little black journal

I guess the Schnells are one year closer to becoming an old married couple, as May 20th marked our fourth anniversary.  Lucky for me, Shane was feeling exceptionally romantic and booked us an overnight getaway in a secret location – my only instructions were to meet him at the ferry terminal at noon on Thursday.  His plans were revealed as we boarded the Bainbridge Island boat – he had reserved us a night at a little cottage tucked away on the island.  It felt nice to look back at the Seattle skyline with my husband, to know that we were cruising away from work, from the house, and from the daily grind, so that we could spend the next 24 hours focusing on each other.  We were due for some ‘us’ time.

Any good getaway includes plenty of indulgent food, so after fish ‘n chips and beer at the Harbour Public House, we zipped right over to Mora for ice cream.  They have 48 flavors there.  My lifelong dream is to try them ALL.  Post-ice cream, we headed over to Fort Ward Park for a little afternoon nature walk.  The sun was shining, the wind was whispering the trees, the woods were rich with just about every imaginable shade of green, and so the stage was set for a perfectly sappy hand-in-hand anniversary stroll.  Lovely.  A snake temporarily startled me out of my bliss, but he seemed much more interested in the slug he was trying to devour than he was in us, so we continued on our way.

After our walk, we were ready to check into our cottage, crack open a bottle of wine, and spend the rest of the afternoon relaxing.  Our accommodations were perfect – cozy, quiet, and nestled in among the trees…  Ten minutes there, and I was ready to move in.

We had a fabulous dinner at Agate Pass, and after a spontaneous 20-minute detour to check out the casino we passed on the way back to our place (I won $15 at my first slot machine and decided to quit while I was ahead), we were ready to call it a night.  Turning in at 10 pm is another sure sign that we’re on our way to becoming an old married couple.

Sleeping in is also a crucial part of a good getaway, and so we did just that on Friday morning, rolling out of bed in time to devour the delicious homemade breakfast that was delivered to our door.  Fresh-baked scones and French-press coffee, enjoyed from a little table next to a window that looks out into the forest?  Yes, please!  I really was enamored with the woods – ferns and moss and green, green trees as far as the eye can see.  I can feel myself becoming more and more of a Northwestern-er every day.

And then it was time to bid the island farewell and cruise back toward Seattle.  And yes, that means heading back to work, and the house, and the daily grind, but it also means heading home with the man I love.  Candles and wine and afternoon walks in the woods are all good things, but I suppose there’s also romance to be found in an evening spent on the couch together watching a baseball game, or a quick kiss good-bye on our way out the door in the morning.  So until May 20th rolls around again, I will be savoring the goodness of the day-in, day-out, which is really what’s gotten us through the last four years, and will carry us through the next forty.

On one of our last days in Sayulita, we received the sad news that Shane’s grandmother in Pennsylvania had passed away on Tuesday morning.  We quickly made travel arrangements to hop on a plane out to the east coast as soon as we returned to Seattle on Thursday evening.  We arrived in Baltimore on Friday morning, tired but thankful to be able to share this time of mourning with family.  The weekend was a whirlwind of services and family get-togethers, but through all the busy-ness, everyone found time to honor and remember Grace in their own special way.  She had been ill for some time, and although the family seemed accepting that this was her time to go, the loss was still very strongly felt – Shane’s mom was saying good-bye to her one-and-only mother; Shane and his sister were parting with a grandmother that had loved and nurtured them for years.  The night before the funeral, I spent some time at the hotel with Shane, his sister, and his parents, listening to them compose the eulogy that would be delivered the following day.  I sat on that couch for hours as they shared dozens of stories about the kind of wife, mother, and grandmother Grace had been.  Through tears and through laughter, I caught a glimpse of the kind of life this amazing woman had lived.  I wish I had known her when she was well.  She has left behind a legacy of very special children and grandchildren.

