Easter

The sun was out, the line at Trophy Cupcakes was out the door and snaking around the corner, and I was at work selling bedding like nobody's business. In this "progressive" city, where hardly anybody's rear graces the pew of a church, you can bet your bottom dollar that the retail industry was poppin' as if it were any other weekend. But it wasn't any other weekend; it was Easter Sunday. I was a bit disheartened to not wake up and go to church with my family, or prepare the usual Easter fare with them at home. Yet somehow, the absence of tradition made the evening we spent together all the more inviting to silly diversions. And indeed, it was one for the books.

Now, as you don't understand the nuances of my family's interactions, bear with me, because this is probably going to be one of those "you had to be there" moments. Imagine if you will, a family of five. They have just eaten dinner down at Point Defiance on the Puget Sound, and have yet to partake in an Easter egg hunt. It's dusk, there are couples walking and holding hands, and cars are driving through the park at regular intervals past their parked car. Dad pulls a plastic grocery bag (Yes, Seattleites, other cities in Washington are still using plastic bags. The horror!) from the back end of the car, and in endearingly dorky fashion proceeds to place clumps of Easter eggs (a whole gamut of themes, including Hello Kitty, polka dots, and sports balls) on posts along a cement wall.

This is totally one of those instances mirroring the common movie scene where adolescents shrink down in their seats and cover their faces in embarrassment, thinking, "This is not happening right now. I am mortified." But upon their realization that family is more important than putting on a cool facade, suddenly the whole car is filled with increased levels of carbon dioxide from the can't-hardly-breathe laughter spewing from four people and a small dog, all of whom are doubled over in fits of hilarity at the sight of Papala. This is happening, and it's hilarious.

Beyond that, they hear the clinking in those eggs, and they know they can earn a couple bucks in quarters by getting their hands on some. Commence the abrupt opening and slamming of car doors, a quick sprint, and a full on grab session. Basket-less and scrambling to tuck eggs under their arms for maximum storage, they run back to the car to open their loot. Lincoln's head on one side, and the Lincoln Memorial on the other. Pennies. The eldest daughter shouts, "This sucks! This is total BS!" (a Bulldog reference for all you Frasier fans out there).

But oh, wait! What's this? Dad is holding a stack of $1 bills, fresh from the Federal Reserve and in consecutive numerical order. You see, one penny equals $1, and therefore the eldest daughter makes out with 18 pennies, and therefore $18. The fastest money she has ever made. Hoorah! There are bills to be paid tonight!

Well done, parents. Skip the jelly beans and Reese's, and get right to the heart of what matters: cash. Jesus is risen, right? God bless America.

All this to say, holidays and their ensuing traditions (or lack thereof) come in many different forms; different for each family, and sometimes varying from year to year within a single family. For mine, the absence of routine resulted in an Easter that none of us will soon forget. Memories are just like that. They come from unexpected moments, which when reflected on as a collective unit make you realize just how good life has been to you, scratch that, how good God has been good to you. In the midst of a silly secular Easter tradition, we were reminded of the blessing of loving family. It is because of my upbringing that I even have the mindset to bring full circle the story of an Easter egg hunt and relate it to the source of my family's joy, and that is the promise of salvation in Jesus Christ. 

or . ange

They (whoever "they" are) say orange is the new black. I say it has always been fashionable. After all, I've been donning it for nearly 23 years. In Seattle it's cold and gray, but really that's no surprise, now is it? Here is a little color therapy to get you through your day. Goodness knows it's helping me get through mine.

Orange you glad I didn't say banana?

Passing The Time

One might ask, 'What does one do in Seattle during winter?'. The appropriate answer: wait for spring! I must admit, January through March is the most dismal time of the year for me. I loathe it. Why is it such a struggle for me to be outwardly joyous in winter? Low levels of contact with the outdoors. Except for the extremely rare occurrence of a cloudless day, winter in Seattle, the University District in particular, is a sad, bare, brown pit. There is nothing worse than being cooped up indoors, especially when it's dark outside the majority of the day. As Anne Shirley would say, it leaves little scope for the imagination.

To bring this full circle, what do I do during winter to stay afloat? Brew a cup of tea, read my book, laugh at said book, have another cup of tea, and repeat this every day for 3 months.

I tend to be a marathon reader, meaning I like to finish a book in a single week. I can sit for up to 4 hours before needing to stretch my legs. My preferred reading positions include curling up knees to chest, slumping so far down in an armchair that the top of my head is level with its arms, and sitting at a the bar of a coffee shop with hands framing my tucked down forehead, and shielding fellow caffeine fiends from immediate view.

Drinking tea while reading is a holy concept, and therefore absolutely necessary. Be it peppermint, Earl Gray, English breakfast, oolong, or lychee (my preferred varieties), tea becomes vital for strength and hydration during such extended stretches of reading. But more than that, tea is a calming nourishment. Its warmth seeps into my body, as slowly and lovingly as the words on the pages themselves. Sometimes after my cup has been emptied, I hold it under my nose to soak in the lingering scent (one of my many bizarre quirks).

As for the books themselves, no explanation of their enjoyment and effect are necessary. Only that, as Descartes once said, "The reading of all good books is like a conversation with the most eminent people of past centuries." Those chats are often the most interesting part of my day.

