should be cured at room temperature for a few days. This improves the flavor by permitting some starch to be converted into sugar before the cells' metabolism is slowed down." Since the world's largest chestnut producers are China, Turkey, Korea and Italy, I'm going to go on a limb and suggest the nuts I bought at the market likely were not within their first couple of days of curing.

Luckily for me though... I recently had a run in with a chestnut tree, so my odds of trying this recipe again with absolutely fresh and local chestnuts has drastically increased.

Watch out, Roomie... that romantic night is coming.

Turkish To Do List

2008-11-09T19:51:00.003-05:00

For our holiday season this year, my roommate and I are taking our little "snuppy head" to the Mediterranean to see "Nanna and GrandDad". Of course there will be plenty of snow to be had, a double serving of Mom's Christmas Eve post-candlelight-service lasagna, a wonderful four part harmony round of caroling to of all of my parents' friends and then secretly, there will be my to-do list to accomplish:

Pick from a pomegranate tree
Buy fresh tahini (sesame seed butter) in a candy store
Purchase whole shelled walnuts from a street vendor
Eat ice cream off a pole
Visit a mosque
Ride a camel (the non-spitting variety)
Walk somewhere the Apostle Paul walked
Buy a pashmina tablecloth
Take a photo of a Turkish woman oogling over Aoife
Eat lamb

"Baby Bashers"

2008-08-31T16:10:00.004-04:00

There seems to be an epidemic in our society of people inflicted with a virus of hatred toward children. My husband and I stand in position of direct opposition: we love children. When we were pregnant, we heard so much negativity about carrying a child and what to expect when you are laboring. When we were laboring, I had to mentally block all those things from my memory so that I could focus on a positive birthing experience, which I (incorrectly) assumed was the pinnacle of my woes. Not so.

My daughter is now ten weeks old and I am just starting the climb up a perilous mountain of discouraging comments. I understand in any circumstance there will be individuals with commentary that doesn't sit right with you. Perhaps the most surprising element for me is the source of this negativism: my pastors.

Recently, my husband gave testimony at our church about our miraculous home birthing experience and the healthful birth of our 10 lb. baby. Just after that, our pastor rose to the pulpit to speak... and he did: about poop and puke and about our amazing "bowling ball".

The following week we were attending a new service and we came in contact with our children's pastor who firmly reminded us three times that if our child becomes louder than the activity on the stage we had to take her to the nursery and be in their care (I'm sure removing myself from the sanctuary would have sufficed, but it wasn't mentioned as an option). At the very least, I was offended that my church would stifle the sounds of "infants and babes" but also that they would suggest separating a nursing child from her mother. It just seems rude.

The "C" Closet

2008-08-26T12:18:00.003-04:00

When my father first moved to Turkey, he did so alone as my mom was completing an intensive mathematics courseload at the local university near their last duty station. As this was my father's first time relocating alone, he organized the home in what way seemed best to him, which included a couple of (what my mother and I would call) abnormalities. The most standout of these was the "C" closet in which my father put items he could not find other locations for and that began with the letter "C". When my mom reached Turkey, she would ask for the locations of some items and he would reply: "It's in the C closet". What makes this all the better, is this closet was located in the bathroom. Below are some of my favorites:

cupcake holders
cast iron skillet
canned corn
candles
cookbooks
cleaning products
cordless phone
cell phone charger
coin change
canker sore medication
curry mix

Renopunce

2008-06-03T15:10:00.002-04:00

(v.) to remove a statement made over one's life (e.g. "I renopunce that!")

... That's what makes the world go round

2008-06-02T15:41:00.003-04:00

There is a song in my head which explains perfectly how I feel right now. We are eight days past the due date of our first child. The amount of people, especially that I have not spoken to in years, who want to know when we plan to induce has been overwhelming. First, let me clarify: my husband and I are planning a home birth, attended by midwife. Inducing is not an option.

Secondly, only 5% of non-induced natural childbirths actually occur on their due date. Which means, the delivery date is not likely be the one circled on your calendar.

For all the early babies that are born full term (anything after 37 weeks), but not yet at their estimated due date, "hello, I am your counter-balance". I am successfully and healthfully enjoying my 41st week of pregnancy. No hypertension, diabetes, edema, preclampsia, I sleep like a baby and have minimal stretch marks. My weight gain is dead on for where my midwife wanted me and I am happy to report the baby eats like a tapeworm.

I am absolutely delighted that my baby is late: that he is comfortable enough to be rooming in and getting chubby as long as he has. I am also completely happy that if someone has to be the statistic that balances all those early term births, that is is me. I have loved being pregnant and further enjoyed not having a "typical" pregnancy... it has been wonderful and I have really and truly relished every moment of it. I am glad to be the alternative to the other experiences I have heard of recently.

It's the up and down, in and out that makes the world go round...

Ode to Fathers

2008-06-02T15:26:00.001-04:00

"Dad is great. Give us the chocolate cake!" http://youtube.com/watch?v=8cfn0q5K5eU

Chameleonic

2008-06-02T15:11:00.001-04:00

(adj.) to blend in, as a chameleon ("I was really surprised by the chameleonic nature of his outfit.")

Mandolinize

2008-06-02T15:07:00.002-04:00

(v.) to effectively and quickly slice something with the mandolin. (e.g. "Would you like me to mandolinize the cucumbers for your salad?")

Quick Rant... on "Compliments"

2008-04-15T12:35:00.003-04:00

Alright. I'm ticked.

I work at a university with a rather healthy international population. I have several friends in that populous, but there are also scads of people I don't know... who deem is necessary to tell me how they think my pregnancy is progressing.

I am not sure if these are compliments in their home country, but they are not necessary comments in ours:

"You look big."

"Were you planning on gaining that much weight?"

"Was this baby a surprise?"

and my personal favorite: ""Oh... you're having a baby. (duh) Are you having twins? In my country, if women are your size they are having two babies!"

Perhaps in their country they do not have the expression: "If you can't say anything nice... don't say anything at all."

Birthing Philosophy

2008-03-27T12:59:00.004-04:00

Below is outlined the basic outlines of our birthing philosophy:

We believe in Dr. Grantly Dick-Read’s philosophy of fearless childbirth. We believe that fear causes additional pain from the constricting of blood vessels through the fearful “fight or flight” syndrome of the Central Nervous System and that with a thorough knowledge of events and apt preparation, a woman does not need to fear childbirth and delivery.

We believe in Dr. Robert Bradley’s philosophy of husband-coached childbirth. We believe the best person to coach and deliver our child is the one who has been with me throughout the duration of my pregnancy and has taught me true relaxation through constant devotion, love and attention.

We believe in Dr. Thomas Verny’s philosophy of pre-natal psychology. We believe our child can hear, learn, remember and respond to my emotions, my actions and my words as well as those who surround me and my interactions with them.

We believe in Dr. Frederick Leboyer’s philosophy of a “birth without violence”. We believe children should be born in an environment that is similar to the one in which they have been residing for their gestational growth: quiet, dimly lit, warm, wet, inviting and full of joy and hope.

We believe in true natural pregnancy and natural childbirth is the best healthful choice for our child. On the surface, we believe that involves: no medications during pregnancy (even antacids), non-intrusive doctor visits, and a non-medicated, non-induced, no-AROM, non-surgical vaginal delivery without intervention.

We believe in the wrongful translation of the King James’ Bible and all subsequent versions that translate Genesis 3:16 as a “Curse on Eve” as pointed out by Supernatural Childbirth, Christ-Centered Childbirth, Lord of the Birth, Dr. Sear’s Pregnancy Book, Dr. Sear’s Birth Book, Hypnobirthing, and Husband-Coached Childbirth, among others. We believe the Bible’s correct translation labels Eve’s childbirth as requiring labor and hard work, but that it is not in sorrow and not in pain.

