little black journal

Merry, indeed.  Our day was full of food, family, football, and plenty of quality rest and holiday cheer.  We ate until we could eat no more (a nine-pound ham, a mound of mashed potatoes, gravy, glazed carrots, brussel sprouts, stuffing, buns, apple pie and pumpkin pie – whew!), we opened gifts, we Skyped with family, we lounged while Shane indulged in an NBA marathon, we ate some more, and then we filled our fridge with Tupperware towers of leftovers.  Shane’s mom and dad have settled into our place, and our home has never felt warmer, with the smell of apple pie wafting in the air and the sound of family memories being recounted in the living room.

Happy Holidays, friends – tidings of comfort and deepest joy from the Schnells!

Dear God,

It’s Christmas Eve – I’m sitting here in the quiet of our living room, reflecting on how abundantly you’ve blessed me. I’m so thankful for family near and far, for our warm home, for our church, for our community of friends. I deserve so little, yet you’ve given me so much. And yet, I come here with one more favor to ask. I’m asking you to take my heart and allow it to soak in the true meaning of Christmas. I want to fully experience the joy and anticipation that was felt at the birth of Christ. I want the carols I’ve sung for years to really ring true for me – I want to hear heaven and nature sing, to see shepherds quake at first sight, to fall on my knees and hear the angel voices. I want to witness Mary’s unavailing courage and strength, to feel the amazement of the shepherds as the heavenly host appeared to them. I want to remember that the Christmas story isn’t just a story; that silent, holy night really, truly happened and changed the world forever. I know, I’ll never experience the smell of that manger, see that bright and shining star, hear that little baby’s cries; but God, somehow, in your divine power, let my heart be there. “Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord.”

Amen.

I don’t know if it’s the warm glow of our Christmas tree, or the addition of some really good stuff to our Netflix queue (have you seen Breaking Bad? o.m.g.…), or the way I fit just right in the corner of our new leather sectional, but I am especially loving home and its abundance of comforts these days. I’m loving homemade cookies and cups of hot chocolate, cranking up my Christmas mix on the stereo and sitting by our tree laden with so many memory-filled ornaments. I didn’t go into work on Monday, thinking I’d get a jump start on the cleaning and grocery shopping before Shane’s parents arrive on Friday, but instead I spent the entire day camped out on the sofa with my knitting and my book, just wanting to soak in the quiet joy of being at home during this Advent season. Home…that word used to conjure up feelings of uncertainty and a longing for times past, having lost my connection to my childhood house when my parents left California; now that word brings so much comfort and contentedness, as we more deeply root ourselves in Seattle year by year. Shane and I are continually reassured that we are just where we’re meant to be, in our cozy little South Seattle town home, surrounded by neighbors we trust and friends we adore, with a bakery nearby that serves the best ginger scone I’ve ever tasted and a pizza place that has redefined our understanding of thin crust (I know, it sounds like I’m putting baked goods and pizza up there with neighbors and friends, and…I am. hehe.). I’ve had a couple of friends make big moves lately, leaving Seattle for the sunny beaches of San Diego, and I felt small pangs of envy as they left, wanting to resist the fact that at the age of 30, I’m already “all settled down”. But really, settled feels pretty good for us right now. There really is no place like home for the holidays.

I’ve been watching the count on my blog entries tick up and up, and today marks a bit of a milestone:  welcome to post #400!  When I started this blog four years ago, it was largely because I wanted an incentive to seek interesting experiences and to document those experiences in interesting ways.  I’m sure that many people blog because they travel, or they make things, or they think deep thoughts, and they want to share that with the world.  Sounds strange, but I was hoping that the inverse would hold true for me – I was in a rut, and I was thinking that I would go more places, be more creative, do more cool stuff because I blog.  Nobody follows a blog full of entries that read, “today was just like yesterday, and tomorrow will be just like today”, right?  To some degree, my backwards logic has worked – I look for ways to make my weekends interesting (and often fail, but whatever), I feel motivated to take on a creative project when I realize how long it’s been since I’ve posted anything in the ‘made’ category, and I take lots more photos now that I have an avenue by which to share them.  And that’s all good stuff; now Shane and I have this nice little record of our trips and our Seattle experiences and our time with friends and family.

But lately, I’m feeling a tug to dig a little deeper.  There’s not a lot of soul-baring going on around here, which is partly due to the fact that I’m still navigating just how personal I want to be in a journal entry that starts with “www.”, but also due to the fact that I rarely make an effort to check in with myself, to put the brakes on, turn down the noise, and think about how I’m really doing.  My posts center around what I did, read, saw, or made, because when I’m not in go-mode, I prefer to just shut off my mind completely, finding my restoration in an hour of napping or TV vegging.  I’m so inspired by the talent some of my closest friends have for bravely, articulately sharing their hearts on their online journals – I want to write with that kind of emotion and honesty and introspection.  So consider this an early New Years resolution: I want to get real.  Sure, you’ll still find plenty of frilly photos and mundane weekend updates popping up around here, but ultimately I’ll be striving to make this place a better reflection of who I am, and not just what I do.  Sheesh – just writing that I want to write more honestly makes me nervous!  This will be be a process, folks – bear (and bare?) with me.