On Sunday, before heading out of town, we spent some time in the Pennsylvania countryside, taking in the beauty of a misty morning out among the fields.  Shane’s uncle had given us directions to an old covered bridge, and we eventually wound our way out to this amazing 160 year-old wooden structure, nestled into this quiet little patch of woods where bluebells bloomed along the banks of the river.  It felt like a scene out of Anne of Green Gables, as I walked among the wildflowers and gazed up at the bright green branches of newly leafed trees.  Lovely.

Since my dad’s family lives in the Baltimore area, we decided to head there on Sunday evening, for a quick visit before our Monday evening flight back to Seattle.  En route to Baltimore, we stopped in Washington, D.C. for a short bout of sightseeing, but I’ll save our 2-hour tour-de-monuments for another post – for now, I’ll just say that armed with his iPhone, Shane makes one heck of a tour guide.

Even on short notice, my aunt was able to rally the Jarrell troops and Shane and I were able to see all of my aunts and uncles in our short time there, as well as spend a couple of hours visiting with my Grandaddy.  I would have loved to have more time with them all, but I’m thankful for the couple of meals that we did have the chance to share together.  This was the first time I had visited Baltimore since my grandmother, Nannie, passed away a couple of years ago, and her absence was very evident.  Family gatherings are not, nor will they ever be, the same without her.  I was reminded again and again this weekend that family should never be taken for granted – every moment should be cherished, every memory tucked away in a special place.

It’s no secret that I like to shop.  A lot.  It’s partly the lure of new and shiny things, but it’s also about the satisfaction I get from sniffing out and taking advantage of a good deal.  My weakness for a bargain can certainly get me into trouble (in Shane’s words, ‘you still have to spend money to save money…’), and I will admit to being suckered into plenty of stuff I don’t need, but I’m slowly getting better with the virtue of restraint.  That said, I’ve come across a few pretty little steals that I am just too proud of not to share.

These cute little flats caught my eye at DSW a few months ago, but at $60, I passed.  Then I popped into the store a couple of weeks ago (just to browse, of course), and saw them on the clearance rack.  For $50.  With a 70% off sticker.  Plus I had a coupon for $10 off any item.  Bringing the grand total to…five whoppin’ dollars.  Try to beat that.

Fast forward to last weekend, when my mom and dad were in town for a visit.  My mom is a self-declared thrift store maven, so when I mentioned that I needed to run over to Goodwill to drop off a donation, she readily volunteered to ride along with me.  I knew we were in store for more than just a drop-off, and I was in the mood to do a little digging, so we made a shopping excursion out of it.  I spent most of my time in the book section, perusing the paperbacks, when I saw the sign for art books.  I didn’t expect to find much, since the good art books in most used book stores are often pretty picked over, but I decided to check it out, and the clean, crisp cover of this contemporary art compilation called my name.  479 large glossy pages of arty goodness.  The book wasn’t marked with a price, other than the $45 retail price printed on the jacket, but I hoped I might be able to walk out of the store with it for less than $10.  I brought it the counter, the cashier looked for a price tag, didn’t find one, raised her eyebrows at me, and asked, $2.99?  Ummmm, yes, please!

The value of my last good find is debatable, since I’m still waiting to reap the benefits of my deal, but today we got a good chunk of our vegetable garden started, planted with seeds that I picked up from Lowe’s for roughly $1 per packet.  In roughly two months, we could have a planter full of beets, carrots, lettuce, and kale.  And do you know how expensive produce can be?  Let alone organic, locally grown veggies.  So if even half of my seeds result in anything edible, we’ll have scored the deal of the season.  Keeping my fingers crossed on this one…

Call me frugal, call me cheap, call me whatever you want – I find no shame in being the girl with the $5 shoes eating food picked from her own backyard!

