little black journal

We’ve got a full tank of gas, Florence + the Machine piping through the speakers, a back seat full of snacks, and we are officially on the road! We’ll be spending the next couple of days with my parents at their home in Central Oregon, and sweet lord of vacations, I’m ready for this little getaway. My weekend to-do list, which usually consists of things like yardwork and laundry, has been appropriately modified for the occasion and now looks like this:

– Snuggle up with Bernie, my mom and dad’s super-lovable Australian Shepherd.
– Challenge Shane to a ping-pong face-off and resist my usual urge to pout like a brat when he kicks my butt (although I may get some post-defeat satisfaction in seeing my dad open up his can of whoop-ass on my husband when the two of them go head to head).
– Dig into my stack of library books. I’ve got Life of Pi all queued up and ready to go.
– Catch a fish (and maybe it’s time I bait my own hook?).
– Drink my morning cup of mint tea with my mom while we engage in some solid heart-to-heart, face-to-face catching up.
– Rest, chill, relax, and veg. Repeat as desired.

Happy (early) weekend, friends!

Well, well – look who came to visit!

Yep, the Giants are in town and it’s been an action-packed weekend, starting on a Friday night spent with Jack and La Verne at Safeco Field.  We entered the park with the throngs of other fans clad in orange in black, stalked Buster Posey for a few minutes, and then settled into our seats with a beer and a couple of bratwursts.  It was grand.

Oh, and guess who hit an upper-deck home run at his very first at-bat?  Just sayin’…

The Giants were up by two in the sixth and things were going swimmingly until Jack started to feel not-so-good.  Not-so-good quickly escalated to almost passing out, and within a few minutes he was put into an ambulance, all of us fearing that the bleeding ulcer that knocked him down three years ago had returned.  The ER doctor confirmed that was the case, and so Jack has spent the entire weekend under close watch at the hospital.  Thankfully, he’s feeling better and should be back at home tomorrow, but it certainly wasn’t how we’d hoped the evening would end…  (Jack, this is me kindly asking you to take your medicine!)

Saturday started early as our c-group gathered at Quest to kick off our first (annual?) Denim Dash 5k.  Our church gives each small group $200 every year and challenges us to bless our communities, and we decided to use our funds to make t-shirts and host a 5k race, with the intention of raising money and support for the Bridge Care Center, a homeless support center that was founded by Quest a couple of years ago.  We would take whatever money we made and use it to buy jeans, as the Bridge is always in need of clothing donations.  Thus, the idea for the Bridge to Bridge Denim Dash 5k was born, and we spent several weeks working out the details, mapping the route, and soliciting sign-ups.  We had our qualms about how many people would actually show up on that gray Saturday morning, but by 9:00, over 75 adults and kids had gathered to support our cause.  Shane led everyone to the starting line, and they were off!

Brian dressed in his finest, wanting to be extra-certain that no one missed the turn-around point.  Well done, bud.

This photo makes me laugh out loud – slow down, J!  Little Zebo is looking exceptionally wind-blown…

Women who can run while simultaneously pushing a stroller and giving a thumbs-up should get a medal.

Our smiles are indicative of our relief over how well it went!

The event was a complete success – the rain stayed away, everyone had a great time, and we more than tripled our money, meaning that we’ll be able to stock the Bridge with a pretty hefty supply of jeans!  This may be the first of many more Denim Dashes to come…

Shane and I were both beat by the time we got home, so we spent the afternoon vegging out and taking a pretty epic nap.  We listened to the Giants game on the radio in the evening and felt compelled to get out and enjoy the sunset as Dave Flemming and Jon Miller raved from Safeco Field about how beautiful the sky was.  We jetted over to Beacon Hill just in time to see the sun fall behind Seattle’s skyline, feeling thankful for a day full of so much activity and so much relaxation.

Today was yet another baseball-centric day – the sunshiny weather forecast looked like it was going to hold, so drove back over to Safeco in the morning to buy tickets for the afternoon game.  Shane scored a couple of cheap seats on the upper deck, and we were left with just enough time to make it to the Capitol Hill Farmer’s Market for lunch at Kedai Makan.  We thought last week’s fare from this Malaysian food stand was good, but this week proved to be even better – braised pork over noodles and curry chicken over rice?  Yes, please!

