little black journal

It’s been a blue month. A string of blue months, actually. Yes, there have been bouts of unabated joy (it is summertime in Seattle, after all!), but there have also been seemingly long bouts of deep, shadowy funk. I have felt fragile, like my emotions are just a millimeter under the surface of my skin and ready to explode in a fit of wet, slobbery tears at any moment. I cried in my pasta last week when La Verne asked me over lunch how I’ve been doing. I cried when Shane and I couldn’t agree on what to have for dinner the other night. I cried when yet another month of trying to get pregnant ended with a big fat no-go. I suppose the tears are to be expected, but it’s the the other emotional gunk that’s clogging up my soul. I’m realizing how this journey through infertility has caused all my worst qualities to rear their ugly heads. Envy. Self-pity. Impatience. And worry. Great, heaping boatloads of worry. I worry that God’s vision for our family is different from the plan I’ve wished upon since I was a little girl playing with my Betsy Wetsy doll. I worry that there’s this part of my heart that’s specially reserved for a child of our own, and if that child doesn’t come into our lives soon, that part of my heart is going to harden and leave me with a limited capacity for joy. I worry that I worry too much, and that no egg is going to want to stick around in a womb filled with so much anxiety.

I’ve seen friends and family members and people in inspirational 60 Minutes interviews find peace and find God in the face of adversity. I always wanted to believe that I was one of those people – that if I was diagnosed with a terminal illness or forced to flee our home in a natural disaster, I would still be able to see God’s abounding goodness in my life and trust in His ultimate plan. Turns out I am not one of those people. At least not at the moment. In the midst of our struggle, despite the fact that we have our health and our home and a community that loves us, I can’t seem to climb out of my dank, gloomy hole. I’ve sat down there for awhile now, arms crossed and held sulkily bowed. Sometimes Shane drops in for awhile, or Nancy or La Verne will stop by to check on me, but usually I prefer to have the place to myself, so that I can spread out my grief without worrying that anyone will trip over it. I’m slowly, tentatively looking skyward and wanting to reach for God, but not at the expense of leaving my plans for our family behind. Maybe that’s where I’ve gone wrong – I’ve taken for granted the fact that He’s willing to climb into my hole with me, to chip away at my stubbornness and help me loosen my grip on all that I’ve clung to so tightly. He’ll sit there with me show me that our every happiness shall not rest on state of my uterus. He’ll meet me where I am, rather than demanding that I make the trek toward Him.

I suppose it’s time to roll out that welcome mat.

My weekend really kicked off on Thursday, with the arrival of my parents and my Aunt Ruthie, up for a quick visit to Seattle.  After a little at-home happy hour action, we all headed for a walk around Seward Park and dinner at Geraldine’s.  I hadn’t seen Aunt Ruthie for a couple of years, so it was good to catch up with her on all the latest happenings with my East Coast family.  I went into the office on Friday, but slipped out at lunchtime for mimosas and chowder at the Market with my mom and aunt, and then left a little early so that we could crack open that bottle of white wine while the afternoon sun was still grazing our back patio.  We grilled burgers and watched baseball and sat around the table telling stories from way back when.  As I get older, I’ve come to appreciate that my story doesn’t start with my earliest childhood memories.  My story is wrapped up in my parents’ first years of marriage, in the opossum-shootin’ shenanigans my dad got into as a kid at his grandparents’ farm, in the letters Nannie and Grandaddy wrote to each other when they were just young kids in love.  I’m just one little leaf on a family tree full of love and laughter and devotion.

Oh, and speaking of “way back when”, how incredibly awesome is the picture my aunt brought for us of the Jarrell clan, circa 1979?  Holy retro, Batman!

