little black journal

Aloha!  Shane and I landed back in Seattle last night after a few days in Kauai, and oh em geeeeeee…  It was nothing short of paradise.  I had hoped to “live blog” while we were there, but I was too drunk with sunshine and Hawaiian shave ice at the end of each day to even consider opening the laptop.  So, a flashback:

We arrived in Kauai Thursday afternoon, and from the moment we stepped into the lobby of our hotel, with its tropical gardens and glistening ocean view, I knew we were in for something special.

We were in our bathing suits and down at the pool within minutes of checking into our room – we would log some serious hours here over the next few days.  I loved the long,meandering swimming pool, with it’s mini waterfalls and multiple seating niches.

Shane favored the huge man-made saltwater “lagoon”, with it’s sandy bottom and shallow spots, perfect for lazily bobbing around.

The small beach just beyond the lagoon was beautiful as well, but not so ideal for a couple of bobbers like ourselves – those waves were rough, and the ocean floor was fairly rocky.  Shane has the bruised shin to prove it!

After successfully rinsing ourselves of any travel fatigue, we got dressed and drove over to Keiko’s Paradise for a dinner of fresh fish and (virgin) mango margaritas. We dined outside, reveling in the feeling of being in tank tops at 9 pm.  We were coming off a fairly cold week in Seattle, and I was determined to soak up every last bit of island warmth.  Everything else was just icing on the cake.

Our first big adventure came early Friday, when we boarded a helicopter for a tour of the island.  We had opted for the “doors-off” package, so the sides of the helicopter were totally open to the outside – gotta have a lot of faith in that seat belt to hold you in place!  My stomach fluttered with butterflies when we first took off, but any nervousness quickly faded away as the beauty of Kauai rolled out below us.  There are not words to describe how incredible this hour was.  Shoot – photos don’t even do it justice.  Easily one of the most memorable travel moments of my life…

The flight over the Waimea Canyon took my breath away:

And just as I started to catch that breath, we took a turn toward the Na Pali Coast, and I was again left gasping:

From there, we swooped along the North Shore, checking out its blue waters and sandy beaches:

And then we headed inland again, for more of those verdant, green-carpeted mountains.  I couldn’t get over how lush it all was, every surface covered in dense layers of dark green and light green and bright, glowing chartreuse.  I suppose I can’t begrudge those rain clouds for blocking my shots – they’ve made for some pretty rich landscapes:

Eventually it was time to make our way back to Lihue.  Too soon, too soon!  I could have floated up in that sky all day.

Post-flight, giddy with adrenaline, we drove over to the nearby K-Mart for breakfast.  Yup, read that right – there’s a woman with a little booth out front, where she makes and serves fresh malasadas.  These fluffy, fried, sugared dough balls were so, so good. So bad, but still, sooooo good.  We scarfed down our breakfast and then cruised back to the hotel for another afternoon at the pool, again bouncing from pool to lagoon to lounge chair, repeating the rotation when the sun got too hot.  Pretty grand.

I was determined to find the best shave ice on the island during our stay, so we headed over to Waimea that evening to visit Jo Jo’s.  And dang, it puts sno-cones to shame.  Fluffy ice, fruity-but-not-too-sweet syrup, and a scoop of macadamia nut ice at the bottom for an extra treat.  Shane gave me a Hawaiian ice machine for Mother’s Day, and now I have something to aspire to!

Refreshed by our icy snack, we drove up Waimea Canyon Road to check out the views.  We had upgraded our economy rental car for the first time ever and splurged on a Mustang convertible, and let me tell you, there are few things more fun than cruising through the Hawaiian mountains with the wind in your hair and the guy you love at your side while Macklemore and Jack Johnson and Taylor Swift pipe through the stereo (we have very eclectic taste).

We took the windy road to the very end and arrived at Pu’u o Kila lookout, taking in the stunning view of the Na Pali Coast and the great Pacific. It was so quiet up there – just us, a few stray chickens (they’re all over the island), and the Big Guy that put this all in place.  Praise be to God.

The sun was setting as we made our way back down the mountain, and we pulled over so I could snap a quick pic of the gorgeous sky – thus began our 4-night stint of sunset-chasing (more on that later).