We headed back over to Safeco and spent awhile watching MadBum warm up in the bullpen – he was lookin’ good!  Our hopes were high.

But dang it, the Giants just couldn’t pull this one out.  Unfortunately, all-star pitching won’t get you very far if the rest of the team can’t knock in some runs.  The Mariners walked away with the win, and we walked away with our shoulders slumped in defeat.  I told Shane I was disappointed that this was the last time we’d see our team play this year.  He reminded me that we’d be making a trip down to San Francisco when the Giants make the play-offs.  His optimism is so endearing…

We ended the weekend with a trip to the hospital to see Jack, grateful that he’s on the mend and has the support of a woman as strong and caring as La Verne.  I know this has been an incredibly trying weekend for both of them, but they were full of smiles and jokes when we walked into his room – their positivity is so, so admirable.  Now let’s hope the Giants have at least a bit of Jack’s resilient spirit – clearly our friend doesn’t need the stress of any more losses!

Contrary to what our Sunday afternoon nap schedule might tell you, Shane and I are a pretty active couple – we try really hard to stay fit and exercise several times a week.  And since we enjoy each other’s company so much (six years and going strong!), I’ve been looking for a way for us to work out together.  Finding common ground in the athletic arena has been tricky – Shane bails after about seven seconds of Warrior 1, so my yoga and Barre3 videos are of no interest to him, but he runs like a madman, so his slow and steady jog is my all-out, Cujo-nipping-at-my-heels kind of pace (after my last blue-in-the-face attempt to keep up with him, I decided we would not run together again unless I had a pair of rollerblades strapped to my feet or he had a 25-pound sack of flour strapped to his back).  I don’t really like biking, and he loves a Saturday morning 20-mile cruise around Mercer Island.  It seemed exercise was just one of those things we’d have to do separately, until he registered for the Seafair Triathlon and undertook the burden of learning how to swim.  He signed up for lessons at the public pool and joined my gym so that he could practice there.  I was on the swim team when I was a kid and hadn’t really done a lap since, but I offered to tag along and cheer him on.  And Holy Speedo!  I love being back in the pool! We’ve been swimming together a couple times a week, and I’m feeling great, enjoying the progress I’ve seen both of us make in just a few short weeks.  We’ve added a pool workout to our new Sunday routine, right between church and a visit to the amazing Malaysian foot cart at the Broadway Farmer’s Market (more on that in another post), and we felt so proud of ourselves today when we finished our longest distance to-date.  He’ll still go off and run his seven and a half minute miles, and I’ll still hold that Sun God pose ’till my legs shake, but the pool?  That’s our territory.

We’ve been working our way through Ecclesiastes in our c-group, and last week Jason asked each of us to talk about verses in the passage we were reading that felt especially meaningful – I was quick to pick out 11:5:

“As you do not know the path of the wind, or how the body is formed in a mother’s womb, so you cannot understand the work of God, the Maker of all things.”

There have been several times over the past year when I’ve asked God “why”. Actually, it was more like, “WHYYYYYYYYY???!!!” Why did I have a miscarriage when I was so ready to be a mom? Why has the road to pregnancy been so difficult when I’m so healthy and young? Why is it so damn easy for so many other women? But when I read that Bible verse on that particular night, I felt all those questions melt away and breathed a sigh of relief as my heart filled with comfort and trust. I cannot understand the work of God, so I may as well stop trying. Just let Him do his thing – he’s got it covered and completely under control. He’s steering the ship, and that ship may or may not be bound for my particular dream destination, but the fact of the matter is, I don’t know the first thing about driving a boat, so I’m much better off in his hands. I was proud of myself for my faith-filled revelation. I was growing as a person, finally finding the beauty in “Let Go and Let God” (Geez, how I had hated when people said that). Looking back, I realize I was also in that window of my cycle when hope is most vividly present, when there’s the possibility that things actually “took” that time around. It’s the time of month when I see pregnant ladies on the street and photos of babies on Facebook and I feel joy and quiet anticipation. But that window closed this week as Day 30 became Day 1 again, and the cycles (biological and emotional) began again. My trust-filled heart sank. I reread Ecclesiastes 11:5, but rather than finding comfort in God’s plan, I was frustrated by my limited, short-sighted understanding. That nagging three-letter word crept back into my thoughts: Why? I said hello to my all-too-familiar amigos, disappointment and doubt, and then asked guilt to join the party, because shoot, if I was this bummed out, I hadn’t given up control after all… Thankfully, I do some of my best praying and soul-searching as I’m tumbling down my mountain of hope, and I found a foothold in the realization that sadness and trust can exist side-by-side. It’s ok to be disappointed – it doesn’t make me faithless, or selfish, or overly dramatic. And if I want to whine to God that I just don’t get it, I think he’s willing to hear me out. He may not answer me in the way that I want him to, with a perfect pink plus sign on a little plastic stick, but I know he’s still with me on this emotional roller-coaster, loving me, holding me close in a hug from a friend, or a day full of sunshine, or an especially grand weekend with Shane. That much I understand.

