Summer List

It is hilariously ironic to me that I lost this (written August 2011) until now. Haha!

Inspired by Emily at Cupcakes and Cashmere, I made a list of summer things I wanted to be sure I did this season.

Really, this is an excellent approach for someone with a type – AAA personality like me. Lists! Plans! Moving ahead, always! The list makes me remember what I loved about summer in the first place, and reminds me to slow down enough to enjoy it. Not to mention the satisfaction of crossing something off, once done.

In theory. I then proceeded to lose the list until just recently.

Surprisingly, when I stumbled across it a few days ago, I had already accomplished most of these things!

1. Eat dinner outside (at a restaurant)

2. Have lots of picnics — DONE! we’ve been picnicking frequently at Magnuson Park on Lake Washington. The baby ducks make it irresistible. Glorious!

3. Spend the day at the lake — DONE! sort of…well, we’ve spent many afternoons there, so I’m going to say this one is accomplished

4. Paint a canvas — DONE! I painted one really simply, with diagonal stripes. Shockingly, I like it! Usually I hate the finished products of my own crafts

5. Line dry more laundry — DONE! I love line dried laundry, but not towels. Who wants to step out of the shower and grab a sheet of sandpaper? Those still go in the dryer.

6. Make homemade ice cream — DONE! At last I bought myself the long – awaited ice cream maker. Frozen yogurt has been a favorite.

7. Go on a hike

8. Swim in a lake — DONE! We swam in Lake Washington this weekend while the Blue Angels did their thang. I tried not to think about the fish poop and gross slimy plants and pollution.

9. Visit Georgetown — DONE! Took my parents their a couple weeks ago and strolled the neighborhoods and trailer park mall, which is an awesome concept. Loved it!

10. BBQ — DONE! Made kebabs with my in-laws for the fourth of July.  Wouldn’t mind a few more of those, however.

Now that I know this is an effective means of getting myself thinking about the coming season, I made a list of things I’d like to do next summer. Best of all, I’m publishing it so I can’t lose it this time.

– Ride a ferry

–Pick berries

–Go fishing (catch and release)

–Take my husband white water rafting.

Homemade Pizza Crust

Once a week, my husband and I adhere to a tradition we call Family Pizza Night. Why we call it that when it’s just the two of us, I don’t know, but we are loyal to it. It started as a way for me to simplify my meal planning (more on that later). We never get tired of pizza, it’s delicious, and it’s one less meal I have to think about, I can just plan on having it every week.

We love it.

Every week I make the same crust, too. It’s a recipe from my Italian relatives that I am happy to pass along.

1 package yeast

1 T sugar

2 T olive oil

1/2t – 1t salt

4 cups flour

1 1/2 cups hot water

Get out your favorite mixing bowl and dissolve the yeast in the hot water. Once dissolved, at the sugar and 1 1/2 cups of flour. Mix until smooth and let it sit for an hour and a half, until it’s bubbly and elastic. Add the remaining ingredients and knead until smooth and consistent in texture. Stick it back in your mixing bowl and let it rise for at least 1 1/2 hours, 2 to 2 1/2 hours is preferable.

This will make one sort of thick-crust pizza or two thin crust pizzas. Bake at 475 for 12-15 minutes. Bellissima!

Starting Young

When I was in second grade, I went through phase where I would only wear my dress-up-box clothes. This went on for a while before my mother wisely decided I needed some new duds. So, one day I came home from school (in my hideous dress-up box skirt rolled at the waist several times so it didn’t drag on the ground) to find our living room covered in new outfits she had bought and laid out for me. My shouts of joy were disrupted when I was informed I had to do my homework first, but after that I could try everything on and keep what I liked.

I literally remember it like it was yesterday….

the striped jumper with matching bucket hat!

the floral skirt that twirled perfectly!

the purple leggings printed with white bunnies!

the new Easter dress with poofy crinoline and puff sleeves!

the matchy-matchy set of Lion King pajamas!

Thankfully, my taste has changed, but my absolute pure glee over new clothing has not.

Long live the love of all things fashion.

Unexpected Advantage

More old stuff… this was written April 2011

I’ve never been a coffee drinker (coffee makes me talk faster than I do already, be extra-loud, fly around at a million miles an hour and then eventually freak out feeling super nervous about something unidentifiable. Seriously.) but during February I had started drinking a cup of it every afternoon. Why put up with all those nasty side effects? That’s because it seemed like 2 o’clock would hit and I would suddenly just….

drag.

But, alas soon that feeling came at 1 o’clock, eventually at 11am. I tried sleeping more, eating different things, taking different vitamins, but nothing helped. Instead, it was down goes the coffee. That was the only thing that worked. And I would perk up for a little while, but really my energy was just severely lacking. You can blame it on the gray rainy weather, everyone in Seattle does, but it was unusual for me to dread my evening run, something I usually looked forward to. Besides, I’ve lived in the Northwest my whole life, I don’t know anything but the gray and the rain.