My aunt left for Baltimore on Saturday morning and my parents headed down to Portland, so the rest of the day was devoted to…a whole lot of nothin’.  No house projects, no errands, no baseball, just an afternoon full of completely blissful quiet on the back patio with a good book and a bowl of cherries (followed by a perfect afternoon snooze).  Putting away my to-do list felt so, so good – I think I needed the break.  We ended the day with one (last?!) backyard summer bbq at Brian and Nicole’s.  Sausages hot off the grill, piled with all kinds of toppings?  I needed that, too…

Sunday was full of more relaxing, a killer lunch at our favorite Malaysian food cart, another nap (or two – ?!), and dinner/catch-up at Chez Rust.  Stick a fork in this weekend – it is done.  Wellllll done…

We went gangbusters on our to-do list this weekend, hanging new photos on the walls, washing windows, planting a row of autumn flowers out front, cleaning the car, purging closets and making a major Goodwill run.  But all work and no play make Shane and Kelly a dull, old married couple, so we set aside plenty of time for the stuff of true weekending.  We laid on the grass at Jefferson Park and drank wine while the sun set on the silhouette of downtown.  We took part in an epic cornhole tournament at my office’s summer picnic on Alki Beach (Shane is apparently awesome at this game – no huge surprise there…).  We gorged ourselves on pork tacos, a fried chicken sandwich, and hot, fresh beignets at World Concern’s mobile food truck bonanza.  We took naps and watched baseball and reconnected after a few days of being unsettled and just off.  We sat on the back patio this evening and ate popsicles and raised our glasses to a weekend well spent.

The forecasters are saying that summer here is on its way out – cheers to savoring this sunshine to the very last drop.

It’s been a doozy of a weekend, jam-packed with activity, but also fun and productive and perfectly sun-shiny.

Shane headed off for a kayaking adventure with the boys on Friday night and I fell asleep on the couch at 7 pm.  Yup, that’s my version livin’ it up while the hubs is away…  I did, however, wake up an hour later and embark on a 4-hour dusting frenzy as I moved furniture around in preparation for our new living room paint job.  As disgusting as it is to find an army of dust bunnies living under a bookshelf, it is so, so rewarding obliterate those suckers with a fresh rag.  And this is the stuff of wild Friday nights when I’m home alone.

I met up with Emily at church on Saturday morning to do a little painting in the newly renovated children’s area – we added birdies and leaves (and one super-sweet raccoon) to a tree mural while catching up with one another.  I am by no means a mural-painter, but this was fun.  Hoping the kids love their brand new “woodland creatures” themed classroom!

I spent Saturday afternoon at home working on a painting project of my own – I’ve been scheming a little living room makeover and kicked it off yesterday off with a nice coat of medium gray on the walls. Stay tuned for the final result.

By Saturday evening Shane and I were both pooped – I was plumb painted out and Shane was suffering from kayaker’s fatigue, so we scrapped the idea of cooking at home and headed over to Bar del Corso for prosecco, mussels, and wood-fired pizza that is giving Tutta Bella a run for their money.  We enjoyed our little sidewalk table until the sun went down and the street-sweeper came barreling past the restaurant – that was our cue to leave.  But man, that meal was good while it lasted.

After a fantastic morning at church, Shane and I headed east for a couple hours of blueberry picking at Bybee Farm in North Bend.  The branches were heavy with plump berries begging to be picked and we made our way down the aisles, quickly filling our buckets.  If not for the trickles of sweat running down our backs (it was hot out there!), I could have spent all afternoon among those bushes.  I suppose we’ll have to settle for our mere 8 pounds…

We spent tonight hanging with our favorite neighborhood kiddos while mom and dad enjoyed a fancy evening out.  Toys were brought out, books were read, tears were kept to a minimum, and everyone was tucked into bed by their scheduled time (er…give or take 30 minutes).  We make a good team, Shane and I.

And with that, I’m signing off – hittin’ the sack a little early tonight for a post-weekend recovery.  Bon nuit…

We are in the thick of Olympic fever here at Chez Schnell – we’ve spent nearly every evening for the past week and a half in front of the TV, staying up until midnight to hang with Bob Costas.  While this has made for some sleepy afternoons at the office, it’s been fun.  A few non-expert thoughts:

I adore Gabby Douglas.  Man, that smile.  And I love her humility and genuine spirit.  You go girl.

Can’t stand those Russian gymnasts – especially Miss Diva Mustafina.  When she grinned during Gabby’s falter on the bars, I wanted to reach through the TV and give her a piece of my mind.  And the way she shrugs off her coach after a poor routine – jeez.

I love watching Danell Leyva interact with his stepdad/coach – so much affection!  Makes me wish it was more common in our culture for adult sons and their fathers to hug/kiss/jump up and down together.

