little black journal

Since I failed to get a card in the mail on time, this post will have to serve as my Father’s Day ode.  I have been blessed with a wonderful father – to recount the lessons he’s taught me and the experiences we’ve shared would take days, but I’d like to say a huge thank you to him for all he has done for me.  I’m thankful for the daddy-daughter dates we used to share when I was a little girl and he’d take me out for ice cream sundaes or bowling; I’m thanking him for the way that he knew just when to let go of the seat of my pink and green Huffy when I first learned how to ride a bike; I’m thankful for the time that he put into coaching my softball team and taking me to tour colleges during my Junior year of high school; I’m thankful that he was there to walk me down the aisle on my wedding day, for his composure as I felt those pre-wedding jitters and for his tenderness as we cried tears of joy together when the ceremony was over.  I’m eternally grateful that I have two parents that have time and again demonstrated the importance of faithfulness to God and commitment to your family.  I am blessed.  And so, Happy Father’s Day, Dad.  I’ve got a huge dark chocolate bar and a tin full of oatmeal raisin cookies with your name on it.

Exactly ten years ago today, Shane drove over to my house in his bright blue Dodge Neon and picked me up for our very first date.  We went to the movies and saw Notting Hill, then grabbed milkshakes at a little restaurant down the street from the theater.  I remember feeling relieved that conversation flowed so easily between us, thinking that Shane was really cute, wondering if he was going to kiss me goodnight as our evening together came to an end.  He did not kiss me, which I appreciated as the sign of a gentleman, but he did call me the next day and ask if I’d like to go out again.  Yes, please!  We spent much of that summer together, watching movies in my living room while my dad waited up and kept a distant eye on us from the kitchen, wanting to make sure this new guy in my life wasn’t up to no good.  We went out and shot pool at the local pool hall, played miniature golf at the little amusement park, and drove out to Turlock Lake to walk along the water and escape the heat.  And then, as Summer came to an end, the very first questions about our future together arose.  Shane was due to return to Minnesota when his internship was over,  so I began to prepare myself for saying good-bye.  But when he was offered a full-time job in California, he decided that his days as a Minnesotan were over, much to his family’s surprise.  He stayed in town, and we stayed together.  Then I began my senior year of high school, and started applying to colleges three or four hours away from home, and more questions about our relationship came to light.  Did I really want to get involved with someone, knowing that I would be going away and starting a totally new phase of my life in the Fall?  Would I be missing out on some part of my final year of high school by dating someone who had already completed that part of his life, who didn’t know my friends, or care about our school’s football team, or want to go to high school parties or dances?  Shane and I did keep seeing each other throughout that year, but I was cautious.  I kept my heart under lock and key.  When he first told me he loved me, my response was, “No, you can’t.”  Ouch, that must have hurt him.  But I had never been serious with anyone before, and I found it hard to tread through these unfamiliar waters.  Thankfully, patience is one of Shane’s strongest virtues, and he gave me time and space to figure out what I wanted for our relationship.  And one year after our first date, I told him that I loved him.  I would be leaving for Cal Poly in September, and the thought of having a long-distance boyfriend was scary, but I knew that this guy was just too good to let go.  We decided to give it a try.  Shane put a lot of miles on his car during those few years, frequently making the 200-mile trip down to San Luis Obispo, and I went through a lot of calling cards as we spent endless hours on the phone.  It was hard at times, but we got through the hard times and reveled in the good times.  We were making it work, and I was falling deeper in love.  But during my fourth year of college, when I was studying in Paris, those pesky questions about our future began to arise again.  Shane came to visit me in May of 2004, and I was ecstatic to see him.  Being in Paris with the man you love is enough to put anyone on Cloud 9.  But then, one afternoon as we were sitting along the Seine, talking and dangling our feet near the river, Shane threw me for a loop when he reached into his pocket, pulled out the most beautiful diamond ring I’d ever seen, and asked me to be his wife.  To say that I panicked would be an understatement.  Yes, of course I loved this thoughtful, generous, wonderful man, but was I really ready to commit to forever?  I had spent the previous eight months living alone in Europe, embracing my independence and freedom.  Marriage was not at the forefront of my mind.  And so my answer was, “I can’t answer you right now.”  Double-ouch.  Shane was hurt, and my heart broke as I saw his heart breaking.  But I just knew that I wasn’t in a place where I could make that kind of commitment.  The next year was a tough one, as we both wrestled with discerning God’s plan for our relationship.  I kept waiting for that moment everyone talks about when “you just know”.  It didn’t come.  And although Shane is patient, that question can only be kept on the table for so long.  I had been offered a job up in Seattle and knew that the indecision timer was running out.  Finally, after much praying and talking and counseling and growing, I decided to take a leap of faith, and in July of 2005 I asked Shane to please put that pretty little ring on my finger.  We got married the following May, and now, a couple of weeks after our third wedding anniversary, here we are.  And “here” is a very good place to be.  Bit by bit, I have given my heart to this man, and he has treated it unbelievably well.  So, cheers to our first of many decades together – can’t wait to see what the next ten years will look like.