We believe that Jesus took ALL our infirmities to the cross, and any possible “curse” that could have been placed on Eve was taken on Christ’s shoulders when he was crucified and that we now live lives that are able to be without pain and fear.

We believe that ultrasounds are not aptly tested and have probability of being harmful to a growing fetus.

We believe that cutting of the umbilical cord should not be done until the cord has atrophied and all fluids have been exchanged between child and placenta.

We believe contractions prior to labor are healthy and are a positive sign that the muscles are learning how to properly function when it is time to deliver the baby.

We believe that the woman “delivers” the baby and the husband or caregiver’s role is to “receive” the baby.

We believe food consumption during labor is healthy and recommended as it is a physical activity that requires energy to be sustained.

We believe in "kangaroo-care" and immediate skin-to-skin contact from mother to baby after the baby is first born as the best way to warm, connect and soothe the baby.

We believe in immediate breast-feeding after birth of the baby to initiate uterine contractions to expel the placenta naturally.

We believe in non-interrupted bonding immediately post-partum. We believe the baby should not leave the arms of his parent for the several hours following birth and should not leave the room of the parents' presence for the first several days in order to maximize bonding and encourage parental identity with the child.

We believe home birth is the safest, healthiest environment for the birth of our first child.

and finally:

We believe that pregnancy is a healthy reproduction of life and that is a natural, normal experience and that it should not be treated as a disease, handicap or that somehow our bodies are not able to function perfectly as our Creator designed them to. We believe God designed the womb intentionally and with great purpose and the womb's function is fulfilled through childbirth.

Crossing the Line

2008-03-27T12:31:00.003-04:00

A line was crossed last night.

And again this morning. But not again.

I have been enjoying my pregnancy in silence. Opinions and research I would have longed to have shared have not been expressed for a few simple reasons: I did not want to offend, nor hurt anyone with a traumatic, difficult or otherwise negative birthing experience. And I want to begin this post and subsequent posts with this statement to those individuals:

I am sorry. I am sorry that you had to endure hardship; that perhaps your birthing experience was perhaps not as you planned or dreamed it to be. I am sorry that you had to sacrifice of yourself by raw, pained and emotions plagued by fear and physical scarring for such a situation. I am sorry that perhaps the experience you endured was so distressing that you have now vowed that “one is enough” and you no longer wish to ever be pregnant again. I am sorry that you may have received information or had decisions made from your doctor, attending nurse or other caregiver that instead of benefiting you and your forthcoming child, benefited their own pockets, their insurance policy or the overhead of the hospital. I am deeply sorry if the experience you have lived through caused you to be separated from your child, your spouse, your family and thus diminished bonding moments that will never be achieved again. I am even more increasingly sorrowful for those whose experience was so poor and ended as such that they lost their child. My heart mourns on this side of eternity with you.

For anyone who has asked, I have been free with my intentions in pregnancy, labor and birth. I have not posted them online however, as I have become increasingly aware that my blogging of “random musings into cyberspace” have readers. These readers are my friends, their coworkers and people who perhaps aimlessly find me through a Google search. With a personal history of being less than tactful and acting less out of grace and compassion than is more than duly necessary at times, I have erred on the side of caution and remained silent. However, for the first time in my pregnancy (all 31 weeks of it), a line was crossed that I had not even approached yet:

I felt fear.

This afternoon as I sit here and write this, I am angry. I should never have let the lies that led me to that fear enter my mind. Joshua and I have been adamant from the moment we began discussing children to keep a “fear-less” perspective. So I want to detail out my birthing philosophy. I want to post it on the internet and I want to act in faith, a faith that believes that “perfect love casts out fear” (I John 4:18, NAS) and that fear was not given us by God, but instead a spirit of “power, and of love, and of a sound mind” (II Timothy 1:7, KJV).

Today ends the silence.

Today begins the research, the opinions and the conclusions that I have drawn and have been desperately wanting to share: with my friends considering children, my friends who are pregnant who are considering natural childbirth and those who have been looking for another option... I want to offer that point of view. I thought that I was supposed to wait until I experienced it, so that in some way, my opinions would be more validated, but I am realizing I need to verbalize these things to help me make my own birthing experience positive. My birthing "worldview" is not for everyone and I recommend taking it with a grain of salt. The decisions I have made and the conclusions my husband and I have drawn for this pregnancy (and hopefully subsequent ones) are the result of study, research and much interaction with the local natural birthing community and their respected resources. I did not come to these decisions lightly, nor should I expect you to. Please come and go as you please on my blog... and realize that most of what I will write in the days preceding the birth of our first child is reaffirmation of that which I will need to assist me during this process.

A New Season

2008-03-14T12:35:00.003-04:00

In six days, spring equinox arrives.

My house has been spring cleaned: filters changed, vents washed, vacuum cleaner serviced, cupboards emptied and wiped out, linens rotated, winter clothes laundered and put in space bags for storage, jackets dry cleaned, base boards cleaned and curtains removed, laundered and windows washed. We went through the storage shed and donated items we do not use or want, we labeled storage bins and wiped down the vinyl siding on our apartment. We planted fresh flowers, herbs and repotted bulbs for spring. We cleaned out our file cabinets from 2007 and prepared for a "paperless" year of online billing and e-statements. We repainted our second bathroom and made for a fresh approach in this new season of our lives: our little one will soon be here, and though frantic cleaning will no longer ensue, we are still preparing our hearts and our minds for the room that will be made to accommodate this life that will transform us.

Wintery Bliss

2007-12-04T19:35:00.000-05:00

I am from the North.
The don't-forget-your-flannel-underpants North. The don't-go-outside-with-wet-hair North. The snowing-but-no-snow-days North.

I miss it.

I have lived in the southwest where I actually wore a summer sun dress on Christmas Sunday. I have lived in the south where I went for a dip in our hot tub in the backyard in the dead of winter and didn't notice I forgot my towel. I have lived on the east coast where we got dismissed from work because there was a forecast of "light flurries" and panic ensued.

As Christmas beckons closer... I am praying for a blizzard: white fluffy drifts on the side of our wood pile and something to actually get a sniffle over. I want frosted window panes and a reason to have tall winter boots and ski jackets with triple thermal layering. I want to tromp out in the snow when I go caroling and an exhilaration when I come back inside for hot chocolate and roasted chestnuts. I love the stillness of snow. The world is so still when it snows.

When I was growing up, for a short while we lived in this house that had an observation-sized bay window that faced our street. The street was broad and had a median and a single streetlight. Late in the evening, I would sit on the couch and watch out the window as the snow fell in the cast light of our street and I would wait with bated breath just watching the snowflakes fill the earth. The fireplace would be crackling behind me and somewhere from the library George Winston was playing "Peace" and that's all I felt: peace.

Now if I could only recreate that in Virginia. Where are those flannel underpants, anyway?

Saving Face

2007-12-04T19:20:00.000-05:00

Alright. I'm going to start this with a disclaimer: I understand that sometimes we say things inadvertently and we have to eat our words. There is a time and a place for this. Below is not one of them.

My husband did an interview in the middle of last week. As humbly as one can say this: the company loved him. Only hours after his interview did they call him back with a job offer. The job unfortunately revealed itself in the interview as not being right for our family. When the human resources director called with the offer, my husband politely declined, but thanked them for their time and the opportunity.

A couple of days later, we went to check our mail and there was a letter from the company: "Dear Sir, Thank you for your recent interview, however we felt your credentials were not sufficient for this position and will keep your application on file for one year but will not be extending an offer to you at this time."

We laughed out loud and threw the letter in the garbage before we got back to our apartment.