We ended the day with a simple cafe meal and fell into bed sleepy and slightly sunburned.  But also so, so excited to see what else Kauai had in store for us.

Pregnancy has been full of little perks I didn’t think I’d embrace with such fervor: the comfy elastic-waisted jeans, the strange-but-amazing little kicks and pokes in my belly, the out-with-the-old, in-with-the-new game of nesting – I’m liking this pre-mama thing. But the very best part of it all? Watching Shane eagerly anticipate the arrival of the baby has filled me with such incredible joy and gratitude. From the very moment I saw that faint pink line that meant pregnant back in December, he’s been super-dad, scouring the Internet for the best OB, then registering us for birth classes and infant safety lessons and a hospital tour, spending hours reading online reviews to determine the right stroller for little Schnell. He checks his BabyBump app daily and fills me in on how the baby is developing, what kinds of changes are on the horizon, when I can expect my ankles to swell and my belly button to pop out. He’s a little stricter than I’d like when it comes to me taking (little) bites of poached egg and I can’t stand that disapproving look he gives me when I sneak a (tiny) sip of his wine, but I try not to begrudge his desire that I follow the rules. I know those raised eyebrows are rooted in love and concern. Daily I’m seeing him care for me in new and thoughtful ways, as his way of caring for the baby inside of me. I love the fact that he still remembers to slow down at that stomach-dropping portion of downhill road near Jason and Nancy’s, after my first-trimester moan that I could no longer handle his speedy driving. I cherish the nights he curls up to me on the couch to gently put his hands on my belly while we watch baseball. On those days when I feel especially big and uncomfortable in this rapidly expanding body of mine, he kisses me and reminds me that I’m beautiful, that this extra weight is part of a wonderful miracle.

There’s a scene in Juno (a Schnell fave) where Jennifer Garner’s character talks about how a woman begins to feel like a mother during pregnancy, but a man doesn’t identify with fatherhood until the actual birth of the baby. Not so, Jen, not so. This dear man already has dad written all over his proud, grinning face.

We have slowly but surely been making room for baby in our house – we had an entire room of stuff to toss or donate or squirrel away in other closets.  And Operation Organize is nearly complete, which means our extra upstairs bedroom is empty and ready for Operation Nursery.  I’ve had lots of fun dreaming about what this room could be, imagining myself rocking a baby to sleep in a comfy glider or pulling a book off a shelf to read our toddler a bedtime story.  We’re keeping it modern and simple, relatively quiet with a few pops of color through art and books.  Tomorrow we finish painting and do one final round of glider-shopping.  Then it’s time to hang shelves and buy a crib and make art for the walls.  This very well might be my favorite home improvement project yet…

the 411:

Paint: “Storm” by Valspar

Graham Glider by West Elm

Tripod End Table by Urban Outfitters

Ada Table Lamp by CB2

Hudson Crib by babyletto

Malm Dresser by Ikea

Animal Prints by Avalisa

Books, books, books!

Paris Screen Print by Famille Summerbelle

Dear Buhb,

Happy Anniversary!  It’s been quite a ride thus far, full of laughter and beauty and adventure.  Like that night on our Costa Rican honeymoon when the obnoxiouly loud chorus of tree frogs kept us from getting any sleep, or that perfect sunset we caught in Bruges in 2011.  That afternoon we spent talking and drinking champagne on the deck of our Whidbey Island rental last year is forever sealed in my mind as one of the best days ever.  I’m so grateful for your selflessness and support, for the all-nighter you pulled with me to rig a display stand for my thesis project, for the times you dragged me out of a funk with your stellar dance moves, for the way you have always walked alongside me, even when it was down a path you had tried to steer me clear of.  Looking forward our next big adventure (so excited to hit Kauai with you!), and our even grander journey come September.  You make my life better, richer, happier every single day.

We made a quick trip to Portland this weekend for a family fix – 24 hours to catch up with Mitch and Kathryn and love on those sweet nieces of ours. We ate ice cream cones at Ruby Jewel’s, we cheered on Elise at soccer practice, we hit the Kenton Street Fair, complete with bratwursts and puppet shows and face-painting.  We read books and painted and wrapped baby dolls in little purple blankets.  Never a dull moment.

