little black journal

You know those funny little segments on Jay Leno where they prove just how uninformed the American public is by asking random strangers on the street if they know the name of the Speaker of the House, or who lives at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue?  My worst nightmare is that I would be one of those unfortunate interviewees, that I would stumble over answers to embarrassingly simple questions about our nation or current events, and then people would cringe as the facade I maintain of being well-rounded, well-informed, ‘in the know’ is shattered.  I am married to a man that checks the New York Times headlines on his iPhone before he even gets out of bed in the morning, and although I know he loves me unconditionally, I’m sure he shakes his head a little when he sees that I don’t catch the simplest of political jokes on 30 Rock, or that I scan the headlines of Us Weekly rather than Time when in line at the grocery store.  Yes, it’s true.  And so, in an attempt to stop being the person at the dinner table that is constantly steering the conversation away from anything to do with government or war or late-breaking news, I’ve been making a solid effort at enlightenment. I’m checking news websites, I’m asking questions, I’m scanning the Seattle Times rather than the pretty design magazines while getting my morning coffee in the kitchen at work.

I spent quite awhile last night going through the past month’s posts on Boston Globe’s Big Picture, scanning the amazing collections of photos that depict what is going on in the world at large.  And when I was done, rather than wanting to pin a gold star on my chest for being up-to-speed on the world’s latest happenings, I instead wanted to cry.  Had I known the pain that would shake my soul by seeing image after image of suffering, destruction, loss, and unrest, I probably would have chosen to go to bed early, saying a short-but-sweet prayer for Japan before I drifted off to sleep, thinking to myself that really, that was the best I had to offer.  I wouldn’t have been faced with the truth that I should also be pouring out prayers for Libya, as missiles fly overhead, and people tremble with fear as they flee their homes and hope their lives will be spared.  I wouldn’t have even known to pray for residents of Ivory Coast, where people are looting and killing wreaking havoc on the country over opposition to its leadership.  I wouldn’t have been shaken by the image of a father in Miyagi Prefecture weeping over his lost son as he kneels in the debris that was once his home.  So…now I know.  I know that I should be praying with fervor.  I know that I should be angry and saddened, full of compassion and desperation.  I know that I am undeservedly fortunate, with my warm home and my stable government, and my life full of so many comforts.  But I wish I knew how to bring peace to Libya, how to reunite a missing child with her grief-stricken parents, how to rebuild a city from absolute ruin.  There is so much more that I wish I knew.

Sometime toward the end of last year (the day after my day-after-Thanksgiving shopping spree, maybe?), my clothes stopped fitting in my closet.  For the past 3 months, I’ve had a nice little stack of folded sweaters sitting on my dresser, unable to squeeze anything else inside my over-stuffed closet.  I did pick my prettiest sweaters to sit out, and folded them extra-neatly, and told myself they were just part of the room’s decor, but really, who was I kidding?  I just had too many clothes.  And so yesterday, unable to stand it any longer, I sprung into action and pulled every single thing out of my closet – shoes, handbags, clothes, all of it, and told myself that the only things that could be put back in there were the items that 1) fit well;  2) have been worn in the last 3-4 months (summer wear exempted).  I got an ironically-timed email from La Verne yesterday morning as I had just tossed the last pair of pants onto the bed, asking if anyone wanted to take advantage of her one-day-only 50% discount at Banana Republic.  I wavered for a moment, being someone who hates to turn down a good deal, but self-restraint won out in the end, and I decided to fore-go an afternoon of acquiring for an afternoon of de-cluttering.  I abided by a strict “When in doubt, throw it out” policy, and ended up with a pretty hefty stack of give-aways.  Eight pairs of shoes, four handbags, two coats, five skirts, a couple of pairs of pants, and roughly 15 tops will be coming soon to South Seattle’s Goodwill (with a few special things set aside for my next quarterly ladies’ clothing exchange).  Feels good to strip out some of the excess.