If I had a genie in a bottle, I would wish for the arms of an Olympic track runner.  Dang, those ladies are cut.

Misty May-Treanor and Kerri Walsh Jennings are bad-ass.  And they’re so good together – there was a moment after their win tonight when Kerri reached over and adjusted Misty’s necklace so that the clasp was in the back, and it was such a small gesture, but it was just so…sisterly.

If I were to choose the Olympic sport in which I would be the most horrifically awful, it would be the velodrome.  Balance, agressiveness, and do-or-die speed?  Noooooo thank you.

Watching this video really made me want to be a part of the swim team.  How fun does this gang look?  Minus Michael Phelps.  He’s not my favorite.

I like the sappy little athlete bio pieces almost as much as I like the actual events.  Whenever one of them starts, Shane rolls his eyes then turns up the volume.  ‘Cause he loves me.

Holla, USA!

I fell in love with café culture during my year of studying abroad in Paris. Those tiny cups of espresso were my ticket to seeing the city – I often didn’t have the money (or the companionship) to eat meals in each neighborhood’s best restaurants, but I could always scrounge up a couple of Euros for some coffee and a seat at one of those little round tables. I passed so many hours with my sketchbook or my journal, lingering at a Marais sidewalk terrace or a trendy Bastille bistro. It truly was la vie…

I brought this habit back with me for my final year of college and frequented Linnaea’s café in SLO, with its warm back room and lovely garden patio – this was my go-to spot when I had to get away from studio but couldn’t trust myself to study at home, for fear of falling asleep on my books.

And then I moved to Seattle, coffee capitol of the United States! I was living in Capitol Hill, with caffeinated institutions like Bauhaus, Joe Bar, Vivace, Victrola, and Faire just blocks away from my apartment. My office was near Pioneer Square and I often snuck away on my lunch breaks to Zeitgeist or Umbria for some me-time and a latte (now that I had a job, I could afford milk with my espresso – the luxury!). My office eventually moved a little closer to the middle of downtown, and Shane and I gave up our Capitol Hill apartment for a townhouse in Columbia City, and I spent less and less time savoring my coffee with a good book or my journal. I’m realizing lately just how much I’ve missed it – I’ve missed the taste of a latte out of a mug rather than a paper to-go cup, I’ve missed the people-watching and the conversation eaves-dropping (you know you do it, too) and the sense of independence and solitude that comes with taking a table for one. So watch out baristas, ’cause I am back! I got up extra-early yesterday and spent half an hour at Zeitgeist on my way into work, sipping and reading and reveling in the warmth of my sunny spot by the window.  I’m hoping I can make a weekly ritual out of this – some people grow weary without their regular caffeine fix, but I think my fix comes from the cafe itself.

My weekends have been a good mix of chillin’ and sight-seein’ lately, with lots of time spent lazing around with Shane or getting out with friends.  And that’s been grand, but when I found myself with a wide-open Saturday on the calendar I decided I was really in the mood for some quality loner time, so I grabbed a book and a pair of sunglasses, waved good-bye to the hubster, and set out for my own version of Treat Yo-Self 2012.  First stop?  Crumble and Flake, Seattle’s newest buzz-worthy bakery.  This place opened it’s tiny storefront in Capitol Hill a couple of months ago and sells out of its signature items nearly every day.  I grabbed a spot in line right as their doors were opening and scored quite the spread – an apricot-lavender scone, a Kouign Amann (a sugared, caramelized croissant – soooooo good), a cheddar paprika croissant, and a black currant macaron.  In my defense, the cheddar croissant was for Shane, so keep the oink oink remarks to yourselves…

I took my goodies over to Bauhaus, ordered a latte, and found a cozy table by the window.  It’s been awhile since I’ve done some solid cafe-lurking.  Felt good.

Next on the agenda was a visit to the Seattle Art Museum – I haven’t wandered the halls of the SAM for years and it was fun to revisit a couple of my favorites (hello, Anselm Kiefer and Helen Frankenthaler!) and take in the current exhibition on Australian Aboriginal Art.  Plus, there’s just something about a Saturday at the museum that feels so…chic.

