little black journal

I’m still coming down off a pretty perfect weekend in Portland – we ate, we sun-soaked, we raised our glasses to my brother for his birthday, and best of all, I reveled in some high-quality time with those super-precious nieces of mine.

We kicked off our Portland bonanza at the Saturday Farmer’s Market with Jack and La Verne, who happened to be day-tripping in the city. We laid on the lawn and stuffed ourselves with Italian sausages and the notorious fried chicken/bacon/cheese/fried egg sandwich from Pine State Biscuit (how can something so bad be sooooo good?).  Post-lunch, we stumbled down the aisles in a full-belly haze and picked up a few peaches and cartons of berries, bid farewell to the Chens, and headed over to Mitch’s place.

I prepared myself to find Morgan and Elise much-changed since the last time I saw them, but despite any growth, they turned out to be the same sweet, fun-loving little girls.  Our first stop is always the playground, and Elise was quick to hop and her bike and show Uncle Shane her skills while I watched Morgan go bonkers over the fact that she’s now big enough to climb to the top of the slide and go down it all by herself.

My parents were in town for the weekend and it was a treat to gather around the table and celebrate Mitch and Kathryn’s upcoming birthdays with mojitos, enchiladas, and juicy fruit skewers hot off the grill.  It was like Christmas in July, having the family together.

One more trip to the nearby park on Sunday morning, and then it was time for Shane to head home, all to soon.  I had decided to stay until Monday and take the train back to Seattle, so I settled in for another day of enjoying Portland’s finest (namely, Morgan and Elise).  We read books and stacked blocks and played in the water – never a dull moment…

We spent Sunday evening picnicking at Peninsula Park, enjoying grilled chicken and the free symphony concert.  The rose garden was stunning in the late-day sun, and the sound of so many kids running barefoot through the grass couldn’t have been more quintessentially summer-iffic.

Mitch and Kathryn were back at work Monday morning and my train didn’t leave until 6 pm, so my parents and I packed up the girls and headed out for a little adventure on Sauvie Island.  This little island, just 20 minutes from the city, is home to the best u-pick farm I have ever laid eyes on.  Rows upon rows of raspberries, blueberries, marion berries, peach trees, cabbage, cucumbers, the list goes on and on.  We went right to work – my mom and I grabbed our containers and started on the raspberries with Elise while my dad set out for the blueberry bushes with Morgan.   Elise was a great little helper, although I think she put five berries in her mouth for each one she put in the bin – far be it from me to deny that girl such pure summer pleasure! I checked in with my dad and Morgan and found that it was much the same situation – her belly was looking a little more round than usual with all her expert foraging.  We drove away with quite the bounty of berries and peaches.  At two dollars a pound, I’m calling this the deal of the year!

We grabbed a quick lunch and headed home for naptime.  I read Morgan her Clifford and Animal Sounds books for the fourteenth time and tucked her into her crib.  Elise and I snuggled up with her latest issue of Highlights for some quiet time and then I dozed while she sang and squirmed and did everything in her power to resist sleep (that girl did not inherit her aunt’s proclivity toward napping!).

The rest of the afternoon was spent lounging in the backyard, watching the girls play in the kiddie pool and water the plants with their squirt gun and plastic cups.  I drank a glass of wine with my mom and listened to my dad wish Grandaddy an early Happy Birthday on the phone and felt so incredibly blessed.  The past couple of days were filled with so many simple moments of the perfect joy that comes with being surrounded by people you love.  Morgan’s sweet giggle, a tender hug of encouragement from my mom, an afternoon of watching my dad play with building blocks (with and without the kids!), and my cup overfloweth.

Today is my big brother’s 35th birthday – although getting older is a little less fun once you hit your thirties, I do appreciate the way that the five-year gap between us seems to shrink in significance as the years go by.  I just got home from a couple of days in Portland and am feeling especially impressed with the man Mitch has become.  I mean, seriously, is this cool dad with the sleeve tattoos and the acoustic guitar and the bookshelf full of sophisticated literature the same guy that endured the seventh grade with coke-bottle glasses and MC Hammer piping through his Walkman?

Despite his ummm… awkward phase, I have always been the kid sister that looked up to her cool older brother.  When we were little, I longed to climb into the backyard sandbox and play GI Joe with Mitch and his friends.  When he became a teenager and discovered the grunge scene, I watched Pearl Jam videos with him on MTV and respectfully held back from my usual pestering when he got news of Kurt Cobain’s death.  When he graduated from high school and moved to Portland, I visited him in his apartment near Hawthorne and envied the urban lifestyle he lived, full of music and bus rides and tattooed friends in bands.  When he came to visit me during my year abroad and we traveled to Barcelona together, I was struck by his knowledge of Gaudi and the ease with which he ordered a plate of olives and a glass of wine at a sidewalk cafe.  When he married Kathryn in 2005, I thanked God that he’d found a beautiful woman so perfect for him and laughed as we all danced barefoot under the trees to the live bluegrass band.  When he became a dad four years ago, I nearly cried over the surprising tenderness with which he held his little girl.