We awoke this morning to gray skies and a steady drizzle, which initially had me a bit bummed out, until I realized this was just the excuse we needed to go back to bed for a couple of hours.  No beach-front runs for us today – just plenty of snuggling up to the mister, exchanging mushy greeting cards and wishing each other a Happy Anniversary many times over.  We lingered at the house until check-out time, really not wanting to say goodbye to our little beach-front abode – I’m already checking future availability…  We had planned on an afternoon hike at Deception Pass, but the rain only fell harder as we drove north, so we stopped for a hot bowl of chowder in La Conner for lunch and decided to head on home.  We ended the day with 60 Minutes and a pot of oatmeal for dinner – how quickly the tides turned in our ultra-romantic weekend!

While the life we live is full of so many blessings, it’s also full of little stresses, daily to-do’s, and the general whir of busy-ness.  It felt so, so good to put all that stuff away for a couple of days and shift all of my focus to loving my husband better, taking joy in his humor and thoughtfulness and devotion.  It was refreshing to lavish affection upon one another, to talk about our hopes for the next year and the next fifty years, and to know that we’re really just beginning this grand adventure called marriage.  As hard as it is to come down off a such a perfect weekend, it’s encouraging to remember that we still have so much to look forward to – thousands more “I love you’s”, hundreds more kitchen dance parties, plenty of grand adventures, and a healthy smattering of island getaways.  Happy Anniversary, sweetheart.  Thanks for two days (plus six years) of bliss.

I know people say that Summer doesn’t truly arrive in Seattle until the 4th of July, but after the weekend we had, I’m going to go out on a limb and say that my favorite season is coming early this year (gosh, I hope I didn’t just jinx it…).

We started our weekend with the Kate Lynn Logan and JJ Heller show at the Q Cafe. It was a great, chill night of music – JJ is lovely and adorable with a super-sweet voice and a husband that accompanies her perfectly on the guitar. And late night Happy Hour after the show with Jack and La Verne at Daniels’ Broiler wasn’t half-bad, either…

We were up early on Saturday to run in the “Free Them 5k”, a fundraiser organized by the life-changing folks at World Concern. It was inspiring to see so many people turn out for a such a good cause. And the run was a blast – not at all competitive, but just a bunch of friends out for a jog on a beautiful day.

We headed home after the race for a shower, and then grabbed our bikes and were back out the door to ride to Jack and La Verne’s for an afternoon barbecue. We made a quick stop at the ball fields down the street to watch some of the neighborhood kids take a whack at tee ball. And my goodness, they were so cute with their give-it-your-all swings and helmets bobbling as they rounded the bases.

After barbecue part one at Jack and La Verne’s, we rode back home for barbecue part two with Justin and Lindsey. Fresh salmon hot off the grill, good conversation with some of our favorite neighbors, and one incredibly adorable baby that made me giggle as she pushed her face up against the door for a game of peek-a-boo with Shane. I predict this is only the first of many backyard dinners to come over the next few months. Yessssssss…

5k’s are kind of like chump change for Shane these days – he was up at 6:00 this morning to head over to Kirkland for yet another half-marathon. Jack, La Verne and I staked out the finish line and cheered like crazy as he rounded the bend several minutes earlier than expected. My man is a total rockstar – 13.1 miles in 1 hour and 39 minutes. Insane! I’m so proud of him. He dedicated this run to his mom in honor of Mother’s Day and said he thought of her whenever he needed encouragement to push up a particularly tough hill – his super-fast time is proof that she has been so, so good to him.