What a hoot.

Brand Junkie

2007-11-27T20:04:00.000-05:00

I tend to get in a rut about where I shop. I lean toward certain vendors, particular establishments, and well... companies that I'm just in adoration of. Let me give you an example.

Situation #1:

Today my husband called and said he needed fuel for his car and since he left his debit card at the Chinese takeout place in the San Antonio airport and has since closed all of his accounts, wouldn't I be so gracious as to lend him my card? I only carry around a driver's license and a debit card, so I led him to where my credit card was safely stowed away in our hurricane box. He called 20 minutes later saying that the card had been cancelled and in my spare time couldn't I call over to the bank and see why all of our accounts had been frozen? As a very obliging personality (not really, but my husband never reads my blogs...) I called over to our bank: USAA Federal Savings Bank. [Please note as a special aside that when I was studying Organizational Leadership and Management for my undergraduate degree we did a research piece on a particular company that was featured in the Harvard Business School Press journal on the topic of knowledge management and information sharing and excellent customer service. The company? USAA Federal Savings Bank. ]

The phone rang once and a middle-aged woman answered the line and I gave her my information and I told her I was concerned about my credit card being cancelled, etc. etc. I returned to the work at my desk and within ten minutes she returns to tell me that she is FedEx-ing my new credit cards (both mine and my husband's) next day and that the debit card that my husband had ordered last week should have been delivered this morning and could she help me further? Let's just say I wanted to send her some flowers. I've dealt with difficult banks, federal credit unions, financial institutions looking for a quick buck and a reasonable excuse to keep you from withdrawing your money. I have never had a negative experience with this bank. For that very reason, we use them for all of our banking, investment, insurance and auto rental needs. They have my unswerving devotion.

Situation #2:

I love Kitchen Aid. I have this ridiculous draw to small appliances that I cannot explain. From my blender to my coffee grinder to my food processor, they all share that sweet little stainless steel label: Kitchen Aid. For my birthday this year, my parents blessed me with a mixer. Joshua has declared for years that I do not need one, that his arm is strong enough for anything that needs mixing, kneeding, blending, whipping or stirring. I entirely agree, but again, I love small appliances. The first thing I made with my new mixer were these ridiculously disgusting "health" carrot-ginger-nut muffins that were supposed to miraculously cure my morning sickness. Well, they didn't. But I enjoyed the blending process anyway. Last week I got inspired to make gingerbread cookies. Of course, muffin batter is quite different from the shortening, molasses, 7 cups of flour concoction that comes with gingerbread cookies. My poor little mixer starting freaking out (as if appliances could do this) and even in the "lock" position, it started moving around and the motor really sounded like it was struggling... and I only had put in 4 cups of flour.

I called Amazon.com this afternoon and said, "yes I understand it's been 30 days since I received this gift, and I would like to keep the product, I just would prefer an exchange as the item I received seems to be defective". The lady I spoke with was exceedingly kind of it being the holiday rush season, she placed me on hold and when she came back she said they had another of my model in stock and that it was being sent tomorrow and that I could wait to inspect it before I sent the model I had and that she hoped I enjoyed making gingerbread cookies with this new model.

This holiday season, I don't know where I would be without them.

Missing Nanna B.

2007-11-19T13:32:00.001-05:00

There is something about coming into the holiday season that makes me sad. Pensive, introspective, quiet, withdrawn. I don't know if it has to do with all the memories that are gone and nearly faded or of the people I no longer share my life with. This year looks to be immeasurably harder than most as Joshua and I are expecting our first child and the one I would long to share the delightful news with, it not here to share in the joy.

Joshua lost his maternal grandmother last year and last season as he detailed her holiday habits and those things he would miss, the longing in my heart was so much more quickened. My maternal grandmother left over half my lifetime ago, but she breathes near me always. When I graduated from high school, when I got married, when I found out I was expecting... wouldn't she be jubilant? I have those contented memories of eating blackberries in Massachusetts, walking along the rocks in Martha's Vineyard and Cape Cod, and walking through the arboretum in Milwaukee. Though mostly those memories came from looking through picture books in my late youth.

But, I remember canning tomatoes, and the large containers of pickling cukes and a house-filled with the aromatics of dill and fresh garlic that came from old time-tested recipes. I remember visiting during the summer and staying in her guest suite in the dark, cool basement, tip-toeing past my parent's bed and up the shag-carpeted stairs to where Nanna was drinking her early morning coffee and reading the paper. She would set me up at the table with a bowl of cereal and milk that she bought just for us and a freshly dealt hand of cards. We played rummy mostly, and she was brilliant... I was, as a Northerner might say: "slower than molasses in January". We played in the kitchen, the porch, on the deck next to the climbing hibiscus flowers in the shadow of the huge "grandfather tree" whose limbs were low and large enough to climb on.

I wonder if now, "all grown up" and soon to have a family of my own, if she would be proud of me. If she would come to visit and hold my children the way she held me. If she would put up with Joshua's slow card dealing and if she would be my partner while playing Spades. I wonder whether she would like the way I modified her monster cookie recipe and how I never forget to make her spinach balls at Christmas and potato ana at Thanksgiving. I wonder if she would tell me how proud she was of my Mom and her tenacity to finish her classes. I wonder if she would like the wedding china I picked out that reminds me of her Christmas set. I wonder if she would notice that I love wearing scarfs the way the Russian babushkas do, because it reminds me of her. Or perhaps she saw me get married and saw the vase of white tulips set in memory of her?

I'll likely never know these answers or the thousands more that pulse through my mind when I smell that faint smell of lilac and lavender, but I know that this Thanksgiving and Christmas, when my demeanor gets quiet and the tears form, I'll think of all the years my children will get with their grandparents and all the memories they will form together and what a joy it will be.

Market Moodiness

2007-11-07T12:46:00.002-05:00

[Let me just start with this cute little disclaimer: I live in possibly the most outrageously over-priced market on the Eastern Seaboard.]

As Joshua and I begin our search for a place to call home for our new family we have run into the most ridiculous dilemma: You can no longer purchase a home for a reasonable amount of money.

My parents purchased their first home for $40k. I think that's about the price of a nice car these days. It was a sweet cottage-style home with an apple tree in the back yard and wild lilacs. It had a two car garage and 5 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, and basement large enough to roller-skate in. It was a midwestern home with a strong foundation and large enough backyard to plant a garden with raised beds.

Where we live, you can't buy a trailer for one hundred thousand dollars more than that.

Our rental lease is due for renewal in February and so the discussion is again brought to the table: how long should we rent? How long do we want to live in Virginia? Where do we ultimately want to rear a family? How much are we willing to pay for a home?

With the current market volatility and increasing difficulty to secure a home loan, maybe our bank will make the decision for us, but I still dream about a beautiful stone home that has a backyard sufficent for our garden: a place Aoife can learn firsthand about organic, sustainable and local.

Too Chic for Chuck?

2007-11-06T19:02:00.000-05:00

So... I'm online browsing for maternity wear, sending links to my best friend (who is a mere 10 days more pregnant than I) of uber cute formal dresses and shirts that accent our little wondrous upcoming bump and I find these shoes.

Mind you, I love Chuck Taylor. I got my first pair of "chuckies" when I was in eighth grade and I am sure they were the only things I wore. They were navy blue canvas and the most comfortable things to wear in those Midwestern summers in Milwaukee. I think it was later in high school when I got a pair that was plaid and made of wool. I loved them. I'm not sure one can love shoes, especially of the tennis-shoe variety, but these had affectionate attachments made to them. I wore them until holes had generated in the woolen fabric outside the shoe on the heels and outside my pinkie toes. Sadly, one day I washed them and that sweet wool shrunk right down to beyond my ability to wear them. With such a heavy heart, they finally were moved to my closet from the front doorway...never to see the light of day again.