And today, I wish a very happy birthday to my swell big bro – loving father, wine connoisseur, expert on boring Spanish Civil War novels.  Cheers, Mitch.  I think we’ve both come a long way since those good ol’ days…

It’s a long drive to and from La Pine, Oregon, but after a fun-packed weekend like this one, we are reminded that it’s certainly a trip worth taking.  We rolled up to my mom and dad’s house late Thursday night and quickly fell into bed, weary from more than seven hours on the road, but looking forward to a couple of solid days of family time, relaxation, and life in the great outdoors.

Our hopes for this little getaway were met on all counts, starting with a leisurely jog through La Pine State Park on Friday morning.  It felt good to be so far removed from the city for awhile, to hear the whoosh of the wind through the treetops and breathe in the cool, fresh air.  It felt equally good to hole up indoors for the afternoon, reading and dozing and playing Uno and ping-pong while the rain fell outside.  This is the stuff of a perfect day off.

We had reservations on Friday evening for dinner at the Cowboy Dinner Tree – a super-rustic, super-charming little restaurant known for their home-cooked, family-style meals.  We made the drive waaaaay out there (seriously, this place is rural) and were seated in the cozy dining room, where horse saddles line the walls and the mis-matched tablewear reminds you of something from your grandmother’s kitchen.  We started off with a big bowl of salad and quart-size mason jars of lemonade, and things quickly spiraled out of control from there.  A tray full of dinner rolls, a pot of beef barley soup, and then, as if we weren’t already well on our way to being stuffed, the main course of chicken or steak (they keep their menu simple).  And they aren’t messing around – when you say chicken, you end up with an entire roasted bird on your plate, paired with a huge baked potato.  Ask for steak, and you’ll be given a juicy 30-ounce hunk of meat.  Follow that with triple-berry shortcake for dessert and pray that you’ve worn your pants with the elastic waistband, ’cause you’ll be leaving there with a couple of extra pounds in your belly…  And enough leftovers for lunch and dinner the next day.

The sun did us a huge favor and broke through the clouds as we headed back to La Pine, bathing the brush-covered plains in a warm, beautiful glow.  This is indeed the Oregon Outback – wide-open, kind of scrubby, and (it seems) relatively unchanged from when the first settlers made their way here over one hundred years ago.

We awoke on Saturday to the sound of raindrops on the roof and I feared our plans for a little fishing escapade would be foiled.  But that fickle high desert weather did us another kudos and by 10:00 we were standing in the sun at the edge of Twin Lake, rods in hand.  The fish weren’t biting at the lake, so we packed up after a couple of hours and decided to try our luck on the grassy banks of the Deschutes River.  This proved equally unfruitful and we ended up heading home empty-handed, but the morning wasn’t a total loss – it was a lot of fun to share in one of my dad’s favorite hobbies.  He gave me my first-ever fly-fishing lesson, showed me how to use a worm blower (equally useful and disgusting!), and reminisced with me about the first fish I ever caught when I just a wee five year-old.  It was one of those mornings that the credit card commercials would have deemed “priceless”.

We ate lunch and freshened up back at the house, then drove up to Bend to do some bumming around the “big city”.  We shopped a little, did some beer tasting at the Deschutes Brewery, indulged in nachos and fried zucchini at the Bend Brewing Company, and then walked along the banks of the lazy river where it runs through town.  We wound our back to the car through the booth-lined streets of the “Bite of Bend” fair – I wish I’d saved room for the barbecue and tacos and dumplings being served by the vendors.  I was full stuffed with our pub fare, until I saw the giant helpings of marionberry shortcake topped with whipped cream.  Suddenly, my appetite had returned!

We made one final stop before calling it a day, detouring to the Paulina Peak lookout to take in more of those gorgeous cloudy evening skies.  I like city-living, but life among the pine trees certainly has its merits.

A pancake breakfast this morning, a few more snuggles with Bernie, and then it was time to hit the long dusty trail back to Seattle.  I think I say this every time we visit La Pine, but that may have been the best weekend we’ve ever spent there, as it was such a perfect mix of sight-seeing and resting and quality family time.  Thanks, Mom and Dad (and Bernie)!  It’s been real.

We got back this evening from a quick trip down to Portland for some quality time with my brother and his family.  And oooooh, girlies, why do you have to grow so fast?  Morgan and Elise continue to surprise us with how quickly they change, and while I get so much joy out of seeing them develop into little people with strong personalities and opinions and adorable little mannerisms, I also wish I could freeze time between visits, so that I don’t miss all the sweet moments in between.