Closet before:

Closet after (ok, so it looks almost the same, but I promise you, there is less in there!):

The trick now will be in keeping it pared down, and so I’m going to be much more intentional about my purchases from now on – no more incidents of  ”Holy Cow!  This sweater doesn’t really fit, but it’s only $13, marked down from $75!  Must get it!”.  A couple of ground rules:

1) No more black turtlenecks.  I know that black sweater/black pants is the unofficial architect’s uniform, but I really don’t need more than the four black turtlenecks I already own.

2) No more than three new items of clothing per month.  I shared this new rule with Shane and he guffawed – he hardly buys more than three new items of clothing per year.  But whatever – I like to shop, and am keeping my goals realistic.

3) Make a list of things I’d like to have, and stick to the list.  Yes, the occasional too-good-to-resist deal will pop up, and then I’ll stray from the list, but as a general rule, if I decide I have plenty of jeans, I should not shop for jeans.

Next weekend, I tackle the abyss that is my sock drawer.  And I can hardly wait.

I landed back in Seattle on Thursday night, and though it was hard to bid farewell to my temporary life of leisure, it felt good be greeted at the airport with a giant bear-hug from Shane (I needed his body heat almost as much as his affection – brrrrrr!).  And I’m extremely grateful for my suitcase full of goodies from the Coffee Mill, and my head full of memories of blazing sunsets, sandy beaches, and long chats with my lovely lady relatives.

My time in Florida was every bit the vacation I had hoped it would be.  I fell into an easy routine of a morning jog or walk with my mom; then a visit to the Coffee Mill for a caffeine fix; lunch somewhere outdoors, whether at a restaurant patio or a nearby park; an afternoon full of shopping or pool-side sitting or sipping iced lattes back at the Mill; then dinner with various extended family, followed by a sunset walk on the beach; and finally, a mellow evening at my grandma’s house, spent talking or reading or watching TV.  The weather was perfect while I was there – plenty warm to sport tank tops and sip cold Sangria with my lunch, but not the sticky, humid kind of hot that I remember from my mid-summer visits to Florida as a kid.  It felt so, so good to wake up in the morning, throw on my running clothes, and head outdoors into the fresh, sun-laden air for a jog on palm tree-lined paths.  I hadn’t realized just how much I’ve missed being outdoors until I had the chance to feel the sun on my shoulders, hear the rustle of leaves, see the multitude of greens that make up grass and plants and trees.  I also got a good dose of wildlife, as Florida is rich with all kinds of birds and lizards and turtles and snakes (ok, so seeing a snake shimmy across the path right in front of me inspired more fear than reverence, but still…).

And iced coffee after breakfast – ohhhh…I’d forgotten that coffee could be served cold.  I passed several hours at the Coffee Mill while on vacation, sipping my lattes, browsing their stock of various goodies, reading on the porch out front.  My grandma started this business when she was in her late forties, on her own, and realizing that she needed to find a way to support herself.  Thirty-five years later, through the commitment and hard work of her and my aunt, the Coffee Mill is still going strong.  I remember visiting this place as a kid, standing in front the shelves filled with candy jars, asking Grandma what I could by with the 75 cents in my pocket.  She must have given me an extra-special family discount, because I remember leaving with a good supply of gummy bears, jelly beans, and lemon drops.  This time, I was filling my basket with coffee beans and tins of tea (and maybe a little bag or two of mint chocolates and cinnamon candies).  And it turns out that Grandma still cuts me a pretty good deal.  Score!

Being so close to the water was also an extra-special treat, and I made sure that I experienced the feeling of sand between my toes whenever given the opportunity.  Everything seems more colorful when you’re at the beach, from the paint on the buildings to the color of the sunsets.  And those Gulf sunsets are really somethin’ else.  Every night was different, but they were all equally lovely.  And just when I thought the view couldn’t be more incredible, we looked out one evening and saw a group of dolphins jumping out of the water not far from the shore!  It was like a scene out of a movie.