Post-race, we headed to Capitol Hill to check out the Farmer’s Market, but finding that it wasn’t open yet, we settled on sandwiches and an outdoor table at Homegrown. News flash!: I believe I may have found the best breakfast sandwich in Seattle. A fluffy fried egg, perfectly crisp bacon, Beecher’s cheese, and a toasted potato bun. Wowsers, it was good.

We napped and watched baseball and sat out on the back porch this afternoon, soaking in the joy of a lazy, sunny Sabbath. I eventually worked up the energy to get out of the house for ice cream from Full Tilt – tell me this photo isn’t proof that Summer really is almost here!

We took our cones to-go and drove over to Genessee Park to lay on the grass and catch the last of the day’s rays next to the blue waters of Lake Washington.

Ahhhhh, the bliss of a Vitamin D high…

It was a pretty grand weekend.  Grand in a run-of-the-mill kind of way, but that’s exactly what I was craving after a long week at work.  Plenty of rest, good times with friends, and a healthy dose of sunshine.

I kicked off Saturday with the ladies at our book club meeting – good coffee, good book (Go read The Book Thief!  You’ll love it!), and some good catching up with each other.  All kinds of good happening at Espresso Vivace that morning…

We spent Saturday evening at Jack and La Verne’s, making use of their new patio furniture and feasting on the fruits of Jack’s stellar grill skills.

Shane took a break from the action to hang with baby Stella.  I raised my eyebrows when Nicole asked Shane to put Stella in her footy pajamas, wondering if he’d be up for the task, but he was a like an old pro as he snapped her up, wrapped her in her fuzzy blanket, and took her in his arms for a quieting stroll around the house.  This man is going to make one heck of dad some day.

We ended the night with Beard Papa’s cream puffs and hot tea – again, so good!

I was thrilled to wake up this morning and see sunshine glowing through our bedroom curtains.  We spent some time after church this morning poking around Ballard, walking across the Locks and enjoying the blue, sunshiny skies.

I had a long list of to-do’s I’d planned on tackling this afternoon, but ultimately decided those chores and errands could wait:  I needed an afternoon of guilt-free veggin’.  I read and dozed on the couch, pulling myself out of sleep just in time to watch the Giants beat the Brewers in the 11th inning.  Woot!

Once the game was over, Shane and I moved our laze-fest to the backyard, to read and sip cocktails and dote on our neighbors’ new Shiba Inu puppy.

And that’s a wrap on this pretty perfect weekend.  Productivity is sooooo over-rated.

And that’s how it’s done.  Easy as chocolate chip cookie pie (with ice cream on top).

Shane and I are often told by people with children that we should savor every minute of this phase of life that we’re in.  And I know that it’s true – there is lots of freedom that comes with this dual-income, kid-free thing we’ve got goin’ on.  We can go out for a fancy dinner at a moment’s notice, we can stay out late drinking cocktails and seeing shows, we can jet out of town when we’re feeling antsy.  And yet, many nights I can’t think of anything I want to do more than put on my pajamas and hole up at home with a glass of wine and a good book or movie.  Tonight was a classic case in point:  we at least ventured out of the house to stuff ourselves at our neighborhood burger joint, but we were home by 7:30, I was in my sweats by 7:35, and my nest of blankets and pillows had been properly arranged on the couch by 7:40 for the optimal Giants-viewing experience.  I haven’t really gotten up since then, except to do a little drawing and brew a cup of tea.  And to give Buster Posey an air high-five for that homer he just hit.

Call me boring.  Call me a homebody.  Call me the 75 year-old trapped in the 30 year-old’s body.  But hot damn, this was my kind of Friday night.

Goodness, I love me some Seattle sunshine.  And this weekend was full of it.

I ran outside and actually got hot after a mile or two, we Happy Houred on a patio in Leschi, I wore sunglasses and loaded up on sleeveless shirts at the outlet mall today, we ate fish tacos and drank Coronas while overlooking Lake Union, and I sat in the backyard and let my toes see the light of day for the first time in I-don’t-know-how-long.  It was glorious.

The forecast calls for cloudy skies and rain tomorrow.  But until then, I’m going enjoy the warmth of my ever-so-slightly pink cheeks and pretend summer is just around the corner (self-delusion is a beautiful thing).