Elise is FIVE and all big-girl now.  She is extremely inquisitive and will keep you on your toes with her myriad of questions: “Which way are we driving?”; “North?  Can you drive to the North Pole?”; “Why is that man on the street corner holding a sign?”; “If he doesn’t have a house, where does he sleep?”  Mitch and Kathryn are so good at constantly staying engaged with her – every question of Elise’s gets a thoughtful answer, even if it’s at the end of a string of 27 other “Why’s”.  She still loves super-heros and anything pink; on the flip side, spinach is disgusting and hair-brushing is absolute torture.

And Morgan…she’s still quite the heart-melter.  She is chatty like her sister – it just takes a little more effort to decipher what she’s talking about.  “Hay” is her name for Shane, “Hide you!” is her version of “Found you!” in a game of hide and seek, “No ah-eh” is her proud declaration of “No accidents” after a successful day without diapers.  She can be cranky (she is two, after all), but she can also laugh like her joy knows no bounds.  A simple game of peek-a-boo, and she’ll be rolling on the floor, squealing with unbridled delight.  She is always on the go – running from one room to the other, climbing on furniture, gently pushing Uncle Shane into the closet for another round of hide-and-seek.  She took a little tumble off the playground slide today, and while I felt bad for her scraped-up palms, those few minutes when she quietly nuzzled into my chest and let me wipe her tears were precious.

Love you, girlies.  So so soooo much.

I haven’t made much progress on that stack of birth and parenting-related books that sits on our end table.  Partly, it’s that the arrival of the baby still feels so far away – September lies in the unfathomable future.  But beyond that, I am perhaps a little over-confident in our ability to figure out the parent thing on-the-fly.  I want to believe we’ve got it covered.  We have spent the past couple of years building up our love bank for this baby.  And children adore Shane (he’s known as the “baby whisperer” among our friends), so there’s no reason that our kid shouldn’t be head-over-heels for his or her dad.  All you need is love.  Right?  Right?

Maybe I’m being just a wee bit naive.  I was on my way to work via Lightrail a couple of weeks ago when a woman got on with her adorable 2-year old daughter.  The little girl sat in her mama’s lap and babbled sweet nothings while mom stroked her pretty brown curls.  I could so easily picture myself in their shoes, commuting downtown with our perfect babe, soaking in those last few minutes of time together before work and daycare begin.  Precious moments.  But then that little girl started to get squirmy.  And then she started to whine.  And by the time we’d rolled into SoDo (still three stops from downtown), she was shrieking bloody murder on an otherwise silent train, flailing those chubby arms and refusing to be held. Poor mom did her best to restrain her daughter with one hand while she dug around in her bag for a distraction.  She pulled out an iPad and I figured the crisis would soon be averted.  But it took several minutes before the little girl was presented with a satisfactory video and a seat of her liking, and by that time, we had rolled into University Station and it was time for the woman to put away the iPad and pack up her bag.  More wailing and tears ensued, more sympathetic glances were cast mom’s way as she grabbed her daughter and hurried off the train.  And I was left wondering how I would have handled such a meltdown.  Would I stick to Shane’s and my resolution to strictly limit “screen time” for our kid?  Or would I concede that desperate times call for desperate measures and use whatever means possible to get the child to quiet down?  Would I rock her, walk her, coo to her, attempt to reason with her?  I don’t think the “right” answer can be found in any book, and I don’t know that any amount of preparation will eliminate tantrums, but I was slapped with healthy dose of reality that morning.  I was reminded that parenting will sometimes be really, really hard.  It will be full of sky-high joys and depths of unimaginable love, but it will also be riddled with moments of frustration, confusion, and insecurity.