Sunday night:

Monday night:

Tuesday night:

We spent one perfectly beachy afternoon having lunch with my aunt at John’s Pass, a cute little fishing village with restaurants and a boardwalk.  The seafood was delicious, our table in the sun was ideal for Sangria-sipping, and the pelicans were especially lively as they swooped down each time a fishing boat came in.  After lunch, we drove over to Pass-a-Grille Beach in St Pete for drinks and dessert – more sun, more beach, more mmmmm…

As much as I adored the sun and the water and the coffee, the quality time I was able to spend with family was the thing that made this whole trip worth it.  My mom and I really, really enjoyed the chance to spend so much time together just doing ‘girl stuff’ – talking, shopping, even just sitting together and reading by the pool.  And goodness, if I’d known we be spending so many hours sitting with my grandma in her living room, listening to her memories and stories and ups and downs, I would have brought a tape recorder.  Those late-night talks confirmed what I already suspected – my grandmother is indeed one of the kindest, most faithful people I have ever met.  It was so meaningful to hear her talk about how she found peace after my grandpa left after over 20 years of marriage, to hear her childhood memories of Sunday afternoon dinners shared with dozens of cousins, to see how she has been able to take every sorrow and every joy in her life and lift it up for the glory of God.  It was also nice to catch up with my aunt and my cousins – I hadn’t seen some of these family members for nearly ten years, so a reunion was long overdue.

And so, my Floridian vacation is officially over.  As I type, I am wearing my coziest pajamas and am wrapped up in my warmest blanket – Shane scolded me today for cranking the heat in our house up way too high, but I was just trying to slowly ease back into this chilly Seattle weather.  At least I now have a solid stash of gourmet teas to help keep me toasty.  And plenty of memories of sunny beaches.

After a particularly dreary week in Seattle, my mom and I boarded our plane yesterday morning and landed in tropical Florida last night. Although I love the Pacific Northwest, with its distinct seasons and chilly Winter evenings that can be spent snuggled up on the couch with my favorite blankie and a cup of tea, I was feelin’ due for some Vitamin D, ready to trade in my puffy down jacket for the cute sleeveless tops buried at the back of my closet. Looking forward to:
- Soaking up some sun, and giving even just the slightest tint to my disturbingly pale skin.
- Painting my toenails hot pink. Then actually being able to wear toe-revealing shoes.
- Catching up with my grandma, who happens to be the sweetest, kindest woman I’ve ever met.
- Ordering iced lattes from the Coffee Mill (this is the coffee/gift shop that my grandma and aunt have owned for years, and I have loads of fond memories of visiting this place as a kid).
- Staking out a perfect patch of sand on the beach, spending hours there reading, relaxing, listening to the waves wash all my worries away (how’s that for idealistic?!).

Peace out, Seattle. Try to get all that rain out of your system while I’m gone.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my plate. Figuratively, I mean. How big is my plate, how much stuff is on it, am I filling it too full, or failing to maximize its area? My life is in need of a minor re-org, as I’ve been feeling swamped but also unproductive, and unable to take on anything new, or even successfully maintain the relationships and activities that I already hold dear. So, I’m taking inventory…what’s on my plate, can any of it be pushed aside and fed to the dog, and what do I want/need to make room for?

Work is…work.  My job obviously consumes more hours than anything else; I am a full-time architect and have accepted the time commitments and responsibilities associated with that.  The best I can do is minimize night and weekend work, which I’m usually able to do, although duty still calls more often than I’d like for it to.  Exercise is another one of those necessary time-consumers – I’ll call those evening runs at the gym ‘eating my broccoli’. As much as I detest that treadmill, with it’s countdown clock that seems to run at about one-third of the speed of normal time, missing my work-outs puts me in a physical and emotional funk, so I just gotta suck it up and make sure they happen. Kind of like housework – I’ve just gotta do it, and as much as I hate tackling those piles of dirty laundry or that sink full of dishes, I sure am glad I made the effort once it’s done.