My husband bought me a pair when we were dating. Dark brown canvas, smelling like fresh rubber and reminding of walking home from middle school with crunchy leaves underfoot. Unfortunately he overestimated my shoe size and had to be returned. I never got around to figuring out what my "boy" shoe size was so I could get another pair.

But fast forward and here I am searching on Gap Maternity and I come across these shoes. No laces, but stretchy elastic for those stubborn swelling pregnant feet. I'm in love. They are in autumnal colored canvas and that bright white that only back-to-school shoppers can love. I immediately jump onto the official Chuck Taylor website to find the shoe and what do you know? They are a Gap.com exclusive. Fair enough.

I send the link to Nic to which I'm sure during the duration of our relationship, the most casual footwear I have ever worn were my Birkenstock clogs that I wear occasionally when we are tromping around leaves in the fall and I know who has never seen me in a pair of "lo-tops", but I figured we were close enough to share such affections, comments: "aren't you kinda too chic for those?"

TOO CHIC FOR CHUCK TAYLOR SHOES?!

Can there be such a thing?

Being Pregnant

2007-11-06T17:13:00.000-05:00

There is a fabulous phenomenon with being pregnant. First of all, it's a blessing to harbor a little life inside your body and to know that God is creating a brand new being from within you. It is a reminder to me every moment of the day that my life is not my own. I am constantly aware of how my actions affect the inside of the womb. Whether it be the pickled okra I ate when I got out of bed last night, or the heightened stress from bumper-to-bumper traffic on my way to the OB, or just the amount of time I stay sitting at my desk, there is no escaping the baby's absorption of my life.

Now of course, there is the other side of pregnancy, which we'll call the "lesser glamorous side". Which equates to driving to the grocery store in sweat pants and an old alumni college sweatshirt, Birkenstock clogs and RED SOCKS. [Oh yea... they were comfy and clean and they didn't rub against my ankle, so I wore them. I am not sure why one owns red socks, but I know I got mine at a cute little retailer in Hakkodate, Japan and they have fun yellow stars on them.] The Lesser Glamorous Side also means being late to work because you couldn't convince yourself that breakfast was most delicious the first time.

It also equates to a whole new level of razzing, of which I'm not quite sure where people come up with this stuff. The moment I told people that Joshua and I were expecting, the whole slew of questions came out, the worst of which I dare not repeat but it made me aware of people's lack of understanding in God's greater design. On one particularly rough day after absorbing more than a "fair" share of hurtful comments, a maternal co-worker told me: "just ignore comments that come from ignorance". Though it seemed basic, it has taken me three weeks to adopt it as my own and understand its application.

With only a mere 10 weeks under my belt (pun intended), the learning curve is quick but I'm happy to be along for the ride. Now if only I could convince my breakfast to hang in there with me...

Picking Color

2007-11-01T14:48:00.000-04:00

So, the great search begins.

It appears that our little "love nest" won't be able to fit the "three of us" so we have begun our search for a home. Of course, for me that begs the question... what colors will you use? I figure that's a logical question, because before you can move in you need to know colors, as colors set the tone for your living spaces. Will you use cooler tones to make a relaxed atmosphere, or brighter shades to draw attention and to excite or warm colors to invite and envelop? Well... it turns out we didn't change a whole lot from our apartment currently, just brought the shades all down one notch and into one cooler tone range...which means we are still a contemporary neutral-natural household. What else would you expect from the Davis'?

Of course, there was one new room to add to the color wheel and as Joshua and I have decided we do not want to know the gender of our firstborn, we have gone with a green and brown palate for the nursery. We hope the layout and tone will be much like the above photograph: clean, minimalistic and simple. I mean, babies shouldn't need much beyond that, right?

A Month of Silence

2007-10-30T13:31:00.001-04:00

For the first time ever, I completely abstained from Blogspot for more than a week... four to be exact. I have had so much on my plate and secrets to great to keep, I knew I couldn't post online without leaking the word somehow.

As Joshua is doing multiple interviews daily and things are finally settling down for me and we are beginning the third month, I suppose its safe to blast on the internet that JOSHUA AND I ARE HAVING A BABY!!

And for all of those people who silently read my blogs and never post a comment... I think now is a fine time to start! :D

Pumpkin Season Begins Tomorrow!

2007-09-30T21:16:00.001-04:00

I LOVE Autumn. When it is cool outside, the fire is crackling, there is warm spiced cider, chai, or gluhwein on the stovetop and fresh bread in the oven, when it becomes officially sweater weather and you can see your breath when you leave the house for work in the morning, I'm in heaven.

Tomorrow's my birthday and the first day of pumpkin harvest season. How excited am I to finally get FRESH pumpkin?! YAY!

Just in Case...

2007-09-27T12:00:00.001-04:00

... you didn't hear me screaming: Joshua has been approved for an early separation from the military. We can finally start our civilian lives together without scheduling in duty days, underways, deployments, sea trials, fast cruise, etc. We can now be full time students, with regular jobs that don't require holidays, weekends, mandatory overtime and unsanitary and unsafe working conditions. We can safely celebrate our anniversary, our birthdays and seemingly trite holidays (ie Valentine's Day) with the full peace of mind that he will actually be home to celebrate them.

After 2101 days of painful servitude, Joshua will turn in his radiation detector and say "so long" to the wretched USS Homewrecker!!

Shiver Your Timbers!

2007-09-19T14:11:00.000-04:00

Yes, it is in fact International Talk Like a Pirate Day. Where do people come up with this stuff? Apparently two dorky guys decided this was a good way to celebrate their infernal geekiness and show up the likes of Johnny Depp, I mean, Captain Jack Sparrow, and show their pride for the eye patch, run and pegleg. Yes, they really do have a website and they really are on Wikipedia. Which, by all my extensive research means they are official and should be highly regarded by the rest of us, you know, civil society.

Had I known today was ITLAPD, I would have worn my hook, my stripped shirt and the most gargantuan captain hat I can find. Of course, a handkerchief underneath that three pointed hat was mandatory so lest we ruin the outfit by leaving that out I will need to remind the rest of you that it needs to be worn, tattered and smell like the high seas and faintly of rum.

So before the day is over, make sure you make like a pirate and say something ridiculous with the best accent you can manage.

Remembering my Eulogy

2007-09-18T21:15:00.000-04:00

Last autumn I wrote my eulogy for class. It seemed morbid at the time but as I sat in my auto driving home from the pool I heard a song on classical radio that would remind me of something one would hear sung over the casket in memory of a lost one. I began to reevaluate what I wrote in that paper and how poignant it was at the time, how much it caused me to evaluate my actions and behaviors toward people and thus, how I would want to be remembered.

I wrote three characteristics about myself that I thought stuck at the core of who I am. I wrote about my relationship with Christ and how I reared my children in His shadow. I wrote about the Davi Open Door... anyone was welcome, anytime for a bed or a meal and that we had many stories to share on account of that policy. I wrote about how every circumstance and setting was an opportunity to learn and to share about experiences that helped me grow. I wrote about how I was honest, sometimes brutally so. I could share my heart, bare my soul or tell one honestly "yes, that dress does look good on you". I wrote about my children by name and talked of how they emulated a few characteristics in seeking wholesomeness and openness in which I would encourage them daily.

I poured out my heart and added quotes from books I was inspired by and used verses that served as my staples through my journey. I addressed all the common tales of eulogies, but somehow only received a B. Perhaps this year I should try it again. Perhaps now I know myself better.

A Moment of Silence

2007-09-15T21:46:00.000-04:00

There should be a moment of silence everywhere for bearing exciting news and having it fall on unexcited ears. It is like that beautiful sunrise nobody sees or that sunset that gives you a warm chill but that you can't describe to anyone else.