And it will require sacrifice.  I catch myself believing that I won’t really be too tired, that we’ll still have room for spontaneity and freedom, that my maternity leave will be like vacation, full of “bonus time” to rest, to read, to work on my art.  As we sat around a table at Spinasse for dinner last night with Jack, La Verne, Jason, and Nance to revel in what may be our last meal out together for awhile (baby Chen due in just 8 days!), I was struck with how times are changing.  Baby-sitters and feeding schedules will soon require some adjustment in the make-up of our Friday nights. We’re not resigning ourselves to a hermit-like life, but 4-hour multi-course meals might be on hold for awhile.  Shoot!

It’s absolutely a good thing to anticipate our baby’s arrival with hope and glee, but I also want to embark on this journey with the acknowledgement that it will stretch me in ways I’ve never been stretched.  Things won’t go as expected sometimes, and I’ll need to learn to roll with the punches.  I might not have the “ideal birth”, breast-feeding might bear unforeseen challenges, there might be times when I need to choose rest over having a clean house or a home-cooked meal.  I’ll need lots of help, and I’ll have to put aside my pride to ask for it.  That doesn’t mean I’ve failed.  It just means I need to loosen my tight-fisted grip on complete control and pray for flexibility, for patience, for heaping helpings of grace.  And for the ability to stop and soak in the goodness of those pre-meltdown precious moments.  Because the feeling of wrapping my arms around our child is guaranteed to exceed my wildest dreams.

Summer has come early to Seattle!  Or Spring is playing a really mean joke by teasing us with 80-degree temperatures before the weather turns cold and rainy again…  But never mind the inevitable rain – we were all about embracing the sunshine this weekend, playing hard, eating well, and spending lots of time with friends.

We met up with Jack, La Verne, Jason and Nance on Friday night at the Fremont Abbey to take in the St. Paul de Vence / Le Wrens show.  I’ve had St. Paul’s album on repeat for the past month, and it was fun to hear my current favorites live.  Shoot, these guys (and gal) are talented.  I want a banjo.  And a ukelele.

Our friends Em and Daniel gave birth to a perfect little boy while Shane and I were in Austin, and we were super-excited to finally meet him on Saturday.  He’s a cutie.  And wow, Emily makes a beautiful mom.  She’s one of those people that constantly amazes you with her unfailing drive and creative talent (seriously, you should see their home renovation) – it seems motherhood will be her best project yet.

I had a frozen custard Groupon that was burning a hole in my pocket, so we headed to Greenlake on Saturday afternoon to indulge in a couple of gooey sundaes at Peaks.  My word, this stuff was rich.  And delicious.  My sweet tooth has seemed insatiable these days, but this place fulfilled my dessert craving on all fronts.

Driving all that way to eat a bunch of ice cream had tuckered me out, so the rest of the day was spent sitting on the back porch, Kindle in one hand and cold drink in the other.  We ate dinner hot off the grill that night and then caught Iron Man 3 with Jack and La Verne at our neighborhood theater (nothing says Summertime like a superhero blockbuster).  We had maxed out a pretty perfect Saturday.

And Sunday was even better!  A post-church brunch on the patio at Paddy Coyne’s…

and then an afternoon spent celebrating Cinco de Mayo on Josh and Jess’s sunny deck, complete with chicken mole, ice cream chimichangas, and the best virgin margaritas ever.  Oh, and a marathon game of catch between Shane and Zebo.  This kid’s got an arm.  And look at that wind-up!

Mad Men, ice cream sandwiches, a Giants win, and you could stick a fork in this weekend – it was done.  Well, well-done.

Although I murmured a disappointed sigh when I had to pull my coat out of the closet now that we’re back in Seattle, it still feels really, really good to be home.  This weekend was full of all those little things I missed while we were away:

• Our Seattle peeps.  There were so many moments in Texas when we turned to each other and wished our friends were sitting at the bar with us, pigging out on brisket with us, hanging at the park with us.  We got together with the gang yesterday for Jon and Adrienne’s baby shower, and it felt good to be back in the fold, to know how exactly what Nance meant when she said it seemed like we were gone for such a long time.
• Watching the Giants on TV.  Dang, it feels good to veg out in my sweats on a Sunday afternoon.  Even if our boys did get swept by the Padres.  Hmmmph.
• Fresh produce.  I did manage to squeeze in a salad or two between the tacos and the barbecue, but I really missed our fruit bowl while we were traveling.  Don’t get me wrong – ice cream and cheese puffs are still high my list when I get the afternoon snack attack, but that juicy mango I had at lunchtime hit the spot like nothing else.
• Our house.  Our comfortable bed, our large bathroom (his and hers sinks have saved us many a marital conflict), our Japanese maple which brought forth bright new leaves while we were gone.  An afternoon nap on our cozy couch with my favorite blanket was nearly as satisfying as the aforementioned mango.