Then there’s the stuff on the ‘want more of it’ list, like my creative outlets – taking pictures and blogging and art-making.  I get so much satisfaction from an afternoon spent drawing in my sketchbook or putting together a good blog post, but these are some of the first things to get pinched when I’m running low on time or energy. And even when I do pretty well about keeping up with things (setting goals like my weekly sketching exercise have helped a lot), I am still left wishing there was time for more.  Maybe it will always be that way, and I should just be thankful for my creative thirst.  Then again, thirst can be irritating, exhausting, unsettling.  Not sure if/how/when to quench it.  And there’s Shane, my most favorite person in the world, who I’m always wishing I could spend more time with. If I were to assign him a place on my plate, he would be my double chocolate fudge brownie, served with a scoop of perfect vanilla gelato (if you know how much I like dessert, you will understand what a compliment this is). All in all, we do a pretty good job of being aware when there’s a lack of quality time, and making sure that we set aside an evening or a weekend to reconnect when we get off-track.  It just feels unfortunate that the disconnect has to happen in the first place.  I have several friendships that would also benefit from a bigger time investment – I want to have the kind of schedule that allows for mid-week Happy Hour meet-ups, or Saturday afternoon outings to the cafe.  Workin’ on it.  Other ‘want-more’ activities include cooking, traveling, reading, participating in neighborhood events, sewing, being more involved in our church, gardening, and staying closer in touch with family.  Phew!

I want a tapas-style life – lots of little plates of varied and balanced flavors.  I don’t want to let work be that giant serving of heavy Pasta Alfredo that doesn’t leave room for anything else.  And I don’t want to-do’s like exercise and housework to keep me from enjoying my dessert or that after-dinner glass of wine.  So…what to do?  I’m realizing that there’s not a lot (or anything) that I’m willing or able to push off my plate at the moment.  But I could make better use of the limited hours that exist in a day.  I’m going to give morning work-outs a go, to free up my evenings for other things.  And I’m going to scale back on the TV time-wasting – there’s nothing wrong with indulging in some quality veg-out time as needed, but I watched 8 episodes of Grey’s Anatomy when Shane was out of town a couple of weekends ago. That was quite possibly not the best use of an open Saturday afternoon (damn you, MacDreamy!).  So, here’s to hoping that few small steps can make a big difference.  And to promising that there will always, always be room for brownies.

(Random aside:  I made my (ok, Martha’s) mint fudge brownies today, and they are quite possibly the best thing ever.  Worth every single gooey calorie…)

After our low-key but just-right 2010 Valentines Day, spent eating cereal for dinner while watching Project Runway episodes, Shane decided to put aside our home-body-ish, old couple-ish tendencies and make reservations for us at a cozy little Seattle bistrot.  Cafe Campagne is our little slice of Paris in the Pacific Northwest, and though it lacks French-speaking waiters and a view of the Seine, it still ranks pretty high on the romance-o-meter.  We were seated at a little candle-lit table at the back of the restaurant, handed a wine list and a menu, and the rest is a euphoric blur of rich foods, bubbly champagne, and great conversation.  There was escargot, there was Chevre-topped salad, coq au vin, creme brulee, espresso, oh. mon. Dieu.  And there was talking, about travel and friends and the prospects for the 2011 Giants.  It was perfection.  So, Happy Valentine’s Day, Mr. Schnell.  Je t’aime de tout mon couer.

We returned this afternoon from a super-quick trip to Portland, to spend some time with family and pick up a couple of things at West Elm for our new dining room.  Our time there was short, but it was so good to catch up with my brother and sister-in-law, and dote on the darling nieces.  Morgan is 6 weeks old, and much changed since we saw her at Christmas.  She’s looking around a lot now, loves to be held and cuddled, and looks like a perfect little angel when she sleeps.  I spent much of last night and this morning with her tucked into my arms – I am decidedly in love with this little girl.

