Hoppipolla

Happy Birthday three days ago, Hopey! Great people are hard to come by, but it's kind of amazing when one of them agrees to be your friend. Hope perfectly displays her name's truth in the way she lives. I should say imperfectly. Far from perfect, she shows me what it means to be a beautiful work in progress. She brings hope to the table of our friendship in so many aspects, including - but not limited to - laughter, anticipation of the future, wistful ambition, desire for Right in this world, challenge, guidance, growth, love.

I got to hang out with this one on the 24th anniversary of her birth (on the 24th day of the month - golden!). She and one of her Swiss friends from Nepal, Pierre, came to DC for a couple nights to hang out and to see Sigur Ros. Sunday morning we celebrated with mimosas, homemade cinnamon rolls, and fried eggs, and then lazied about our day (I don't know that lazy is ever a verb, but it is today), watching Macklemore and SNL videos until the concert that night.

Sigur Ros was incredible - although I don't recommend the venue. It was a bit like eating a gourmet meal in a fast food restaurant. The Patriot Center should be reserved for basketball games; epic performances like these deserve a theater. I might have wept a bit during Hoppipolla, and I was covered during the whole performance with goose bumps.

On Monday Pierre left to go home to Geneva, and Hope hung with me until Megabus took her away. We talked and drank wine and made homemade pizza and listened to good music and fell back into our rhythm before she went on her way. It was a fabulous weekend. Pierre was a perfect Swiss gentleman who reawakened my desire to learn French, and Hope was Hope.

This week is full of preparation for finals (Philip) and same ol' same ol' for me. Which is totally fine. I'm comfortable with a routine on which I can depend for awhile. Philip expressed an interesting idea on Monday that I feel I should share. We love our work. But we seem to go through all of the stages of grief on Mondays: Denial that it's no longer the weekend, then sadness, then anger at how behind we feel on work and how unmotivated we are to catch up, and finally acceptance. Acceptance for me usually comes on Tuesday morning. Tuesday is a day where I wake up glad for coffee, eager to see my coworkers' faces, and happy it's no longer Monday. By hump day, it's mid week, and the pressure lessens at work, people begin to relax, and weekend plans are made.

I wonder what it would be like to just enjoy every day for whatever it has to offer...

I leave you with a small taste of our concert on Sunday. Enjoy your Wednesday! And y'all. Despite the weather's recent defiance, it's Spring. Get excited.

don't you wish your boyfriend was andy dwyer?

Does anyone actually encapsulate the phrase "their own person"? I mean, is there anyone who actually doesn't care and is content with who they are and who they will become whether or not it takes a long time? If I did find this person (or think I had), I would never want to peg that person because how incredibly presumptuous of me to assume that anyone could possibly have it figured out...and how, by me simply peeking into that person's life, can I possibly have a clue what is going on in their lives?

I have this idea that everyone belongs to someone or something. Not that they are totally defined by something or someone, but I think everyone has a place in their souls that gets filled up by certain things and feels empty when those things aren't not there. I used to think that kids were pretty good examples of "own persons". But in reality, even as a kid I tried to stay in the haven of my parent's approval.

Moving on to something less human. Animals take pride in belonging. My dog will do anything as long as I love her forever and ever and never yell. It's true. She maintains her need for attention but only to the most dire of her needs; if she knows I am in the least dissatisfied, she immediately comes over to see how she can fix me. Why are we so in tune to what people want? Why can't we be content with who we are no matter how it affects us?

We can't. I honestly don't think we were created as creatures of solitude, either in physical presence or within our own thoughts. We are imperfect thinkers and doers and be-ers, and bouncing ideas and perspectives off other people brings us closer to the way it's supposed to be. And let's face it. It's not the way it's supposed to be. Nothing is.

But oh the glimpses of beauty! Before my husband and I got married, he gave me the book "Into the Wild", which I quickly devoured to find something even more precious on the back cover. Philip had written the words "experiencing beauty" at the top; the remainder of the page was covered in words we can only associate with "the way things are supposed to be". Some included "forgiveness. tears. truth. sunsets. sunrises. realizing how much you care." And it went on and on until I was in a puddle of tears, wrapped in the emotion of the terribly redemptive story I'd just read and the truth that had been showered over me. Chris McCandless did a lot of searching for a place to belong and even though he didn't discover the truth until he was nearly dead, he reached a culmination of finally getting it in the form of these words scrawled on a piece of paper: "happiness is only real when shared".

Thank God there are other people in the world. To keep me in check, to humble me, to whittle me down to my core, to pray for me, to excuse me, to give me all these millions of chances, to listen, to reorient me, to yell at me, to cry with me, to be mad at me, to laugh with me, to embark with me. So I'm here in the city with a few friends that are just as busy as me, and I'm here to tell them: I want to share happiness with you. There are so many things that make me happy, and I want to enjoy them with new friends and old friends. Thanks for accepting me, District of Columbia. You're growing on me.

In honor of my sweet home...