Then, I got hit with a nasty, horrible flu and I spent 5 days doing nothing but laying on the living room floor feeling miserable. I slept a lot. I wasn’t tired, but even watching movies seemed like too much work. When I recovered from my flu, miraculously, my energy was back! In full force! I haven’t drank coffee in nearly a month, I have enjoyed running again, and I feel awake.

If you’re medically inclined you might try to explain this somehow, but the truth is I really don’t care why I feel better now, I’m just glad I do.

Who knew good things could come out of the flu?

Keepin it Real

Well guess what I wrote this one in March 2012 also. I like it too so I’m publishing it also. Ha!

I love blog reading. I love looking at outfits put together impeccably well, beautiful photos from travels, delicious and decadent recipes, and meticulously designed homes.

I have a tendency to feel like my life should look exactly that way. Well, it doesn’t.

We bought a house in November that was in major states of disrepair. We (mostly my husband) have slaved over it since then, but it has a majorly long way to go. Gone are the rancid-smelling carpets and neon-painted rooms. Gone are the 10,700lbs of crap the previous owners left in the backyard and throughout the house (that is the actual weight of a gigantic dumpster we filled with that crap and then paid lots of money to get rid of).  Gone is the downstairs shower that looked like it came from a horror movie. Everything we do on this house costs way more and takes so, SO much longer than I expected/imagined.

The first day we had the house, I was scrubbing the tile surround in the shower when I realized one of the tiles felt….squishy. A couple others wiggled. I pulled one off, because it was about to fall off, to find the drywall behind the tile completely sodden and crumbling with the texture of old, wet newspaper. Before you knew it, we had pulled down half the walls in the bathroom and discovered a leak under the sink.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This was not planned for. I was so upset, and frankly, sad. We frantically called my Dad in Portland, because he knows about these sorts of things. He reassured us all would be OK, but having zero knowledge of home-y things, I wasn’t so sure. Thankfully my parents came to visit that weekend and my Dad and husband replaced the drywall and surround while my in-laws, mother, and I pulled carpet staples out of the hardwood floors (they had been hidden under the nastiest-smelling carpet I’ve ever seen) and painted over a neon yellow room, a bright green room the color of chewing gum, and a piggy-pink bathroom (all flesh-colored peachy-pink, including the ceiling, in high-gloss paint).

The house is old and not insulated. We got our first heating bill and I wanted to cry. It was at least four times what we had expected. Ouch.

There have been some ugly days in this house. There have been some fun days. There have been some very happy days. There have been some very depressing days.

The thing I’ve learned is this: Who cares! There is nothing wrong with having a nice house, but for me, I had taken it too far. It mattered to me far too much. I don’t want to be one of those people who perpetually wants the next house that’s bigger, better, more beautiful. Surely that one, the next one, will be The One. After you buy That House, you’ll never need another house the rest of your days. I know people who have said this for the last several houses they’ve bought, and a currently saying this about the future house they want. I have fallen into the same trap, but I don’t want to again.

Here’s the hard truth: if I (or you for that matter) can’t be happy in the house I have now, I won’t be happy in the next one either. I won’t be happy with any house.

I’m learning slowly, haltingly, to look for the beautiful moments in life. In the every day, the mundane, the typical. For example, today was entirely ordinary. But my husband was especially funny, I drew a ridiculous hamster in Draw Something, and there was actual sunshine on my evening run. Pandora read my mind and played beautiful tunes for the whole thing.

I don’t want to see my life as half-empty, or even half-full, but overflowing. There are so many amazing moments in every, single, ordinary or extraordinary day. Beauty, grace, and mercy abound. Blessings pour from the sky, but I’m not always looking.

My hardwood floors aren’t refinished (something I wanted done sooooo badly, so long ago), we haven’t filed our taxes, and I’m not in the kind of shape I had hoped to be in for our upcoming vacation, but even so it’s all good stuff. I’ll serve sandwiches for dinner and not style my hair for days. I’ll have a new shirt I’ve wanted to wear for weeks, but I haven’t bothered to iron it yet. I’ll never get enough sleep. I’ll forget to look for good things, but it doesn’t matter so long as I start again. It’s still all a great, beautiful life.

Yours is, too, if you look for it.

So we got a house

I just found this draft I wrote on March 27th of 2012 – well, it’s good, so I’m publishing it now.

I’ve thought this whole thing out a million times in my head, but getting the words right is tricky. Let me start by saying…..

I don’t get this right all the time, or even most of the time, but I’m trying. Now, then, here we go…

I read at least 25 blogs religiously. I love ‘em. The gorgeous outfits, the delicious, decadent recipes, the impeccably decorated homes, the lovely, dreamy travels. Perfection.  Beautiful. Aspirational lifestyle.

My life doesn’t look a thing like it. Neither does yours, and it’s okay because neither does theirs.

When we bought our house in November, I really wanted to blog all our renovations for my family and friends to keep track, and for them to alternately laugh with us and feel sorry for us. I took almost no before pictures. I’m sparing your eyes those atrocities. It’s been a battle, this home. The bathroom walls darn near collapsed the first day. We discovered a leak we straight-up couldn’t fix. The previous owners left piles of crap in the yard and throughout the house. The carpets smelled rancid. It wasn’t liveable, and we had already given notice at our rented condo. The clock was ticking, and there wan’t much time.