Elise is also changing with each passing month, becoming more independent and coming into her own as a grown-up little girl (where did my baby niece go???  sigh…).  Favorites include cartoons, cream cheese (I discovered at breakfast this morning that the bagel is only there as a surface for the cream cheese to be scraped off of), and living room blanket forts.  It took her longer than usual to warm up to us this time around, but Uncle Shane was able to wriggle his way into her good graces this morning, with a ride down the playground slide.

It’s so hard to say good-bye to these little girls each time we leave, knowing that they will be growing and changing so much between visits. But then again, it’s ok – I have visions of taking Elise shopping someday, instilling in her my appreciation for a good deal and comfortable pair of heels, working on art projects with Morgan, smearing paint on canvases together while we chat about school or family or her favorite books and TV shows, and having the girls up to Seattle for a sleepover with their Auntie.  So I can look forward to that, deal with the changes, and revel in the amazing little people that they are quickly becoming.

I have come to believe that three-day weekends should be the new standard (as opposed to the one-day weekends I’ve been having for the past month or so).  And so I took today off as a post-deadline stress-detox kind of day, to get some rest and catch up on a few to-do’s.  And it was lovely.  I started the day off with a solid workout, came home just in time for an appointment to have our windows measured for blinds (part of our dining room makeover), got our dinner into the crock pot, cleaned up the house a bit, made myself a yummy-but-healthy lunch, and then had every intention to continue my productive streak by painting the dining room and attacking the mound of laundry that has begun to crawl out of our closet.  But then I sat down on the couch, and sitting turned into laying, and laying turned into napping, and I figured I’d had just about enough ‘to-do’-ing for one day.  There’s no shame in some hard-earned relaxation.  I rolled off the couch mid-afternoon and realized I still hadn’t had my celebratory day-off latte, so I got in the car and made the trek up to Queen Anne to check out Le Reve – a French bakery that I’ve heard some buzz about and wanted to check out.  I can’t give this place a solid two thumbs up, since I’m not a fan of their ‘no laptop’ policy, and my eclair was served more chilled than I like it, but nonetheless, with my book, my coffee, and the knowledge that on any other typical Friday afternoon I’d be plugging away at the office, I couldn’t complain.

Ten minutes after getting back to the house, Shane called me from his way home and asked if I wanted to meet him for a drink at St. Dames – a neighborhood joint that recently opened and shows definite promise as our personal ‘Cheers’.  I have already taken a liking to both their head server/owner and their Happy Hour Cabernet, and it’s exciting to have a cozy joint like this one just two blocks away from our house.

We ended the day with a rousing game of Settlers with Jason and Nance.  Once I was able to tame my losing-and-bitter-about-it attitude, the night ended up being lots of fun, with plenty of laughs and homemade cake and the joy of just chillin’ out with good friends on a Friday night.

It was a great day.  And the best part?  The weekend has just begun…

Tonight I was tasked with taking down our beloved Christmas tree – one of my most un-favorite things about the holiday season.  There are few things sadder than a pile of dried-up pine needles where a fresh, green, well-lit beacon of holiday joy once stood.  But time moves on, and if I have to wait another 11 months for the scent of pine and the glow of twinkle lights to grace our living room, so be it.  ’Cause this year is showing some definite promise.  Shane and I have been talking a lot lately about things we want to do this year – places we want to go, people we want to see, books that we want to read, etc, etc…  It’s fun to dream and to goal-set and to populate our calendar with things to look forward to.  It’s even more fun to hop on-line and buy plane tickets to far-off places, so I called my mom the other day and asked her if she’d be up for a trip to Florida to visit our family out there and take a mini-break from the Northwest winter.  She hesitated for all of…1 second, then gave me the go-ahead to book it.  So in a couple of months, I’m off to the sunshine state!  Shane and I have a couple of other vacation options up our sleeve for later in the year, and are enjoying a temporary detour into the land of endless possibilities – we’ll see where this little jaunt actually lands us.  Is life about the journey, or about the destination?  Hard to say sometimes…