I have this thought, this idea, this passion that I cannot detail and cannot relate, but desperately wish I could convey the excitement of, but to no avail.

Here comes the sunrise... alone.

Excitement!

2007-09-14T12:44:00.001-04:00

It never fails. Just when you decide that life is yes finally slowing down, something happens. It's like watching the ocean's waves. You watch all the sand and sediments settle and then another wave comes and kicks it all back up again. I was just settling into a nice relaxing, low-key weekend where I had already decided things would be routine when a girlfriend calls. Oh so exciting! Here comes the wave: CRASH!

Summer in September or Indian Summer on Indian River

2007-09-13T08:47:00.000-04:00

Summer is not my favorite. I've already written my Salutation to Summer and summer is still here. Now what?

Today is September 13th and the temperature is supposed to be in the mid-eighties. What gives? I am terribly fond of autumn and it is due to arrive in a mere 10 days, but alas, nothing. Just a blazing hot sun, wretched humidity, a car with no air conditioning and a dejected glance toward my sweater chest and all my favorite corduroy and wool skirts.

I work at Regent University on Indian River road and apparently they are still advertising summery photographs on their website. I feel like I'm experiencing Groundhog Day or the winter that would never end for the children of Narnia. In any regard, I feel like I'm being cheated of my favorite season as winter will inevitably come and Christmas will require I remove all my autumnal decor.

I have decided to take a stand and transform my home from fresh summertime colors to my harvest tones that help me feel as if I have arrived to that hallowed time of year. Feel free to stop by and get spiced cider and pumpkin bread, just remember your sweater, for I have turned my A/C down to mid-sixties to imitate the season. Let fall come!

Sign of the Times

2007-09-12T16:33:00.001-04:00

Ready for a sign of the times?

My twenty-year old brother who can't remember to brush his teeth or do laundry at least once a month wanted to know how hard it was to buy a house. Mind you, Joshua and I just moved him into his first apartment this last weekend. He's never really been on his own before, no lease, no utilities in his name and he's never had a credit card but he figures it should be no biggy to buy a house.

If the sub-prime lending industry crash was any indication of the loan industry's ability to judge who can purchase and maintain a home then perhaps we have much to learn before we go through another economic housing crisis.

People: be scared. Be very afraid.

Sabbath

2007-09-12T14:53:00.000-04:00

A friend of mine reminded me a while back about the importance of rest. It was confirmed the next semester when Joshua and I took a spiritual formation course together for our shared major and the main text was writing to individuals who do not spend enough time in repose. Life has its ways of speeding up until you either get caught speeding or you crash. I hope to be the earlier category, as I would rather be reminded than reprimanded.

Joshua and I have started observing one day of rest, a day of nothing. No business, no bills, no house work, no family issues, just kicking back and relaxing. This last week, Joshua worked through the weekend, but I was reminded of this concept and though we had moved my brother into his new apartment and had a slew of messes to pick up and reorganize, I spend the day in repose. I put Michael Becker in the stereo, lit a couple aromatherapy candles and enjoyed reading the August magazines I didn't get to pour over. Monday came, as it always does, a little too quickly, but I was rested and had found time to smell the flowers and trim back my rosemary plant and take time for me. As I loaded up my computer, I found a new email from a company I get daily quotes from and it said:

"How beautiful it is to do nothing, and then rest afterward" — Spanish proverb

I couldn't agree more.

And now, a word from our sponsors...

2007-09-12T14:03:00.000-04:00

Here is comes: my big plug for recycling.

I have a girlfriend from California who is neurotic about recycling. Joshua and I held a study in her home and when we were eating and laughing she would be furiously gathering the Coke cans together and making sure we didn't throw away any plastic silverware. Somehow I didn't quite understand what I do now.

I live right behind the most ridiculous spectacle on the Eastern Seaboard, a converted landfill that is now a park, and used to list on its website that "people come from all over the world to see this amazing site". Mount Trashmore, is by definition not in fact a mountain, as it only stands at 60 feet above sea level, not the required 2,000 feet, and hosts three vents to allow methane gas to escape from the hill's rotting masses. Rumor states that several years ago, lightning struck one of the vents and started a fire underground. All ridiculousness aside, they are producing it's twin: "MT. II" near my workplace to better utilize the space for the community now that it is covered in rot and ash from a converted Navy trash-to-energy plant.

The earth's resources are quickly be used and abused, as if there was an unlimited sum that we would never achieve. Unfortunately, that is not the case and we are quickly in need of solutions and recycling tops the list. Recycling helps convert used product into able resources so that existing natural resources are not depleted. Here are some examples:

1 recycled tin can would save enough energy to power a television for 3 hours.
1 recycled glass bottle would save enough energy to power a computer for 25 minutes.
1 recycled plastic bottle would save enough energy to power a 60-watt light bulb for 3 hours. (borrowed from UK Recycling Guide, 2003-2007).

Here are the fast facts about the garbage cans in your home:

Up to 60% of the rubbish that ends up in the dustbin could be recycled.
The unreleased energy contained in the average dustbin each year could power a television for 5,000 hours.
As much as 50% of waste in the average dustbin could be composted.
Up to 80% of a vehicle can be recycled.
9 out of 10 people would recycle more if it were made easier. (borrowed from UK Recycling Guide, 2003-2007)

Most people are not aware of the dangers of not choosing to recycle and how much more cost efficient and energy conscious it is to start recycling. For example:

Aluminium cans can be recycled and ready to use in just 6 weeks.
Glass is 100% recyclable and can be used again and again.
Glass that is thrown away and ends up in landfills will never decompose.
Recycled paper produces 73% less air pollution than if it was made from raw materials.
Plastic can take up to 500 years to decompose.
Up to 80% of a vehicle can be recycled.
70% less energy is required to recycle paper compared with making it from raw materials. (borrowed from UK Recycling Guide, 2003-2007)

The problem lies that most individuals don't know that the available resources are in their hands to take action now and that their action could have dramatic positive results. Turns out, the news isn't all bad, "in 1999, recycling and composting activities prevented about 64 million tons of material from ending up in landfills and incinerators. Today, this country recycles 32% of its waste, a rate that has almost doubled during the past 15 years" (Earth 911, 1996-2007). It gets better, "twenty years ago, only one curbside recycling program existed in the United States, which collected several materials at the curb. By 2005, almost 9,000 curbside programs had sprouted up across the nation. As of 2005, about 500 materials recovery facilities had been established to process the collected materials" (Environmental Protection Agency, 2007).

The truth is, for most Americans, recycling is as easy as sorting your trash while you are in your home and throwing your trash or recyclables in two separate bins. Most cities accommodate for recycling in their trash routes and do not charge citizens for recycling bin pick up. You can contact your local county about issuing you a recycle bin and adding you to the route and you can begin today to start avoiding the start of the new Mount Trashmore: Version 3.0 before the America Recycles Day which is right around the corner.

Reduce, Reuse, Recycle.

...And now to our regularly scheduled program.

I Shall NOT Be Moved

2007-09-11T21:11:00.000-04:00

I am so sick of moving. Growing up, we moved a lot. Barring the four years I was home-schooled, I went to five different schools, not mentioning the fact I moved my senior year of high school. Before I got settled in the university I am currently attending and have a graduation plan set with, I attended six colleges. After middle school, we moved approximately every three years. Counting travel time, the amount of time you spend with your life in a box or your butt on a plane, I was established only about two years and nine months of that time. My family got used to making new friends and knowing that the ones we loved and had shared our lives with would eventually move as well.