Elise is still the same funny, strong-willed, giggling kid, but she’s chatting so much more now, using words to describe feelings or memories or the wild contents of her imagination.  She was singing a song this morning with a lyric that contained the word “bask” – she paused after this line to explain to me very matter-of-factly that bask means “to sit in the sun”.  Quite the vocabulary on that girl.  And don’t even bother trying to do the secret spelling thing around her (should we go to the P-A-R-K, or let her watch a M-O-V-I-E?) – she wasn’t fooled for a second.  She loves books almost as she loves the P-A-R-K, and she spent much of yesterday evening bouncing between Shane’s and my laps while we worked our way through her stack of library books.  She also loves her Uncle Shane somethin’ fierce.  And I can’t blame her – he really is the best kind of playground partner.

And Morgan… sweet, sweet Morgan.  That girl has my heart wrapped around her little finger.  She does this thing where she shrugs her shoulders while tilting her head and wrinkling that little nose and you can’t stop yourself from scooping her into your arms and kissing those soft baby cheeks.  She’s already got an imagination to match her sister’s, as she was pulling invisible food out of her toy car last night, holding it up to my mouth and making smacking noises with her lips as a cue for me to eat whatever kind of tasty meal she had prepared in her mind.  Our cuddle sessions are fewer and farther between, as she wants to constantly be on the go, but when she holds her arms out to you and lets you cradle her against your chest, you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

I suppose I can accept that growth and change and the loss of baby-hood is inevitable – the big brown eyes on these little ladies will still forever win me over.

I’ve been missin’ my family mucho lately, so I was thrilled when my parents arrived Friday afternoon for a weekend visit.  We ate burgers and walked in the park, we watched basketball and cooked dinner together and crowded on the couch to watch movies and eat ice cream.  My mom and I shopped and drank tea, my dad fixed a pesky leak in our downstairs sink (is fixing stuff the universal love language of dads, or did I just luck out?), and all of us reveled in the goodness of just hanging out with family.  Far too soon, the weekend came to an end as my parents pointed their car toward Oregon and hit the road this morning.  And dang it, here I am missing them again…

It’s been too long since we’ve seen those darling little girlies, so we headed down to Portland yesterday morning for a couple of days of  catching up with my brother’s family.  It was a quick trip, but so good for my soul – Elise and Morgan continue to be lights of my life, and I’m so, so thankful for our quality time with Mitch and Kathryn.

It was a sunshiny afternoon when we arrived and we were eager to get in a quick run to the playground before naptime.  Morgan is suddenly very quick on her feet – gone are the days of her scooting around on her chubby little arms and legs (sigh).  And Elise is nearly impossible to keep up with – that little lady’s abundance of energy astounds me.

We played hard, and then rested hard.  Uncle Shane tucked Elise in for her nap, and Morgan snuggled up with me in the living room.  Best feeling ever.

Kathryn booked a sitter for the evening and so the grown-ups went out for a night on the town.  We feasted on Indian food while chatting about family and travel and current events – I feel so lucky that the four of us enjoy each other’s company so much.  It’s a good, good thing when the family and friends are one and the same.

I love waking up to the sound of the girls chatting on Sunday mornings, getting out of bed and poking my head into the kitchen, where I’m greeted with smiles and sweetness and plans for a day of fun and play.

I promised Elise a special treat from the neighborhood coffee shop, so we bundled up and headed over to Posies for bagels and orange juice.

Elise was intent on stopping at the park on the way home, and so we spent awhile playing on the swings (huge hit), testing out the teeter-totter (not a huge hit), and climbing/crawling/sliding on the jungle gym.  Shane takes the cake as best swing-pusher ever – Elise squealed in delight as he propelled her from behind, from in front, and from…below.  Silly Uncle Shane.

We went back to the house and tea-partied and read and played music – Elise sang her own rendition of Five Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed and strummed her guitar.  Mitch has high hopes for this one.

Morgan’s not quite ready for sing-a-longs yet, but what she lacks in verbal skills she makes up for in facial expressions.  Her winning grin is a guaranteed heart-melter.

Praise God for family and babies and Indian food and sunshine.  Life is grand.

As much as I loved being home for the holidays, we were all ready for a little mini-break once Christmas was over, so on Monday morning Shane, his parents, and I hopped in the car and headed north to catch the ferry to Victoria.  Almost six hours later, we checked into our lovely rooms at Magnolia Hotel and set out in search of lunch.  We ended up at Bard and Banker for some pub-style fare and then spent some time wandering through downtown’s charming little streets.

As soon as the sun set, I was eager to check out the Inner Harbor, since I’ve heard the Christmas lights there are beautiful.  Indeed, it was like a different world at night – the distinguished, old Parliament building took on the character of a gingerbread house, and the dreary, wet streets we’d walked that afternoon now glittered with brightly colored reflections.