Yes, I have been a bit absent lately – I gave this ol’ blog a big heap of makeover love, then I up and left it.  Haven’t felt much like posting lately.  Truth is, I have been stuck in the midst my quarterly (semi-annual if I’m lucky) F-U-N-K.  I’ve been generally kind of ‘ick’ over the last couple of weeks.  We had a nice Easter weekend with my parents, but even as I enjoyed their company, I wasn’t fully present.  Work has been tough, with some disappointments and frustrations, my body refuses to shake this mucus-y bug that has been buggin’ me for over a week now, I haven’t done any art-ing since coming down off the high of my encaustic workshop, and Shane and I have been exceptionally snippy with one another.  And my mojo is totally lost when he and I aren’t clicking.  There haven’t been any major blow-outs (ok, there have been one or two big blow-outs), but what drains me more than any sort of fighting is a general inability for us to really connect.  I’ve felt it for several days, but I’ve had so much self-indulgent satisfaction wallowing in my funk that I haven’t made any effort to get us back on track.  And unfortunately, Shane’s been under the weather, too, and hasn’t felt driven to steer the ship back towards the marital ‘bliss’ that we usually enjoy.  Boo.

But today, the clouds parted.  I don’t know if it’s the thought that we leave for Mexico in a week, or the fact that my work situation seems to be on the upswing, or simply that I realized today how tired I was of having a roommate rather than a husband, but we had a really good night together, and I am revived.  We didn’t do anything special, just cooked dinner together, watched a little tv, then sat on the couch and talked for a couple of hours.  And once again, things feel like they’re supposed to.  I have my best friend back.  Yes, surely we’ll derail again at some point in the future, but that’s ok.  We’ll get over it.  ‘Cause there’s really no other way.

My super-intense, super-awesome encaustic workshop ended on Monday (stay tuned for more on that later), and then it was back to work on Tuesday, where I was thrown into the flurry of working toward a Friday deadline.  And so by the time 6:00 rolled around today, I was beat.  Thankfully, Shane, in his infinite wisdom, knew that I would be in dire need of a beer and some chill time, so when I made it out of the office, he had already staked out a table for us at Six Arms and ordered me a pint of Ruby (their tasty raspberry ale).  Aaaaahhhh, hallelujah for weekends!  We had a fabulous evening together, toasting to Friday at our favorite old hang-out, and then sharing a demi-pichet (half-pitcher) of Beaujolais and a plate of steak frites at Cafe Presse.  Yep, it just don’t get much better than this:

The funky, eclectic vibe of Six Arms:

This lovely man:

And a glass of wine over candlelight:

Cheers and bon nuit.  Happy weekend!

After what felt like a long work week, we declared Saturday a day of relaxation and indulgence.  There are few things I love more than having the freedom to spend a Saturday any which way we please.  And so indulgence number one came in the form of a latte and a pain au chocolat from Cafe Besalu – a small bakery/cafe in Ballard known for their deliciously buttery breakfast treats.  I truly believe chocolate croissants are one of God’s greatest gifts to mankind, and this one had to have been picked out especially for me from the Big Guy himself.  So light and flaky, rich and buttery, perfectly…perfect.  Yum.

Post-pastries, we hopped back in the car, and before Shane had even pulled away from the curb, I was thinking about how nice it would be to head home, get back into my pajamas, and spend the day cozied up on the couch.  My husband, however, had other plans, and decided that since our breakfast mission had been completed, he was ready for lunch and wanted to swing by Safeco Field to check out ‘Mobile Food Chowdown’ – a one-day-only gathering of Seattle’s and Portland’s best food carts.  In his defense, he had run 8 miles earlier that morning, so I obliged, thinking I could maybe make room in my stomach for a good taco or a small slice of pizza.  Unfortunately, by the time we arrived at the scene, the lines were already unbearably long for several of the carts, but Shane scored a tasty little burger from Skillet, and I waited in line for 45 minutes for an order of fries from Portland’s ‘Potato Champion’.  Yummy, but hardly worth the wait.  Ah, well, it was still a good day to be outside, and I love Pioneer Square on a clear, crisp day.

The rest of the afternoon was spent at home, reading and watching movies, basking in the laziness that was bound to follow such a decadent morning.  Then evening came, and wouldn’t you know it, Nancy, La V, and I had dinner reservations at Lark, which meant: more eating!  Yay!  We ordered plates of creamy cheeses, roasted duck leg, bacon-glazed kale, and ricotta gnudi, and ate ’till we could eat no more.  There was a point in the evening – I think it was as I was dipping my spoon into the dark chocolate mousse, served with white chocolate sorbet – when I thought, “Hmmmm…will I regret this when I’m pulling out my swimsuit for our vacation to Mexico next month?”  Then I tasted the cashew butter that had been spread on the plate right next to the chocolate, and I thought, “Nah.  Totally worth it.”  It was a perfect three-hour meal, full of good food that was only made better by the company of my lovely friends.