I would like to end today's post by making a case that Andy Drywer from Parks and Rec, is the most "his own person" ever. And let's be real. He's not real. Enjoy a buzz feed moment...

http://www.buzzfeed.com/daves4/examples-of-why-you-should-wish-that-your-best-friend-was-an

top o' the afternoon

In the spirit of St. Patty's it only seemed appropriate to wake up as late as possible on this happy Sunday and make an Irish breakfast. Without access to black pudding or proper scones and clotted cream, I found a recipe for Irish Soda Bread with currants...but I exchanged currants for blueberries because they sounded great.

It turned out fantastic, and I advise you to make this every morning for breakfast for the rest of your lives...or just tomorrow. While you bake, you might listen to something that puts a jig in your step. For me that was Tegan and Sara's latest album. **note: the best way to describe this album is catchy. It is definitely going to appeal to the masses.

Back to the bread:

Irish Soda Bread

Time: 45 minutes

Yield: 8 servings

3 tablespoons unsalted butter, chilled and cubed, more for greasing pan

2 cups whole wheat pastry flour

1/4 cup sugar

1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon salt

 3/4 teaspoon baking soda

2/3 cup buttermilk (then a tad more for brushing at the end)

1 large egg

about 2/3 cup dried currants or raisins or blueberries

1. Heat oven to 375 degrees. Lightly grease a round baking tin.

2. In a large bowl, whisk together flours, sugar, baking powder, salt and baking soda. Using a pastry cutter or your fingers, work in butter until mixture forms coarse crumbs. In a small bowl, whisk together buttermilk and egg. If you don't have buttermilk, add a bit of lemon juice to milk to curdle the milk just enough to create a passable buttermilk. Stir wet mixture into dry one until they just form a moist dough. Then add in 2/3 cup of whichever berry you choose.

3. Turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface. Spread dough into a round baking tin. Brush tops with a little buttermilk, and dust lightly with flour.

4. Transfer tin to oven. Bake until bread is golden brown and firm, 20 to 25 minutes. Cool 10 minutes before serving. Cut into 8 slices, and serve with lots and lots of butter.

Enjoy! 

let's have another go

The one thing I've learned about creating something pretty is that I can't take myself too seriously. When whatever I'm doing tailspins into fuming frustration, throwing things, disposing of whatever creation I've begun, and tears, I might be taking myself too seriously. This can rear its ugly head in so many forms, but the ones I've experienced the most are when I'm cooking, painting, doing almost any math problem, navigating around PhotoShop, sewing with a machine...really just attempting creativity. I'm not saying you should chuck whatever logic you try to insert into the project...that would be careless. I'm saying it's important to drink a glass of wine before you do these things or else you get lost in the outcome and can't experience the learning, the moments of inspiration during your work, the laughter, the enjoyment of the activity. If you can't drink a glass of wine, I suggest listening to great music or doing these activities with someone who is just as bad at them as you are - see below:

My good friend and I attempting to paint while we watch the horrific season finale of Downton Abbey

In reference to this need to not take myself too seriously and my tendency to do so, I've been revamping my blog. It's been existing in the cyber void, but existing is the pretty bleak extent of it. Writing every few months isn't good for my ability to be consistent or for my creative outlet. I want to talk about things. Things that matter and are important and are written down and can be rooted in the soil of my continually growing mind. This isn't supposed to be a journal, or else there would be even less tact than the bit I can sometimes muster in public. But I do want to record the goings on and the beauty and the realizations that occur to a writer on a regular basis. With that - I would like to say I've missed you, and I promise to offer more for anyone that has the slightest interest.

So let's talk for a hot second about the latest. My job is going well. I'm learning new things all the time. Philip is applying for Fulbright in London, so we could potentially end up there after grad school (Fall 2014). Be still my heart. Could it be? I swoon at the thought of ending up there even if it's just for a year. The dog has become my favorite running partner, and I even got her up to 6 miles today. She usually decides she's had enough at about 3. I am doing well, but I continue to have emotional issues that need to be addressed, and I try very hard to avoid them. It would probably help if I opened the door a bit wider spiritually. The struggle continues in my ability to love well, my determination to push past complacency, and my resolve to be less self focused.

Finally, I have very dear friends coming into town next weekend to watch the most glorious concert on the planet - Sigur Ros. I will cry, and it will be a good soaking cry, much like the kind you have when you see someone you love get married or at the end of Homeward Bound. Delight. And something else. It's not sadness, but it's sort of that wistful feeling that accompanies happy tears. With the arrival of our Icelandic friends will be my Hope, and we will cry together - at how beautiful God makes the world and people and music and how very little we understand it all.

Here is the last two-ish weeks in pictures.

Grandma, I wear Grandpa's shirt all the time. In honor of his birthday tomorrow, here is what happens when you put Grandpa's flannel on a girl.

Philip made the best sushi ever, and it was even good the second day.

Peregrine Espresso -  a classic Eastern Market shop that isn't just confined to Eastern Market anymore. There are now 3 opportunities to partake of this delicious art in DC. Then you too can be the lame Instagramer of a latte. 

Mina and I have daily adventures to various parks to play with her new "Chuck It". It is the laziest way to throw a ball super far and make your dog exhausted for the rest of the day.

This is the friendly face that will greet you when you come to visit us. Come soon.