I grew accustom to filling whatever position was necessary as my father was a pastor; it usually meant starting a youth group or a Sunday school class, teaching children's church, joining the choir, planning on spending my Saturday mornings volunteering during choir rehearsal in the nursery department. I remember always being at the ground-breaking ceremonies. Everything I joined, I had to start for it to exist. If we wanted a drama team, I needed to start one up. If I wanted kids in the church to play with, then I had to be part of organizing a youth group. With military rotations being what they are, the chapel setting was in constant fluctuation. I never got to be a part of things in their prime or at their peak of success. Well, rarely anyway.

I married a military man and knew that moving a lot was part of the package. When we decided (when we were dating, mind you) that he would be separating at the first available break in his commitment, I was delighted that we could finally be established. The friends we made would be friends to stay, and I liked it that way. We joined a church (New Life Providence) shortly after we were married and it was a much larger church than I've ever been associated with. Their college groups were healthy and thriving and there were plenty of life groups to choose from as well as they their own worship service just for that populous. I was tickled pink. Their music department was excellent and well developed and we were so glad to be able to be fit in to ministry in that capacity. But we were more happy to know that if we were to miss a Sunday, life would continue as normal. Having been the backbone for so long, it was nice to simply be a shoe; I could be used, I could be used another day, and quite frankly, if left alone for too long, I could be forgotten, which was not desirable, but part of the package.

We are looking to possibly renew our lease this February for the fourth time and if we do so, it will be the longest I have lived anywhere, ever. That's not really saying much. I know that we are enjoying our friendships, our church, our work and our community, but every time I think about moving, I hear Avril Lavigne in my head: "Went back home again, this sucks gotta pack up and leave again. Say goodbye to all my friends can't say when I'll be there again. It's time now to turn around, turn my back on everything" (Let Go, 2002). She alludes to being a mobile, always moving, never still, always adjusting, never stagnant. I can appreciate not being in still water, but it is frequently in those still waters where reprieve is found.

All this to say, a very dear friend of mine (my non-Joshua best friend) is preparing to move elsewhere for her husband's work. I wasn't prepared for that. I was so excited that finally we would live in one place for awhile, it didn't occur to me that others have the same option. Conversations are coming more frequently with references to that wretched event and though I have moved many times, this is something I am not ready for.

She and I have created one of those relationships that everyone dreams about but no one has. She and I met as fresh newlyweds in a Bible study we were both new in attending, and to put it kindly, we did not prefer one another. I seem to remember being at a barbecue for our music ministry and she had a foot cast and so we were the only two not swimming and since Joshua was out to sea (story of our lives) somehow conversation was started.

It all seems like ancient history now as we have grown closer than sisters, but I remember the night she called and told me she was pregnant. We attended our women's study for three whole months without telling a soul and what a great secret it was! I remember lazy afternoons while her husband was at school studying and Joshua was on duty or out to sea, she would come over and play cards or Othello with me and we would eat and laugh until the baby got the hiccups. She gave me a job at a farm when Joshua and I couldn't buy groceries, I worked at a petting zoo, sweeping goat poop and feeding bleating donkeys. I came home smelling like something fiercely disgusting, but it was a great bonding experience.

I remember being so tickled with the idea of hosting a baby shower that was themed around Fresh crepes and strawberries and our make-shift maypole. I remember feeding her what we can only call "pregnancy soup" as it had all those great foods you aren't supposed to give pregnant women. Needless to say, she went into labor that night, in retrospect, I did think it was odd that she left so quickly. I remember watching a slew of whiny women come in and leave before I got to hold her baby that early morning.

The summer ended and my birthday came: I asked for riding lessons and so through that cold, dreary winter and spring she and I would tromp out to the field and bring back the draft horse that I was to ride, saddle up and ride under the arena lights while the wind blew and we sat bundled up covered in horse hair and smelling like something one only has nightmares about. I don't think I'll ever pursue being an equestrian or that after she skips town that I'll ever step foot on a farm again, but I know that from my love of her, I enjoyed it.

Time has progressed and we have grown closer still, and perhaps that is the separation I am dreading. Our two trees have grown so close together, our roots have intertwined and are reaching nutrients from the same sunlight, the same soil and the same water table. Uprooting one tree will cause severe damage to the other. I have no excitement of the day in which that will occur. I know it is forthcoming and that has made be so funny lately. I have this irking twinge to pull away, disconnect, remove myself from their lives that I love so much. I know it isn't right, but it hurts so deeply to think of being so closely connected to someone you know will be removed from you.

We swam tonight, I didn't want to look her in the eyes or for her to see the hurt in mine. I did not want to share a lane at the pool, I did not want to talk, I did not want to hang about. I just wanted to swim and get our date over with. How terrible. All the way home all I could think was about the importance as a military family of utilizing every possible moment and savoring every opportunity. I'm crushed, I'll admit, but I know that this time will yet be sweet.

Tomorrow is a new day, a new opportunity to relish what I have and enjoy the remaining months before I break fresh ground with someone new. Of course, she will have much to live up to, and who knows? This may be the one relationship I get to keep, now that I'm established and all...

Psalms 16:8 says, "I have set the Lord always before me; Because He is at my right hand I shall not be moved."

Salutations to Summer

2007-08-31T13:39:00.001-04:00

It's time. Summer is drawing to a close and those cooler cozy evenings are creeping into the picture. I get home and it still smells and feels like those dog-days of summer as I come in still adorned with summery skirts and flip flops, anxiously reaching for the thermostat to drop the temperature and crank the air conditioning if only for one more week, but when I leave my house first thing in the morning, it smells like autumn. Of course, the weather forecasts are still saying mid-eighties all week and lows only in the low-seventies, but I know September means hay-rides and trees turning colors and quite frankly, they can't fool me, as I already know that autumn is in full blown splendor in less than a month, so it can't always be summer.

When I leave the house in the morning, I look on my deck and see my stack of logs left from a warm winter and my woody rosemary plant that is longing to be thrown alongside new potatoes for a fun roast once the temperature cools enough to justify turning on the oven, and I have to smile for my favorite season is on its way.

So as I feel the cooler breezes and acknowledge that summer is slowly leaving the picture, global warming or not, I will still relish these final moments before the northern hemisphere succumbs to the warming tones and cooling feel of autumn and all those heart-warming moments that ensue. Salutations to summer and hail to the oncoming autumn!

Dreaming about the Sunset

2007-08-30T11:43:00.000-04:00

So as I end perhaps the most slow yet relaxing week I have had in a long time, I sit here rapidly typing away on my ergonomic keyboard, dreaming about the sunset. It is so warm, so calming, so inviting; it doesn't judge or pre-qualify you to receive its rays or colorful display. Evenly and carefully it showers the earth and its inhabitants with an equal distribution of light and time. Time, that never seems to allow me to get where I want to go or time enough to enjoy today without worrying about plans for tomorrow.

I spoke today with my husband's mentor, Randy, who asked how things were going and I commented that I recently made a very decided course of action and eliminated my educational schedule for fall and ended relationships in a couple of student organizations I was volunteering with and I have found that my stress levels were profoundly different. I told him that I felt like a new person and I was indeed happy for the change. He reminded me that some of those "duh" things we know soon become forgotten and neglected and when we are reminded of them they become "aha" things. Simple life facts: don't put too much on your plate, take time to smell the roses/coffee/hummus, exercise regularly, don't consume too much caffeine and so forth, and gradually get forgotten. Refocusing on the important things in life recently has really allowed me to take those "aha" thoughts and put them in practice and I think it makes all the difference.

As I count down the hours until sunset and the time Joshua will return I look forward to reminding him of those "aha" basics and encouraging him to savor the long weekend getaway we have planned outside of the city. Perhaps I will get him to sit with me in the hammock and watch the sunset, just as I have been dreaming, ever since he left.