And so Saturday Splurge-Fest came to a close.  And once again, all was right with the world.

For years now, I have struggled to find an exercise regime that is both challenging and achievable.  I am a stellar goal-setter, but my follow-through has always been lacking.  However, I think I’ve finally settled into a routine that works for me – run and some kind of weight-training two times a week, and one hour of yoga or pilates at least once a week.  I’ve been on this kick for six months now, and I’m feeling good.  So good, in fact, that I decided I need to step it up just one more notch.  My legs and core are getting the work-out they deserve, but when it comes to arms, I’m all noodle-y.  I’m that girl that gets on one of the lifting machines, sets it to the absolute lowest weight possible, does about four-and-a-half reps while making that squinty ‘this-is-so-hard’ face, wipes my brow, and then heads over to the balance ball or that fantastic obliques/twisty machine.  I get a bit of an arm work out when I do yoga, but spending 10 or 15 minutes in downward-facing dog isn’t cutting it.  I’m still feelin’ weak.  And so, in some act of ambitious insanity, I have decided to do the 100 push-up challenge.  The deal is: follow the schedule for six weeks, and at the end of the training, you should be able to do 100 consecutive push-ups.  Shane is doing it, as well as a couple of different friends of ours, and so I hopped on the bandwagon in hopes of turning my spaghetti arms into lean, mean push-up machines.  Tonight was my first night, and I struggled through my sets of twos and threes, but I did it, with the added challenge of having a husband that likes to watch and critique my push-up form (so you all know I’m not getting away with my usual wimpy knees-down push-ups).  Should I mention that I felt like I strained myself just flexing for this photo?  Seriously, this will be interesting…

Fourteen years ago, I decided in my Freshman ‘Careers and Goals’ class that I wanted to be an architect.  I can’t remember my exact reasoning in choosing this career path (very well might have been as superficial as, ‘oh, that sounds cool…’), but I stuck by my decision and took high school drafting and art classes, in hopes of increasing my chances of getting into a good college architecture program.  Ten years ago, I began my five-year education at California Polytechnic State University (which was recently voted number three among architecture programs in the nation – woot!), embarking on some of the most challenging, most inspiration-filled, most creatively formative years of my life.  Four-and-a-half years ago, I was offered my first real architecture job in Seattle and was put to work building models and drawing details for a large research building in South Lake Union.  Two years ago, I registered for my first architectural licensing exam, and walked into the testing center with my palms sweating and my heart beating about a million times per minute.  Last month I got notice that I had passed my ninth and final exam, and Shane and I jumped up in down in the kitchen as I waved my pass letter around with utter relief.  On Thursday I received my architectural license in the mail, authorizing me to finally, after all these years of learning and growing and working and waiting, officially call myself an ‘Architect’.  Wow, what a journey, filled with so many ups and downs.  There were bumps in the road, when I felt like my brain was going to be rattled right out of my head, and then there were wide open stretches of freeway, when I felt like the world was my oyster.  But I got through it all and am grateful for how the process has grown and refined me.

So…now what?  To be honest, despite the achievement of this milestone, I still have much to learn/do/see/accomplish.  This piece of paper isn’t going to immediately change my life, make my job all that different, or endow me with some kind of designer super-powers – right now, it’s just a piece of paper.  But it’s also validation that I have worked my butt off and officially achieved a goal that I set way back in 1995, when I was sitting in a little classroom in Central California and trying to answer the question ‘what do you want to be when you grow up?’.  And that’s pretty cool.

Today was one of those days when I am indescribably happy to live in Seattle – a couple of reasons why:

Columbia City has a new ice cream shop – it’s called Full Tilt and it serves flavors like horchata, salted caramel, and purple yam, scooped into made-to-order waffle cones.  Deeeeee-lish.