I’ve said it before – I really, really love traditions.  And I especially love sharing those traditions with close friends, our “Seattle family”, watching our relationships change and grow from year to year.  I also love a good party, paired with copious amounts of chocolate and cheese, so when our annual c-group fondue party rolls around each year, I am pumped.  And this year certainly did not disappoint.

We made one minor modification this time around and changed our “post-fondue 5k” to a “pre-fondue 5k”, so the festivities kicked off yesterday morning, when the tried and true met at Seward Park and set off on our 3-mile loop.  The guys left La Verne and I in their dust, but we were alright with that, as we enjoyed a good chat on our leisurely jog.  We spent awhile goofing off at the beach after the run with some photo silliness (we have all decided that Jack’s should win an award for his in-air camera poses), and then headed over to Empire Espresso to kick off our day-long calorie-fest with lattes and waffles.

(photo by Jack)

After a lazy afternoon, we gussied up and headed over to Jack and La Verne’s for the big party.  Shane and I took part in a friendly dual with Jason and Nance over who could make the more exquisite cheese fondue, and after much banter and taste-testing, we ultimately decided to call it a tie.  It’s tough to be super-discerning when you’re giddy with the goodness of wine-infused melted cheese.  However, Jason wins hands-down for best pose for a fondue ad – he could be Gruyere’s poster-child with a gaze like this…

or not…

The evening was pure bliss, full of so much food, drink, and laughter.

The fondue party wouldn’t be complete without our annual white elephant gift exchange.  There are a couple of particularly desirable gifts that pop up year after year – like this crystal-framed kinda-scary photo of Lee.  Jason is laughing on the outside, but inside he’s thinking, “Crap.  Where can I stash this for a year?”

Our active rendition of the Twelve Days of Christmas is another old favorite.  Jack kept his role as the guitar-playing “goose a-laying”, and Daniel killed it with his improv version of the “Piper Piping”.

We ended the night with a little Kinect dance party, and finally made our way home just as the cheese-and-chocolate coma began to set in.  What a night…  Cheers, friends – already looking forward to next year.

(photos by La Verne)

When I first moved to Seattle over six years ago, I prayed that I’d find girlfriends here that I could come to know and love and count on through thick and thin; God heard me loud and clear and slowly but surely brought a group of really fabulous women into my life. And I’ve been loving my ladies somethin’ fierce these days, with lots of extra-special girl-fests popping up on the calendar. I was sitting in a movie theater with several friends last weekend, and as we all rolled our eyes (translation: gaped, open-mouthed) and giggled (translation: swooned) together over the latest Twilight movie, I wondered how I got so lucky. It was just so…good for my soul to take part in an all-out ladies night, to sit around a dinner table and share in deep, meaningful conversation, then head to a movie and be silly and young together.

I can’t ever get enough of these gals, which is why I proposed a little a getaway sans husbands to Nancy and La V a few weeks ago. It took all of three seconds to convince them we were due for a night away together, and so we promptly booked a room at the Willows Lodge in Woodinville, scheduled our massages, packed our bags with chick flicks and nail polish and junk food, and yesterday at noon, we were off. It. was. heaven. From the minute we set foot in our room and watched Nancy take a flying leap onto one of the big, fluffy beds, we knew we were in for something good. I think we would have been happy just to put our pajamas on mid-afternoon and hole up for the next 24 hours, but we all had appointments at the lodge’s spa, so we headed back out for our massages and a good, long soak in the whirlpool. Feeling super-relaxed and sufficiently prune-like, we headed back to the room, again thinking we’d be happy to put our pajamas on and call it a night, but instead decided to head down to the hotel bar, where we enjoyed a light dinner, fire-side. The rest of the night was filled with pedicures, Reese’s peanut butter cups, and chick flicks back at the room. I’m pretty sure I fell asleep with a smile on my face last night – could have been the massage, or it could have been Ryan Gosling’s performance in The Notebook, but I’m pretty sure it was actually the time with my girls that had me so giddy. This morning was full of more lazy goodness, with breakfast in bed while we watched Little Women, thoughtfully debating which March sister each of us resembled the most, but ultimately deciding it didn’t matter- we really just wanted to end up with Laurie. Check-out time was at noon, and we grudgingly rolled our bags out the door at 12:01, feeling a little bummed that our epic little getaway had come to an end, but certain that there would be more of these in the future.

Loving on this chilly Fall weekend…

Classical music:  We’ve visited the two different symphonies over the past two weekends, and for the first time in recent memory, I heard the music, and I really, really dug it.  Maybe Rachmaninoff and Tchaikovsky are acquired tastes, like wine or coffee – and as was the case after countless glasses of Cabernet and mugs of hot lattes, I think I’m making progress in appreciating the finer things in life.

Boots:  I’ve officially tucked anything sandal-like back into the deep recesses of my closet, and my new black riding boots are getting lots of play these days.  At the risk of sounding much more practical than fashionable, I’ll admit that what I love more than anything is the fact that I can wear my thick, cozy socks with them.  It’s amazing when comfort and style converge in a perfect pair of shoes, isn’t it?