This weekend was proof that summertime is just around the corner, as I enjoyed: slicing into a perfectly juicy watermelon; taking in a Sunday afternoon baseball game; seeing our little front yard garden grow by the hour; drinking several glasses of chilled white wine; jogging along sparkling Lake Washington; barbecuing in the backyard with neighbors; waking up each morning and opening all the windows in the house; wearing tank tops and flip flops; reveling in the feel of sunshine on my shoulders.  ‘Tis the season for all these warm weather pleasures.

Unfortunately, ’tis also the season for busy-ness, with long hours at work and weekends spent preparing for my next licensing exam.  But I will certainly be taking time to stop and smell the spider mums…  (Flowers courtesy of Shane.)

Every year, our church gives each community group a certain amount of money and a simple urging to “bless your neighbors”.  Our group threw lots of ideas around during our Tuesday night get-togethers, and when somebody mentioned the struggle of Nickelsville, a large Seattle homeless camp, in their mission for a land grant, I think several of us felt our heart strings being tugged. No, we didn’t have the funds to provide them with the property or the shelter they need, but we could certainly stretch our dollars and give of our time to provide them with a hot breakfast and a few hours of company.  And so we were up at the crack of dawn this morning, elbow deep in pancake batter, to begin preparations for a breakfast to feed 75+ people.  And at 8:30, we all rolled up to the South Seattle church which has allowed Nickelsville to temporarily set up camp in their adjacent empty lot.  Our trunks were laden with 300 pancakes and slices of bacon, a couple hundred sausage links, bags of fresh fruit, and 2 large jugs of coffee.  I will admit that I was anxious as I got out of the car, not knowing what to expect.  Would they be receptive to outsiders such as ourselves?  What could I possibly talk to them about?  Shame on me for my fear and anxiety. These people are not so different from us.  They are men and women that have lost jobs and been unable to pay mortgages, people that haven’t been able to find work or have faced illnesses or injuries that have knocked them off their feet, and they don’t want to be a burden to family members or friends.  Particularly in economic times such as these, circumstances like these aren’t so hard to imagine.  And the openness, gratefulness, and graciousness of this community far exceeded anything I could have expected.  We showed up at Nickelsville this morning with the intention to bless these people that have faced struggles beyond what we can understand.  But as is often the case, as I strove to bless them, I found blessings being lavished upon me in return.  Each story, each smile, each “thank you” struck at my core, and reminded me of the importance of sharing God’s love and provision.  As we were getting ready to leave, one man tapped me on the shoulder and asked me to pray for him.  He has been seven months clean from a heroin addiction, but still struggles with temptation and “could use all the prayers he could get”.  As I laid my hand on his arm and prayed that he would find God’s strength and protection, I was struck by the power of the human spirit as common ground.  Yes, this man and I have had very different life experiences, but at our cores, we are both humans, we are both sinners in desperate need of God’s grace.

And so I am infinitely grateful for what took place this morning.  I am thankful for our church, who cares deeply about the homeless community and continually encourages us to stop averting our eyes.  I am thankful for our c-group, which is full of people that are constantly amazing me with their talents, their faith, and their generosity.  These people really have become our Seattle family.  And I am thankful for the warmth and the grace of the people of Nickelsville, as they opened my eyes to their “realness” and struggles.  Please keep this amazing group of people in your prayers.