The sun was out today, and we found a perfect little dock in Leschi from which to soak up some rays.

While in Leschi, we discovered that Daniel’s Broiler has a great happy hour – beer, bacon-wrapped scallops, and a killer view of Mount Rainier.  Shane’s face says it all…

On our way home, we swung by our favorite little viewpoint to get one last look at the mountain in all its glory.

After today, Shane is apparently convinced that he wants to live in Seattle forever.  Assuming we can’t find a way to make a living in Paris, I think I might agree.

Shane has this saying that he uses when he hears a song or watches a show that really gets to him – he brings his fist to his chest, squints his eyes, and says, with much emotion, ‘awwww, yeah – this speaks to my soul!’.  It happened the other night when ‘Babe I’m Gonna Leave You’ by Led Zeppelin came on the radio, then again when we watched a particularly poignant episode of Wonder Years.  I love his ability to be deeply affected by music (and I especially love the air guitar solo that usually accompanies such affected-ness), and I often laugh at the way that he can so intensely relate his own experiences to those seen on television (apparently Shane’s growing-up years are reminiscent of Kevin Arnold’s adolescent struggles)…  And so I started thinking: what speaks to my soul?

My first answer for television is easy – we have been rewatching the final season of Six Feet Under, and nearly every single episode has brought me to tears.  And I’m not talking just one glistening drop – the last episode we watched had me doing the full-on heaving, sobbing, uncontrollable ‘ugly cry’.  The writing on this show is brilliant – to the point that I have actually convinced myself that I know the Fisher family and just might run into them next time I’m in L.A.  I wouldn’t say that I really identify with any of the characters (which is probably a good thing, since they are all a little bit (or a lot) crazy), and yet, I am so invested in all of them.  So soul-speakingly good.  Some good friends of ours are also avid fans and we have a date tonight to watch the show’s finale together.  I have been looking forward to it all week – and I will be arriving at their house with my pockets full of Kleenex.

My second choice is slightly less sophisticated, but for the sake of full disclosure, I will admit that I loved Felicity.  It’s true.  I never really watched the show when it was airing on TV, but I rented all of the seasons a few years ago and devoted many hours to following the Felicity-Ben/Felicity-Noel/Felicity-Ben/Felicity-Noel saga.  I’m not going to try to justify my affection for this cheesy adolescent drama, I will just say that for some reason that I’m unable to pinpoint, I adored Felicity, in all her fickleness, and often found myself wanting to be a part of her New York City college experience.  There, I said it.

Now, for music: the first artist that pops into my head is Damien Rice – his album O in particular.  The music is beautiful, but the memories I have associated with it are what really get to me.  I can so clearly remember listening to this album on my iPod as I was riding the Metro to and from French class during my first month in Paris.  Makes me smile, in a longing-for-past-days kind of way.  Proof that sometimes the memories associated with a song are just as moving as the music itself.

Ryan Adams is another favorite – his talent for song-writing is beyond amazing, and his voice is so wonderfully wrought with emotion.  When I’m at work and ‘The Sun Also Sets’ or ‘Oh My Sweet Carolina’ come on my iPod, it’s all I can do to keep from embarrassing myself by belting out the bluesy lyrics.  We saw him at the Paramount a couple of years ago, and it goes down as one of the best shows I’ve ever seen.  I have a hard time picking out a favorite album, but Heartbreaker is the one I’m most recently putting on repeat.

Finally, I can’t complete this list without paying tribute to Smashing Pumpkins.  Turn off your lights, lay on your bed, crank up ‘Disarm’, and you will know what I’m talking about.  When I got my braces off in 8th grade and was asked what color/pattern I wanted my retainer to be, I chose blue plastic with glittery starts and moons, because it reminded me of the album cover of Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness.  How’s that for a fan story?  I played Siamese Dream over and over and over during my freshman year of high school.  Then again during my last year of college.  And now it’s found it’s way onto my playlist once again.  Timeless.

This is the top of my list – what’s at the top of yours?