I swung by the house for a snack and was soon back out the door with a mission to shop.  I made the usual rounds at Southcenter and practiced restraint when I walked out of DSW with just an (un)sensible pair of black wedges from the clearance rack, but I’ve got my eye on you, taupe leather sandals, I’ve got my eye on you…

I made it back home in time to enjoy the early evening rays from our back patio, where Shane and I drank smoothies and sun-soaked and talked about the day’s happenings.

We made a simple pasta dinner and Shane stuffed himself with noodles (carbo-loading for his race tomorrow!), but I was wise and saved room for dessert – I had a date with a perfect black currant macaron.  Treat yo-self, indeed.

I’ve been a bit off-kilter these last few weeks, feeling like I’m busy but not really doing anything. This is typical Kelly behavior – I get all caught up in wanting to be productive and have something to show for my time that I forget how worthwhile the “non-productive” stuff of leisurely weekends can be. I could use more reminders that there is indeed value in a Saturday trip to Bainbridge Island or a Sunday afternoon nap, even though I haven’t made/cleaned/”checked off” anything. Note to self: smell the roses! And don’t feel bad about it!

All of that said, I’m not letting myself off the hook completely – I’m still committed to growth and self-betterment and all that jazz, so I’m checking in again on my resolutions, wanting to know where there’s room for improvement (while still giving myself the occasional pat on the back).

Read the Bible in its entirety. On track! And man, did it feel good to hit that 50% mark this week. It’s been a slog through 1 and 2 Kings and 1 and 2 Chronicles, but things are on the upswing. I like Elisha. Except for that part where he summoned two bears to maul the group of boys that called him “baldy” – that was weird… I mentioned in my last update how I was struggling with the angry, vengeful God of the Old Testament and I recently read this book in an attempt to dive deeper into the Bible. I’m still reconciling Old Testament God with New Testament Jesus, but my perspective has definitely broadened over these last few months. Pat on the back for breadth of perspective!

Catch up with a friend over coffee every week or two. I continue to be so thankful for the friends that have become our family up here, for the people that don’t hesitate to stop and ask me how me I’m really doing. There have been times in the past month when I’ve sat with friends and laid all my sorrows out on the table like a ratty old deck of cards, and there have been times when I’ve eaten chocolate cake and laughed until my cheeks hurt. So I’m not going to get hung up on whether or not that weekly coffee date is on my calendar – right now, I’m just dwelling in this spirit of gratitude and leaving myself open to opportunities for both sharing and listening.

Read the Economist leaders each week. I give up.

Check out one new (to us) Seattle restaurant each month. Eating out? Nooooo problemo. We haven’t been anywhere fancy in awhile, but we have recently discovered a pretty decent neighborhood joint in Bent Burger (I still can’t believe Shane ate that whole beef patty/hot link/fried egg/grilled cheese stack of a burger), and I am loving me some good farmer’s market fare. I’ve already mentioned my fondness for Broadway’s Kedai Makan, and Columbia City’s naan stand, Tandoozy, is scrum-diddly-umptious.

Juice at least once a week. I’m still tracking with a glass of the hearty green stuff on weekends, and also experimenting with some new in-season fruits. Sparkling water topped off with a batch of fresh watermelon juice? Hellllllllloooooooooo, Summer!

And an update on my big sugar reduction resolution: I haven’t had a Skittle or a soda for weeks, but damn it, it’s ice cream season! And two Red Mango yogurt shops just opened within three blocks of my office. And there will most certainly be s’mores on our camping trip this weekend. It’s like the sugar gods have joined forces to tempt me. And oftentimes, they win. But I did walk right past that plate of huge cookies that sat on the counter of our office kitchen on Wednesday afternoon. Small victories, folks. Small victories.

Seattle continues to bask in all of summer’s glory – temps in the 80’s today and nothin’ but sunshine in the 10-day forecast!  This weekend was all about maximizing our Vitamin D intake, from the time I spent laying in the grass at Seward Park while Shane swam in the lake on Friday evening, to that last bite of corn on cob as we dined on our back patio tonight.  It’s like Christmas came early this year, in the form of blue skies and that blazing ball of heat.