Like I said, it’s good to be back.  If I could figure out a way to come home each day to clean towels and a fresh-made bed, we might just book our next vacation in Seattle…

We arrived back in Seattle last night – Texas is once again a faraway land, and on Monday we’ll return to work and the associated “real world”. But it was a pretty grand vacation, up until the very end…

We kicked off Thursday with a walk along the riverfront – the Colorado River ran right past our hotel and was bordered by a beautiful walking path that ran for miles in either direction.  We didn’t see quite as much sun as we’d hoped in Austin, but those warm, humid mornings were still wonderfully tropical.  If I can be in a tank top at 10 am, I’m a happy camper.

Post-walk, we grabbed coffee and breakfast tacos at Jo’s – one of the places we’d vowed to return to after our first stroll down South Congress. Their patio is the perfect place to camp out with a book and a latte, and we sat there for awhile, alternately reading and people-watching (this place is hipster central). It’s also the coffee shop with the best graffiti.

We spent the early part of the afternoon at the downtown AMoA Arthouse, taking in their latest contemporary art exhibits. I majorly dug the architecture-inspired drawings by Seher Shah. From there, we picked up a picnic lunch at the market and drove over to the sister Arthouse at Laguna Gloria. The art collection at this site was small, but the grounds were beautiful. Our old friend Steve, Shane’s best man at our wedding, lives in Dallas and made the drive out to Austin to catch up with us over salami and cheese.

We headed back to our hotel and I got some rest while Shane and Steve chilled out on our patio. It was so good to see the easy way they fell into conversation with one another, as if hardly any time had passed in the four years since they last saw each other.

The three of us grabbed dinner that evening at Black Star Brewery. We sat at our table well after we’d finished eating and talked about theology, about dreams for the future, about finding our callings, and then it was time to say good-bye to Steve as he hit the long dusty trail back to Dallas.

I assumed we were calling it a night after that, but Shane had other plans up his sleeve.  I raised my eyebrows when we missed the turn to our hotel, and he grinned that mischievous cocktails-on-the-brain grin of his.  We parked on 4th Street and headed toward Peche, known (in Shane’s circles, at least) for their impressive absinthe selection.  But first, we paused for a moment on the sidewalk to listen to this band’s rendition of “Sweet Home Alabama”.  Gotta love Austin.

Shane’s absinthe pour was all he’d hoped it would be, and I was quite taken with my lime ricotta tart and cherry whipped cream.  Double-score.

We started Friday morning with another long walk along the river (still working off that brisket!), and then brunched Bouldin Creek Cafe.  The food was excellent, the hippie vibe was lots of fun, and I reveled in what I feared may be out last outdoor dining experience for awhile.

We had an evening flight and a couple of hours to kill until then, so we drove up to Mount Bonnell to check out the view of the city.  That morning mist had yet to burn off, so things weren’t super-clear, but the stairclimb definitely did me good.

Temperatures were in the 80’s by this point and we were feeling ready for some lounging, so we drove over to Barton Springs Pool to grab a seat on the lawn.  This pool, an offshoot of the river, is incredible – it’s absolutely huge and has this cool mixed character of man-made and natural.  I wasn’t equipped for a swim, but it felt good to kick our shoes off and lay in the grass for an hour.

A quick stop at the Ice Cream Social truck for waffle cones, one more iced coffee at Jo’s, and then it was time to say so long to Austin.  We were a couple pounds heavier, a bit more tan, and a lot more relaxed than when we’d first arrived – the city had been good us.