Yabba-Dabba-Do

2007-08-29T22:15:00.000-04:00

I have a confession: I eat Flintstones children's vitamins.

I think it began last March when my husband and I committed to a lengthy fast and we needed vitamins and minerals during that time to sustain us and no other brand did not require you to consume with food.

But then the fast was over and there were vitamins left over and since I'm Dutch and we can't waste...

But now I love them. I twist open the child-proof top shake one colorful shapely vitamin and look: will I get orange, purple, red? will I get Fred, Bam-Bam, Wilma? how bad would it be if I take two?

If they don't want you to eat them, they shouldn't make them so darn tasty.

Being a Pythagorean

2007-08-29T21:23:00.000-04:00

I recently recommitted my lifestyle and diet to living healthfully. As I am rounding the two and a half year mark of a marriage to a steak-and-potato Texan who, quite frankly, doesn't notice when I don't include animal proteins or starchy spuds has faithfully encouraged me to return to my plant-based roots and go vegan. This encouragement has resulted in much study and reference into several texts that have resulted in new revelations about dietary health and its corresponding roots.

One of these such "revelations" has been the discovery that they used to call vegans "Pythagoreans" after the Greek philosopher who plagued young middle-school geometry students with the a² + b² = c² theorem. Gratefully, his lesser achievement were studies on beans and cabbage and the diets that could abound from them. His strict adherence to a meatless diet created a secret society following in his school and a lack of provision of meat therein. This title lasted two and a half millenia until 1847, at which the Vegetarian Society of the United Kingdom convened and the used the Latin "vegetus" meaning "whole, sound, fresh, lively" to create "vegetarians", under which both lacto-ovo vegetarians and vegans alike were categorized [My thanks to the International Vegetarian Union for the tip!].

Also in the history books of vegetarian and veganism is a little church in industrial England whose pastor, Reverend William Cowherd, challenged his congregation to take a vow to refrain from consumption of meat. As an incentive, he provided free vegetable soup to the small gathering whose economic hardship encouraged them toward such practical support. In his congregation was another budding reverend who set sail for Pennsylvania in 1817 to promote the lifestyle and his two initial converts were the fiery preacher and raw foods enthusiast who created the Graham cracker, Sylvester Graham and Bronson Alcott, who was the first to attempt a vegan community in America and was father to Louisa May Alcott (author of Little Women) [Becoming Vegan by Drs. Davis & Melina, 2000]. Small world, eh?

So, before you stick your foot in your mouth about vegans and their focus on healthy and rigid dietary standards, be grateful for the pioneers who focused on whole grains, raw foods and introducing Sylvester Graham to vegetarianism so he could create the drawing board for your campfire goodness staple: the s'more.

Getting Stuck

2007-08-24T17:28:00.000-04:00

Nothing is worse than running out to your car at 4:55 on Friday afternoon after a long and grueling week, throwing in your platter from the carrot cake muffins you brought in for your co-workers, the box of recyclables that was stored under your desk all week and your heavy book-bag for all those texts you didn't indulge in during your lunch break and then ... nothing. Your car doesn't start. How wretched is that?!

Your co-worker's husband is nice enough to open the hood, look through the manual and hypothesize with you over probabilities, but nothing. You get back to your office to call roadside assistance, but all the car shops are closed, because as you and I well know, car emergencies only occur between 9 and 5. Duh.

So, it's 5:35 on my Friday evening and I'm waiting to hitchhike my way home, instead of flopping on my couch with my September Bon Appetit. How droll.

My Dinner Menu

2007-08-17T20:27:00.000-04:00

One can of black olives (large, pitted)
+ Two eggs, poached with salt and pepper
+ One bowl of plain yogurt with honey and frozen strawberries
+ Half a handful of dry roasted peanuts
+ One slice of carrot bread with buckwheat, wheat germ, oatmeal and molasses
= Time to go grocery shopping. Big time.

Waiting for Tomorrow

2007-08-17T12:39:00.000-04:00

I think perhaps the only predicament about counting down is finally arriving. As a fully recovered former vegan, sometimes it was just the anticipation of nibbling on that rack of ribs or chocolate cake that was enough. Just the smell, just the thought of the taste, just the memory of savoring it in my mouth was enough. As Joshua and I finally count down what we believe to be our last two months of obligatory military service, it is almost crippling how much we yearn for tomorrow. Perhaps we should be savoring these final moments of job security, these last few paychecks, the last couple of days without having to pick out what to wear to work. I'm sure my husband will not concur to this since his alarm goes off at 4:10am and he prepares for the day, leaving twenty minutes later, his last act is to come kiss me and tell me goodbye and let me know (kindly) that I have two more hours before my alarm goes off.

When I look at his exhaustion, his tired soul, the worn down fight, I realize perhaps everything will be better when that final date comes. As I sat studying last night in the studio, Joshua sat on the couch doodling and he kept writing "55" over and over again. I turned from my case study analysis and asked if that was what were living for now. His eyes got wide and very firmly said, "YES". The resolve I now find in him seems to be solely focused on his exeunt and a returning to how he thought adulthood life was going to be.

There is something so overwhelmingly oppressive about his working environment. The leadership he is under is simply tyrannous and corrupt. Fight for my country? Yes. Defend freedom? Yes. Protect American citizens? Yes. Work 90 hours a week in a small hot room under sea-level filled with jet-fuel fumes and mold? No. Accept leadership position and become responsible for the rebellious acting-out of my constituents and take the brunt of the verbal and emotional abuse that is incurred as a result? No. Miss your wedding anniversary, your birthday and all major holidays without overtime or other morale compensation? No.

There apparently was never the option to draw a line in the sand, and say "enough is enough" instead a "you signed the line, you do the time" policy has been put in place. And now finally, we have suffered enough, and we are done. The anticipation is NOT enough, nor are we close enough or are we getting there fast enough. For the next 55 days, Joshua will be either on duty or underway 39 of them, without a single step in his house for a single moment of peace.

The pain is now severe, the insult is irrevocable, the anticipation is mounting and the hours still tick slowly by. But we continue to count down because we know it is yet forthcoming. Relief is available if only we reach the finish line still standing...

It is as Joshua has told me many times over: "It won't always be this way".

Ode to My Mother (On her Birthday)

2007-08-15T14:38:00.000-04:00

Mum:

This birthday cake is lots of fun.

You must chew it 'ere you're done.

It was made with memory of Grandma Sally,

With extra nutmeg, so don't you dally!

'Fourteen Karat Cake' is the only B-day cake,

A specialty tis' true, but with lots of love it's baked.

Michelle will help you celebrate tonight,

And for Thanksgiving, I will book your flight.

Grandma Magill's Cranberry Salad we'll make,

and an over-consumption of turkey we'll undertake.

But don't you blink, for Dad will soon be here,

His birthday you will celebrate with lots of cheer!

Of course, for his birthday, only 'German Chocolate' will do,

And with that chocolate, lots of kissing will ensue.

So, happy birthday, Mum, this cake is just for you!

Just the Two of Us

2007-08-11T14:29:00.001-04:00

I recently found an old girlfriend online who, a couple of years ago, birthed a beautiful baby boy. My usual reaction to this is to high-five my husband, who will inevitably sing: "Another one bites the dust" as we giggle and laugh and think how happy we are to be without strings right now, as most of our newlywed friends have become pregnant over the last several months. However, this time was different:

This last week, the temperature in Virginia Beach was a remarkable stunning 108. I very much dislike being uncomfortably warm, I am not a huge fan of summer, my cars do not have air conditioning and I find that I am not an advocate of sweating. For these reasons, I find I am particularly prone to heat exhaustion and found myself drinking like a camel at work. In fact, I would return from retrieving water and my water cup would already be empty as my girlfriends were yet finding their seats. Due to the extraordinarily high levels of estrogen in my office and consequently a heightened awareness of all things baby-related, they swarmed my desk and in lowered tones asked The Question: "Cailin, are you pregnant?" Me? The one who has loudly and vehemently declared she doesn't want children until after summer of 2011, when she finishes graduate school, has published her first book and her parents return from Asia Minor? No. Certainly not.