I was itching to get outdoors and out of town on Saturday, so we hopped on the ferry for a mini getaway to Bainbridge Island.  There were a couple of previously-unexplored things we’d been wanting to check out, and a couple of old favorites we were eager to visit, so we grabbed our sunglasses and camera and we were off!

Our first stop was Streamliner Diner, where we scored a cute little table in the sun and feasted on gigantic omelettes and perfect buttermilk biscuits.  Awwwww yeah.

Next on the clipboard of fun were the Bloedel Gardens – a nature reserve on the north end of the island knows for its varied landscapes.  We spent a couple of hours leisurely wandering through the park and fell in love with it all – from the marshy wetland, to the open meadow, to the mossy forest, to the foxgloves and clovers and Japanese maples.  So, so beautiful – I’m adding this place to our “annual summer tradition” list.

By the time we left the garden, the biscuits and omelettes had settled enough to make room for an island favorite – ice cream at Mora!  W agonized over their list of 30+ flavors, settled on a couple of unlikely split-scoops (dulce de leche and lemon bar for Shane; raspberry and sabayon for me), and took our cones to-go so that we could grab a seat down the street and enjoy the live music.  Shane was sold the minute he heard this woman’s bluesy voice crooning the lyrics to a Rachel Yamagata song.  I dug her ukelele and her yellow sunglasses.

A couple of lavender lemonades from Blackbird Bakery, a few minutes of wandering Winslow’s cute downtown, and it was time to catch the ferry back to home sweet home.

We capped off the day with dinner and cocktails at Chez Rust.  Jason and Shane played volleyball in the backyard, Nance and I sat on the patio for some solid catching-up and bird-watching (the neighborhood hawk was making his rounds), and we all remarked over just how good it feels to be outside after what’s felt like such a long winter and spring.

Today was wonderfully mellow – an easy jog and more lounging at Seward Park while Shane did a training swim/bike/run (my man is going to kill that triathlon!) and dinner out back, hot off the grill.

Only downside to this perfect weather?  Hot damn, it’s going to be hard to head back to work tomorrow!

Something about the onset of summer kicks my butt into healthy overdrive.  The brightly colored produce popping up in the markets makes me rethink my eating habits, the arrival of tank top weather makes me hyper-aware of my less-than-toned upper arms, and the sunshiny evenings leave me without an excuse to spend my weeknights curled up cozily on the couch.  So here I am, squirming uncomfortably in my too-tight skinny jeans, bound and determined to shape up.  I’ve activated my subscription to Barre3’s library of online videos, I’m logging more miles than usual on the old running shoes, and, Lord help me, I’m cutting back on my most favorite food group:  sugar.  Oooooh, how it pains me to put that last one on the list.  Because I don’t just have a sweet tooth, I have sweet teeth.  I crave it all – cookies, chocolate, ice cream, pastries, candy, sugar, sugar, SUGAR…I’m strung out, folks.  So like an addict truly committed to recovery, I told myself last week that I was going to cut it all out.  No mas.  Cold turkey.  That resolution ended up lasting all of eight minutes, because first, who am I kidding?  And second, do I really want to live a life riddled with so much self-denial?  I’ve adjusted my goals a bit and have settled on a couple of rules that feel achievable.

1) Quality over quantity*.  Cut out the high fructose corn syrup and the nutritionally empty sugar fixes.  I dug through our snack cupboard and threw away a box of Red Vines and a bag of Skittles yesterday.  It felt like such a shame to waste all those beautiful flavors of the rainbow, but if I’m going to stick with this, it had to be done.

*Birthdays, anniversaries, and major U.S. holidays may be occasions for both quality and quantity.

2) Fruit first.  If I’m craving something sweet, I eat an apple or a handful of berries.  If that doesn’t cut it, by all means, I can indulge in a good piece of chocolate or a scoop of ice cream, guilt-free.

I’m one week into this little experiment and feeling pretty good – those first couple of days of detox were pretty rough (picture me rummaging through my desk drawer during my usual post-lunch sweets craving, praying that there was a stray Starburst or an old Snickers bar tucked away in the recesses of my cabinet), but my cravings are gradually lessening and I’m hoping my energy levels will increase as I stick with this.  Besides, who needs all the flavors of the Skittles rainbow when red comes in so many juicy hues?