Our bags are packed, our reservations are confirmed, our batteries are charged, and tomorrow we leave for Paris.  I’ve looked forward to this trip for the last 4 years, and so the thought that we are actually going still makes my head spin and my heart flutter.  Is it really possible that in less than 48 hours, I will be roaming the streets of the most beautiful city in the world?  This city is home to some of my fondest memories – it is where I fell in love with art, it is where I acquired a taste for espresso, it is where huge seeds of confidence and independence were planted in my soul.  I’ve been reading through some of the old journals I kept while I was in Paris 5 years ago, picking out names of my favorite cafes and art galleries, and tonight I came across this entry, written on July 4, 2004, my last day abroad:

“45 minutes before I leave for the airport.  Am wandering around in a bit of daze, not wanting to come to terms with the fact that my year in Paris is about to become a memory.  Am sipping a cafe creme, looking out over Place de la Bastille, trying to muster up some excitement about returning to the familiarity of home.  I’ve had to say good-bye to people I love before, but never really to a place.  Not sure how to do it.  Can’t very well give Paris a big hug, wave, and say, “I’ll call you when I get home”.  Can say, “see you later”, though.  Alors, a bientot et merci.  Tu vas me manquer…”

And so “later” has arrived!  The best part about it?  This time Shane comes with me.  As much as I cherished my time in Paris, the fact that we were apart often kept me from fully embracing my experiences abroad.  I can definitely be a bit of a loner, but I really do believe it’s so much better to share a place so beautiful with someone you love.  So cheers to a much-anticipated, well-deserved, totally romantic get-away.  Ciao.

I struck another item off the list today when I finished the Mercer Island 10k.  Now don’t let the title of this post fool you – “victory” does not signify any sort of record-breaking time.  It just means that I was able to run (translation: jog) the entire race without having to stop at all to catch my breath.  I was able to hang with the “recreation runners” and ended up finishing ahead of a little more than half the women there.  Shane ran too and did really well – he has become quite the hardcore runner these days.  Despite the sense of dread that set in last night at the thought of having to get up early and run in the rain, I am so glad we did this.  I’m proud of us, and it’s nice to feel like I’ve earned my Sunday afternoon nap and bowl of ice cream!  I have been asked by a couple of friends to run a half-marathon with them in June, but I’m remaining non-committal at this point – my jello-legs are telling me that it would have been impossible to run two of these 10k’s back-to-back.  Maybe with enough training – we’ll see…

I realize that my entries to this blog have been disappointingly sparse lately – allow me to explain (as much for the sake of me organizing my own thoughts and priorities as for the sake of allowing you all to understand what I’ve been up to).  My plate is full these days.  February has been an exceptionally busy month.  It started with a weekend trip to Portland to visit family, followed by a trip to California one week later to catch up with old friends.  Both getaways were much needed and well worth my time, but I find that I’m still kind of playing catch-up, since weekends are usually my chance to check things off my to-do list.  My days in Seattle since have been filled with studying for my next licensing exam (the mechanical, electrical and plumbing portion – *yawn*); planning our quickly-approaching trip to Europe; attempting to relearn the French language in preparation for said trip (shame on me for all that I’ve forgotten in the past five years!); trying to finish the book for my upcoming book club meeting this Saturday; training for the 10k race that we’re scheduled to run in March; squeezing in an occasional sketch or artistic exercise here and there; pulling together items for an on-line shop I’d like to get going; and struggling to maintain a clean house and a well-stocked fridge (at this, I have failed miserably).  On top of this, my regular weekly commitments are a big priority, like our Tuesday night get-togethers with friends from church (thank God for this mid-week chance to relax with these people who have become our Seattle family); art class on Thursday nights; and teaching Sunday school on Sunday mornings.  Work has been fairly busy the past couple of weeks as well, which means occasionally staying late and skipping my lunch-time study sessions.  And so, here I am: Whew!  Feeling overwhelmed, but grateful that at least my to-do list is filled with things that I genuinely enjoy doing (minus the studying) – I love spending a Saturday afternoon reading or doodling in my sketchbook.  If only I had more Saturday afternoons!  So bear with me, as this blog takes a bit of a hit while I get all my ducks in a row.

p.s.  Major thanks to Shane for doing whatever he can to lighten my load.  The dishes you wash, the trips you make to pick me up from the gym, and the constant encouragement you offer does not go unnoticed.

It’s true.  I want a puppy.  What began as a fun idea has turned into a bit of an obsession lately, as I’ve been browsing the Internet, looking at pictures of all these furry little bundles of joy.  I’ve narrowed my search to non-shedding or low-shedding breeds and am really drawn to Schnauzers and certain types of Terriers (check out this adorable Soft-Coated Wheaten Terrier – image courtesy of here).