The Question got me thinking though. With viewing my girlfriend's son, who is now four, I began to think: do parents look at couples without children the way married people sometimes look at single people? Am I a lesser being for not changing over my studio to a nursery? For not giving up my dream of education? For not pursuing the American Dream of a white picket fence, a dog named Spot and a baby on each hip?

When Joshua and I first met, he wanted to marry a woman whose entire life calling was to be a mother. He got me instead: a goal-oriented, Type A, driven, high-strung working woman. Time has changed that of course, but we grew to understand that we had very varied but similar goals: I wanted to become a curator which meant setting aside dreams of a family and a home life until I had nestled my way into the world niche for art historians which did not include diapers and daycare. Joshua wanted a family and a warm home environment, but he knew increasingly that he had neither the preparation of head knowledge to effectively rear a child and he wanted to be ready. So we agreed to wait.

But now several of our friends ask us incessantly: "when are you guys going to have children?" As if my life wasn't complete without offspring. Can life not continue without children? I feel as if my entire marriage isn't validated until we procreate and that I can't call Joshua and me a family unless we have that third wheel. It's not that I'm opposed. I am a woman of lists and I already have names. Joshua and I speak of them often and fondly and laugh at the things we think they will do and say. We dream of them and their antics and prepare how we will handle their "child-isms" that will come as they grow to test limits and see that we love them enough to enforce them.

But when does one decide, in all of this 'growing-up' and becoming the people we dreamed of when we were kids, that we are "ready"? Is it just that I'm scared that I push the deadlines so far out? Summer 2011. Who plans that far in advance? I told a friend counselor this once and she laughed and said, "perhaps you should come by my office for a chat". Am I so controlling that I need to have everything in order before I join the ranks of all those bold women of history who handled life with ease, even with a baby on the hip? Am I too scared that I'll fail? Am I overwhelmed with the permanency? I mean, I can decide to go to school, but then realize I'm in over my head and take off a semester, but with children it doesn't work that way. There is no changing of one's mind.

I think of so many people I know that had children prematurely in life. They were kids themselves and what a mess they made of things. I think it scares me to think that in my controlling mindset I should encounter something that I cannot foresee or be able to manipulate to work perfectly in my grand scheme of things. I suppose that is how faith enters the picture. I will not be able to handle it all on my own, nor will I have to. Whenever I should be greeted with the news of my children, I will rejoice and be glad for I know that at that time, the timing will have been right.

But for now it's just the two of us and that's just fine for me.

First Sighting

2007-08-02T21:51:00.001-04:00

I saw it. It was on page 174 of my new Pottery Barn catalogue. I have to admit, I do consider August 2nd a little early in the season, but I can tell you for once, I didn't really mind. I am a ridiculous fan of autumn and to my complete delight, I did in fact find a pumpkin nestled in the new August catalogue. Good thing I am always looking for all things neutral-natural and all things autumnal or perhaps I wouldn't have seen the thing that reminds me that the beginning of my favorite season begins in 6 weeks and 4 days. Let autumn come!

Quick Rant

2007-07-24T16:17:00.000-04:00

Caitlin is not Cailin. Period. Caitlin means "pure", it is a nickname that comes from the Greek name Katherine. Cailin means "little girl" and it is an original Gaelic name. Please don't confuse the two. Honestly.

William Carlos Williams

2007-07-20T11:20:00.001-04:00

This is just to say
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

Debarred of Rest

2007-07-18T18:31:00.000-04:00

As I wait for the timer to tell me to take my Cardamom Oatmeal Banana Bread from the oven and I nervously stall waking my husband who, in short, could use a little shut-eye, I was reminded of Shakespeare's 28 Sonnet:

"How can I then return in happy plight
That am debarred the benefit of rest,
When day's oppression is not eased by night,
But day by night and night by day oppressed,
And each, though enemies to either's reign,
Do in consent shake hands to torture me,
The one by toil, the other to complain
How far I toil, still farther off from thee?
I tell the day, to please him, thou art bright
And dost him grace when clouds do blot the heaven;
So flatter I the swart-complexioned night,
When sparkling stars twire not, thou gild'st the even.
But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer,
And night doth nightly make grief's length seem stronger. "

Joshua works in excess of 80 hours a week, day in and day out, without a day off. He works under terrible management and even worse leadership. Oppressive, dominant, ruthless and power-tripping Type A individuals whose daily highlight is found in criticism and cutting morale. Watching him sleep peacefully on the floor of our dining room (where he found me when he got home), as he subconsciously listens to Celtic music and feels air conditioning for the first time all day, he is able to rest. Rest without a rude awakening or a crude conversation nearby. He is able, if for a short while, to forget the complaining echoes in ruminate in his mind all day and he is able to shrug off the bothersome monotony of lists of overwhelming work to achieve.

Just a moment longer, just breathe, sleep deeply, smell the fresh bread, feel the cool air reprieve and remember my vow to you: I will provide you with a retreat - a place of solace and rejuvination to give you a place to rest and find peace.

Now sleep and dream of the hills of Ireland. The bread timer will wake you when it's time to eat.

Pleasing Me

2007-07-16T12:31:00.000-04:00

"If you always do what interests you, at least one person is pleased. " — Katharine Hepburn

I have recently come to the understanding that I sometimes forget about me. Not doing my nails or giving myself regular dates to the massage therapist, but remembering the very core essence of me, the thing that makes me tick, makes me smile, makes me laugh. I notice that when I neglect time to paint or to cook or to laze around and create, I forget to be comfortable with me. I am nervous, stressed, bitter or high-strung. Things that take priority in my life now are my two busy roommates that seem to not know that housework can be done by a male (who knew?) nor that at the end of the day, I really would prefer to not do laundry.

I love foodie magazines: Bon Appetit, Gourmet, Saveur, Gastronomica, Food + Wine, Art Culinaire, amongst others... I love the articles, the critiques, the descriptions. I am also a particular fan of those elusive photographers who also do their own food styling and it is in visual evaluation of their work that makes me dig through the bills in my inbox to find my next issue. Something about the transcending value of food is so essentially undervalued in our society. I recently read in my Gourmet magazine a statistic that read: "One in five Americans live on a diet of ten foods or fewer. Among the most common choices? French fries, fried chicken, chocolate chip cookies and Kraft macaroni & cheese" (Gourmet, July 2007). Oh ew, people! When there are caramel peach choux to be eaten or German pannakuchen to be savored or warm potato salad with apple-smoked bacon to be eaten slowly under an Indian summer sky?

I have found a fond appreciation for names. I enjoy reading through the editorial list in magazines or watching the end of the movie to watch the credits roll to watch all the new, deliciously varied and ingenious names that roll of the tongue or stop you short and make you cock your head wondering if you are pronouncing it right. Those names are noted with the hope of being paired with the presence of my future children. As my husband was 'blessed' with the name ranked within the top 5 in popularity for the last 25 years, and I, having never met another with my name, have decided to bless our children, with odd, quirky, unpronounceable and otherwise unique and beautiful names to make our offspring stand apart.

I also like speaking my mind. I'm blunt, straight-forward, unaccommodating and in some cases, rude. I like free-flow brainstorming, random journal entries, and thinking aloud. Now where is that messy roommate? I have a few words for him..