Art books:  I’ve recently added a few new ones to my bookshelf and am really, really loving this collection of works by Yves Klein.  Shane and I saw a big exhibit of his work when we were in Minneapolis last winter, and I haven’t been able to get the image of his ‘fire paintings‘ out of my head since.

Big pots of hearty soup:  Sunday has become soup day in our house.  Which means Monday, and Tuesday, and sometimes Wednesday are soup days as well (which means less ‘cereal days’, which is a good thing)…

Adios, weekend…  And hello, three-day work week – woot!

Yes, it’s been awhile since I gave this old blog some love – work has been pretty all-consuming for the past couple weeks, which meant that many of my favorite pastimes have fallen by the wayside.  I haven’t blogged in a couple of weeks, I haven’t read anything other than emails and excerpts from the building code, and I’m in danger of completely forgetting the combination to my gym lock.  But finally, the drawings are out the door, the deadline has been met, and after a day-long, crazy-good stress detox, I am back.  I set yesterday aside as a me-day (kind of a ‘Treat Yo-Self 2011’ for all you Parks and Rec fans) – no work, no chores, just true R and R.  I woke up late, I spent awhile reading at a cozy little table while enjoying a buttermilk biscuit and latte from Macrina, I booked a massage and simultaneously cringed and sighed as the masseuse worked the knots out of my shoulders, and I spent an hour wandering through the mall, enjoying the Holiday displays and running my fingers over stacks of thick, cozy sweaters.  I had moments where I thought, “I should check my work email”, or “I shouldn’t spend money on a massage when I have Christmas gifts to buy”, but ultimately decided that I had earned the right to be completely self-indulgent, so I shrugged my jello-y shoulders, dug into the box of chocolate-peanut butter goodies that Shane’s mom sent us, and reveled in the feeling of guilt-free relaxation.  I remember the first time I heard the words “mental health” day – I laughed a little, because it just sounded so…subjective, and kinda hippy-dippy.  But after seeing what a day off can do to take away the crazy, I’m a believer.  I lived life in the slow lane, and let me tell you, I’ll be keeping the pedal off the metal for as long as humanly possible.

After a hectic week of work travel and deadline-ing back at the office, then scurrying around at home to get our bags packed and the house cleaned (I’m kind of neurotic about pre-vacation housekeeping), we. are. off! And praise God, ’cause we need this getaway. Shane and I are both feeling dog-tired right about now. I’ve been focused on trying to prepare for the trip properly, wanting to make sure we see the best museums and eat at the best restaurants and speak the right language, but now, what I want more than anything from this vacation is deep, quality, life-giving rest. If this means skipping a round of cocktails to turn in early, so be it. If we decide to pass on the Louvre for the sake of spending an afternoon reading in a cafe, that’s a-ok with me. Then again, maybe there’s rejuvenation to be found in liquor and art – I’m just committing to making sure the want-to’s take priority over the should-do’s. We’ll see where the Dutch winds blow us (the forecast for Amsterdam is 30 mph winds and rain, so this isn’t just a metaphor!). I’ll report from the other side of the pond – a bientot…

When I boarded my plane to Paris 8 years ago to begin my 10 months of studying abroad, I had only a handful of French words and phrases under my belt. I knew the days of the week and the words for bank, bathroom, and bread, and I think I could conjugate ‘etre’ and ‘avoir’, but that was the extent of it. I spent the entire flight from California flipping through my French/English dictionary, rehearsing the conversation I expected to have with my new landlords, piecing together questions like ‘when is the rent due?’ and ‘where do I take the trash out?’. Thankfully, I had a couple of French-speaking classmates that were already in Paris and offered to help me through this first true encounter with the language barrier, but once my check-in was squared away and they headed back to their place, I remember sitting alone in my tiny little studio apartment and thinking, Oh. Mon. Dieu. I was in way over my head. Especially considering I had to spend the first couple of weeks in Paris running from office to office to get my student visa, which I needed to set up my French bank account, which I needed to set up my French phone line, which I needed to be able to call Shane and hear the sweet sound of English being spoken. I would wait in lines with my French dictionary clutched in my sweaty hands, praying that they wouldn’t ask me anything that would force me to deviate from my carefully prepared script of questions and responses. That said, this crash course in the French language forced me to become proficient within my first few months there. And while I never realized my dream of truly speaking as the French do, I learned how to hold my own. And it felt magnifique.

With our trip to France just a few days away, I’ve dusted off the old French workbook and have been spending my evenings making use of my Rosetta Stone access pass. And holy cow, I’ve fallen way off the wagon. I’m slowly picking things back up, but there have been bouts of shouting with the computer during the speaking portion of the lessons, when the computer rejects my pronunciation and I yell ‘Ecoutez-moi! That’s what I said!’. Yes, I certainly won’t be chatting it up with any Frenchies in their native tongue while on our trip, but I do intend to order our carafe of wine in French. And maybe catch a snippet or two of conversation from the table next to us. And I’ve made certain that I can say ‘Un pain au chocolat, s’il vous plait’ flawlessly. What else does one need, really?