Steve asked Shane and I on Thursday night what it was that we hoped wouldn’t change with the arrival of the baby, and this question has been rattling around in my head ever since.  There were so many moments in this trip that were decidedly kid-less (long mornings in bed, late night cocktails, the absence of any sort of set schedule), and as hard as it may be to see that sort of freedom go, I’m ok with it.  But the laughs?  The joy in sharing a new experience?  Our ability to have silly, unbridled fun together, to genuinely enjoy just laying on the grass with one another?  That’s the good stuff, the stuff that’s here to stay.

We hit Texas hard on Wednesday, as we ventured out of Austin for a day full of eating and sight-seeing. First up: real Texas barbecue in nearby Lockhart. We arrived at Kreuz Market around noon and promptly ordered ourselves a pound of the beef brisket, rumored to be the best in the entire state. The man behind the counter shaved four super-thick slices off a warm hunk of just-done beef, slapped it down on a thick sheet of butcher paper with a full stack of Saltine crackers, and directed us to the adjacent dining hall to dig in. We sat down at our table and scratched our heads for a moment over how to go about eating this. Was there barbecue sauce? Forks? No and no. Shane did manage to rummage up a plastic knife, I fetched a lemonade at the drinks counter, and, taking our cue from the cowboy seated next to us, we just had at it. I suppose the thinking is that meat prepared this perfectly doesn’t need sauce or proper utensils, which is a point that’s hard to debate. Tender, moist, perfectly charred around the edges – this was the real deal.

But Shane hadn’t come all this way to let some New York Times article tell him what was the best brisket in Texas – he needed to decide for himself. So we took a few minutes to let round one settle, then made our way over to Black’s Barbecue to see what the alleged runner-up had to offer. We restrained ourselves (a little) at this place, and ordered just one slice of beef, a couple of ribs, and a side of mashed potatoes. I favored this place, where the meat was a little smokier, but Shane favored Kreuz, so I suppose the jury’s still out.

My baby bump was bulging extra big by the time we waddled out of Black’s. Shane read somewhere that babies start to have taste buds at this stage, and that you can actually get them used to the taste of certain foods depending on what you eat while they’re in utero. I guess vegetarianism is out of the question for little Schnell?

From Lockhart, we made the hour-long drive over to San Antonio to check a few things off our to-see list. We started at the Alamo, which admittedly, we found a little underwhelming. The history of the site was interesting, and we learned a few things about the Texas revolution, but after 30 minutes there, we were ready to move on. To be fair, I think we were both in such a deep beef-induced stupor that I’m not sure anything would have captivated us at that point…

We had heard good things about the San Antonio Riverwalk, and that sounded like the perfect way to burn some calories, so we parked our car in the city center and took the nearest staircase down to the waterfront. It was beautiful down there – charming cobblestone bridges, lush tropical plantings, umbrella-covered tables. We walked the loop, loving the sense of “urban oasis” that came with the sound of birds calling overhead.

We happened to be in San Antonio during “fiesta days”, so we followed the sound of live music back up to street level and wandered through the giant street fair taking place adjacent to the central Mercado. A band doing Sublime covers on one stage, a couple of guys crooning smooth Spanish ballads on another, food stands peddling street corn and funnel cakes and fresh fruit – “festive” hardly begins to describe it. I bought a cup of watermelon agua fresca and we took it all in, overwhelmed by the colors and smells and sounds.

We had hoped to have dinner in the city, but the thought of food was still entirely unappealing at 6 pm, so we headed back to Austin, hoping we’d regain our appetites during the drive back. By 8:30, we felt like we were ready for a snack, so we made our way to Papi Tino’s for a light dinner. The perfect Texas tacos continue to elude Shane, but his margarita was top-notch, and the green sauce on my enchiladas was the best I’ve ever had. Determined to live it up and capitalize on Austin’s vibrant night life, we headed over to Donn’s Depot after dinner to check out their house band, which we’d heard packs out the dance floor every night. We were both surprised and amused to walk into the bar and find ourselves the youngest ones there by nearly 40 years. But it’s true – the house band was hoppin’, and the dance floor was packed, so we ordered drinks and snagged a seat to watch those ol’ cowboys and their poofy-haired ladies strut their stuff.

Cheers to a day full of so many memorable moments.