I knew the house needed a complete overhaul when we put the offer on it. But having never done these things before, I thought the work would be no big deal. Fun! Easy!

Wrong.

It’s hard. I want to live in a beautiful house decorated with all the Ligne Roset furniture my little heart desires. Someday, our house will be exactly what we want it to be. That day is much farther off than I thought.

Here’s what I’m learning: who cares!

There’s nothing wrong with a completely lovely home. Nothing. But for me, I cared about if far too much. I felt like if I didn’t have that, well, how was I supposed to be happy?! I don’t want to be like that. I don’t want my happiness to hinge on stuff, big or small. I don’t want to be one of those people who’s constantly discontent, feeling like they’ll be happy in the next house that’s bigger, better, more beautiful. Surely That House is the last one they’ll ever need.

I know people who have been saying that for several houses in a row now, and are currently saying it about the future house. I was like that, too. I couldn’t be satisfied with our rented condo. I always thought: I need more space! Now! That I own! And no carpet! Then we went from 2 bedrooms to 4, from 620sq feet to 1,750 + 2 car garage + big yard and already I was thinking: I could use a few more rooms. Folks, there are only two of us. We don’t even have the damn dog yet!

Here’s the honest, hard truth: If I can’t be happy with my house now, I will never be happy with any house. The same applies to anyone else.

On Homeownership

I started typing the title with my fingers one off on the keyboard so it started as ” pm Jpmepwmersjo[” well that makes perfect sense, right?

Let’s get back to the topic at hand.

November 21, 2011. We plunked down a saddening amount of cash, signed several trees worth of paper, and got keys from our rockstar realtor (true story: I almost asked him if he wanted to be my best friend, but caught myself at the last minute. What can I say? He was super great. You understand).

What came next was a whirlwind. We ripped up carpet. We tore down scary metal awnings waiting for a freak gust of wind that would allow them to topple and infect us with tetanus*. We torn down a deck roof that one of our more honest friends said made our house seem like a meth lab. We rented an enormous dumpster and paid nearly $1,000 to haul away the mountains of crap left my the previous owners (If I ever meet them in a dark alley…! What the hell were they thinking…! Who raises these people…?!). We bought a roof. We got a dog. We watched the bank account balance drop and then drop some more.

I hated the house. I reminded myself what I “loved” about it: the space! the yard is fenced! I have my own office! I turned one bedroom into a closet! but that nasty little attitude still infected my soul. It crept. It made me grumpy, angsty, prone to outbursts. The garage flooded. The bathroom wall nearly collapsed. Everything cost more money than I could have imagined. I thought I missed my cramped condo.

I was upset the house wasn’t everything I wanted it to be. I was angry I didn’t like DIY projects the way I had imagined I would (newsflash: I hate getting dirty. No yard work, no painting. I want to stay clean and always have a shower at the ready). Everything took more work than I thought, cost more than I thought, and every project snowballed: “If we’re going to rip up the carpet, let’s get rid of the trin. And the tile. Well, let’s go ahead and re-tile. Hey, I don’t even like the fireplace. Yeah, let’s redo that too” Do I make myself sound bratty and spoiled? That’s because I was am was am. I was angry the house wasn’t what I deserved. It wasn’t like my friends houses, or houses in magazines. It wasn’t my dream house (because I was 25 when we bought it, and don’t all 25-year-olds buy their dream houses?). It was going to take too long to become my dream house and when it finally got there the work to maintain it sounded like too much, also. Why wasn’t my house more like someone else’s?

Well, it took me a while but guess what: it’s not a mistake that I have the life I do. This is the one designed for me. This is the house God knew I would buy. With it’s floors in need of refinishing, tiny bedrooms, ailing kitchen, and small-ish mortgage that still seems crazy expensive to people who rented an itty bitty condo before. And having the house “finished” (ha! That elusive end goal, fading like the end of a rainbow) would not make it feel more like the home I day-dreamed about, or romanticized. It would just make it different, and – let’s be honest – make the dirt more obvious, yikes. The house I have is still my home, the one where real life happens. And real life, ordinary as it is, is still pretty sweet. I’m typing this on the living room rug with my dog sitting on my lap, my husband beside me, and the smell of fresh-mowed grass still in the air (also the smell of dog-in-need-of-a-bath, but let’s not focus on the details, ok?). This is a pretty sweet life, even if it isn’t the one I dreamed up for myself out of the pages of a magazine.

*while the metal awning didn’t send us rushing to the ER for a tetanus shot, an old roof nail did. We had just gotten our dog as a little puppy and I ran outside to take him potty because he was doing that circling thing. Well, our roof had just been replaced and I stepped on an errant rusty old nail from the old roof. Try to think long and hard about that and not get shivers down your spine. And so to the doctor I went for my tetanus shot.   Boo.