Shane is resistant to the idea, to say the least, and I really can’t argue when he says that it isn’t fair to expect a dog to be cooped up alone for 10 hours a day while we’re at work, but, selfish as it sounds, I WANT A PUPPY!  I’ve looked at other pet alternatives, but cats are out of the question, since Shane and several of our friends are allergic, and I’ve never been cut out for cat lady-hood anyhow.  Goldfish are no fun, hamsters are too rodent-like, and those robot-dogs have lost their novelty.  I love the thought of having a little tail-wagging pup waiting for us when we get home in the evenings.  I even don’t mind the thought of having to walk him daily, rain or shine.  I’ve always envied all of those proud dog-owners that do their regular loops around Seward Park.  Now, the thought of dog poop on the carpet or chewed-up furniture scares me a little, but I’m hopeful that with the right training, we can avoid too many of those disasters.  Yes, I’ve got it all figured out, minus the whole working 40+ hours a week thing…  So, what to do?  Be patient, I guess.  Wait until we have a house with a fenced-in yard or until one of us isn’t working full-time.  In the meantime, I’ll have to content myself with my pathetic bouts of Internet puppy-stalking.  *Sigh.*

I received one of my most special packages ever in the mail yesterday.  Since my grandmother’s passing last year, my family back on the east coast has been slowly going through her things, setting aside certain items for each family member.  I received two boxes yesterday filled with treasures that exceeded any hopes I had for having something special to remember Nannie by.

This scarf was probably my favorite item in the box.  It was neat that as I called my parents yesterday to tell them what I had received, and as I described this jade green paisley silk scarf, my dad knew exactly the item I was talking about – he could picture Nannie wearing it.

These wine glasses were a wedding gift for my grandparents.  They were married for over 60 years, which means that these glasses are decades older than anything else we have in our kitchen cabinets.  They are so beautifully delicate and “antique”.  They are unlike anything I would ever pick out for myself and yet, somehow, they are perfectly my style.  I look forward to sharing a special bottle of wine, poured in these glasses, next time our family is together.

This is a brooch that Nannie wore often – the epitome of my grandmother’s elegance and grace.  I wore it today to brunch with some girlfriends and felt instantly classier the second I pinned it on.

As I look at these heirlooms, I can’t help but wonder, “What do Shane and I own that will be passed onto our family for generations?”  Our wedding registry consisted mostly of basic kitchen necessities from Crate and Barrel, and it seems that we’ll probably outlast our Ikea furniture.  For the most part, I’m okay with this – I’m glad that we have chosen to minimize our possessions, to keep a simple home.  But it would be nice to have those two or three extra-special objects that our children or grandchildren would cherish one day.  A friend reminded me today that traveling is a perfect opportunity to pick up something that has memory and meaning behind it, so I’ll soon be combing the streets of Paris for that special vase or necklace.  Yes, I like that idea…

Ooooohhh, yesterday was a rough day.  I went to bed around the usual time on Sunday night, fell asleep within 30 seconds of putting my head on the pillow, and then awoke to feelings of uncomfortable nausea around 2 am.  Discomfort quickly turned into pain and by 4 am, I was running to the bathroom and emptying my stomach.  So glad that I scrubbed the toilet and the bathroom floors on Saturday, because I spent the much of the next 6 hours laying on the cool tile of our bathroom floor, hoping with each bout of gagging that it would soon be over.  Was it the slightly undercooked chicken I ate for dinner the night before?  Had I picked up the flu from someone?  Whatever the reason, I felt terrible.  I spent the entire day in bed, doing whatever I could to make myself comfortable, which wasn’t much.  Fever and achy-ness set in around 4 pm to add to my misery.  Thank God Shane had yesterday off of work.  He gets a gold star for nursing his whiny, sick wife back to health.  He did whatever he could to make me feel better – setting up the computer in bed so that I could watch a movie, rubbing my back as I tried to fall asleep, monitoring my fluid intake to make sure I avoided dehydration, even baking me applesauce muffins when that was the only thing that sounded good to me (and baking is not one of Shane’s favorite pastimes).  I don’t know what I would have done yesterday without him.  Today I was at about 80% – well enough to go into work, though there were times today when I was tempted to crawl under my desk and take a nap.  I hope to be back in full force tomorrow.

The really fantastic thing is that now I know that Shane can bake – I’ll be taking advantage of this little tidbit in the future…