We stuffed ourselves with a seafood dinner and then called it a night – I kept my fingers crossed that I’d awake to blue skies the following morning, so that we could see Victoria really shine during the day.  No such luck…

Yep – gray, gray skies and rain all day on Tuesday.  We did the scenic drive along the coast and marveled at the huge water-view houses, and then took refuge from the rain for another cozy pub lunch, this time at the Sticky Wicket.

And rain be damned, no vacation is complete without gelato, so we had one final stop to make before making the long trek home.

It was a perfectly mellow little trip – comfort food in cozy restaurants, Christmas lights strung on trees and buildings and boats, and quality time with family.  Pretty good stuff, eh?

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!

Due to all the traveling we’ve done this year, Shane and I decided to forego our usual Thanksgiving trip to Minnesota and instead spend the holiday closer to home, in Portland with my brother’s family.  We arrived on Thursday morning, and from the moment we set foot inside Mitch and Kathryn’s cozy home, the blessings of family were lavished upon us.  Morgan looked up at me with her big brown eyes and I scooped her up in my arms; Elise giggled her three year-old giggle and we quickly started making our play plans.  Mitch put the turkey in the oven and Kathryn and I got caught up with each other’s latest goings-on.  Goodness, these people are special to me – and their home has become a place full of so much comfort and joy for Shane and I.

Since we won’t see the girls at Christmas, and since Elise saw the gifts we’d brought and couldn’t contain her excitement, we opened presents that afternoon.  The blocks we bought for Morgan were a huge hit with both kids – Elise is an expert tower-builder, and Morgan is the queen of destruction (you can guess what happened about three seconds after I snapped this photo).

Post-presents, we put the finishing touches on the big Thanksgiving feast.  Elise has taken after her parents and loves to cook – she was eager to help with meal preparations and whipped up an extra-special soup for Uncle Shane with a few miscellaneous cupboard finds: oregano, raisins, and dried chili peppers in warm water.  Shane is smiling on the outside, but inside, he’s thinking, “How do I get out of having to eat this?!”

Morgan also loves being a part of the cooking action – she excels at: trying to climb in the dishwasher, finding anything that fell off the cutting board, and opening cupboard doors and drawers.  But seriously, how you not want this face in your kitchen?

We ate until our stomachs couldn’t hold a single bite more, and after the dishes were washed and the kids were tucked into bed, I stretched out on the sofa and thanked my lucky stars for apple pie and baby girls.

We all went out together on Friday morning to do a little shopping, and then spent the rest of the afternoon cozied up indoors.  Living room tea parties, rounds of Candyland, and snuggle time with little Morgan.  Lovely.

We spent this morning at Cathedral Park before hitting the long dusty trail back to Seattle.  After spending the previous 48 hours lounging and eating, it felt good to get out for a walk.  Elise skipped among the leaves and Morgan enjoyed the view from her stroller.

As I reflect this weekend on things that I am thankful for, family both near and far, is at the top of my list.

While Shane and I were in Amsterdam, we got an email from Kathryn with a video attached – our sweet little niece had officially started crawling… I smiled to see Morgan scooting across the screen of my iPhone, and then was immediately struck with panic – how could she be crawling already? What else was I missing? How many more months of true ‘baby-ness’ does she have left? And so right then and there, in the middle of the Van Gogh museum, we made plans to get down to Portland on our first weekend back from vacation.

I looked forward to this visit all week, and as soon as we set foot inside Mitch and Kathryn’s house yesterday afternoon, and Morgan looked up at me with her wide-eyed, two-toothed grin, all was right with the world again. Dang, I’ve missed that little girl. She is cuddly and good-natured and will make you crazy (in a good way) with her sweet little voice cooing ‘hi’ and ‘uh-oh…’ (the only two discernible words in her vocabulary as of yet). I gave her a pre-bedtime bottle last night and then never wanted to let her go as she nuzzled into my chest and fell asleep while I burped her. Seriously, this little one doesn’t mess around when it comes to melting your heart.

Elise is the second reason we couldn’t wait to get down to Portland. She is definitely a three year-old – funny and charming and inquisitive, but also dramatic and moody and a little bit too much like her Auntie Kelly when she’s hungry or tired. One minute, she will try to convince you that life as she knows it is over because she really, really needs cranberry juice and the fridge only contains apple juice. But the next minute, she will curl up in your lap and let you read her a story and remind you that behind the drama, there is still an incredibly sweet, lovey little girl inside.  And the sound of her laughter as she splashes in puddles or gets frisbee-throwing lessons from Uncle Shane is priceless.

Thanks, little ladies, for a truly lovely weekend…