Sunshine Dreams

I love football. It's red-blooded America in its most concentrated form. The thrill of pushing towards a first down, the uneasy tension of a close game, uproar over a horrible call, the sudden excitement of a great run or a pick six. You get the point. And now you're wondering, what does all this have to do with the photos above?

Traveling with the team, friends. Possibly the greatest benefit of my brother playing college football. I am itching to travel in Europe and Asia during spring and fall of 2014. For now, excursions in the U.S. will suffice to satiate my appetite for new places and experiences.

L.A. is one of our destinations this coming fall. 

(special thanks to L.A. based Joy Cho at her blog Oh Joy!, where I got the yummy photos from her 'Eats')

Sisters, Sisters

"I'm so lucky to have such a fun sister like you!" If that isn't the ultimate compliment, then by golly tell me what is!

My sister, Caroline, is 10. She is the only child (besides our dog) that is still at home with my parents. My brother and I are just a short drive down the road; 30 minutes down the freeway to Seattle (me) and another 30 minutes to Tacoma (him). I'd say as a family we all got a pretty good deal out of the whole in-state college thing. My parents are welcome to come visit either of us at any time, and we have the luxury of being able to go home when our schedules allow.

As wonderful as it is that my family is able to spend a good amount of time together, I have come to understand the importance of building a personal relationship with my sister, just us two. Now that I am graduated and living with only 6 girls (as opposed to 15...) I am better able to devote time and have the space to entertain her. 

One of the most wonderful things about loving someone is that, oftentimes, just being in their presence is enough. While Caroline and I surely had some adventures over the weekend when she stayed the night with me in Seattle, even just sitting in my room and reading our books in silence was ok by us. 12 years may separate us in age, but at our core, our interests are roughly the same. Caroline is beyond her years, and I still feel a connection to many things I enjoyed in my childhood, making it easy to find things we enjoy doing together. Our Sunday night included seeing Monsters, Inc. in 3-D at the $3 theater, snapping iPhone pics of ourselves, painting our toenails neon colors with heavy glitter overlay, and making a 10 PM trip to Target, the result of which was becoming the proud owner of a Hello Kitty air-popper popcorn machine. 

In the morning I surprised Caroline with a trip to Pike Place Market. Saying that she and I both love farmer's markets is an understatement. We watched rustic men sling fish while she ate a giant pickle from the old-fashioned jar at DeLaurenti, and I sipped on an Americano from the original Starbucks. For lunch we sat at the glass window of the Crumpet Shop, watching a man cut away excess dough from crumpets freshly pulled from a giant oven. We made our treats last as long as we could; me with my crumpet topped with ricotta and raspberry preserves, and Caroline with her apple cinnamon piroshky. Our efforts were further prolonged when I took a bite of her pickle, its juice flying in spout-like fashion over her head and onto the glass, causing a bellowing laugh from the man sitting next to us, and the need for more than a couple paper napkins. We made friends with the man selling jazz apples on the corner, who I think through his witty banter was trying to sell more than just apples to me. Caroline showed her love for everything truffled as we sampled many things flavored by those extraordinary little fungi. 

As if her sophisticated taste for truffle wasn't enough to stun me, Caroline remarked how the jewelry in the antique shop was so very Lady Mary and Downton Abbey-like. We picked out our favorite engagement rings from the 1920s, and oogled over diamonds and fabulous costume jewelry. Walking along the pier, Caroline enjoyed salt water taffy from a brown paper bag as we guarded ourselves with our down coats against the sea breeze and watched the ferris wheel turn. 

Most importantly, we laughed...at everything. I think people thought we were a bit ridiculous. We were just amused by ourselves and enjoying being together. More than once we were asked by vendors how we knew each other. The formality and ignorance of people astounds me. "What do we live for but to make sport for our neighbors, and laugh at them in our turn?" Wise words from Mr. Bennett of Pride & Prejudice, and exactly the aim of these two sisters. All we cared about was sharing the little world we created between the two us.

We're not lucky; we're blessed, yes.

New Year's Eve

Moveable

The kiddos went back to school today. For the first time since before the start of preschool, roughly 18 years ago, I did not join them. I saw students with fresh books and a hustle in their steps walking en masse down Greek Row and onto campus. As for me, I sauntered and lagged behind. I fancied a good laugh right about then over how ridiculous I had probably looked in the past, struggling to make it to class on time (on more than just a few occasions), just like I saw others doing now. 

To be fair, I am sure I will miss school at some point in my life. Nostalgia will inevitably arise during some random 40 hour workweek. My brain will skip over the stressful former reality of studying, and instead choose to focus on the countless pajama days I once enjoyed, and of hours spent in my bed writing papers and reading. Even now it sounds horrid, but I'm sure the day will come when I long to reclaim my youth and the constant acquiring of knowledge that came with it.

Knowledge, however, doesn't stop at age 22. While the end of school is clearly the finale of my educational foundation, it is also a jumping off point for the rest of my life. To compensate for my failure to feel distraught over not having to back to school today, I started my book club read. Yes, I am in a book club. A few friends and I started it. Four young women; three graduates, and one still in undergrad; two international studies majors, one English major, and one art history and communication major. It is a small group, but our interests and backgrounds are guaranteed to result in tasteful reads and fantastic conversation. There will probably also be treats, not only for the mind, but also our stomachs (girls, I promise to always bake new treats for you, so long as you approve of being my taste-testing guinea pigs). We are to call ourselves "The Moveable Feast". 

I hope to engage in a moveable feast all my life. Just as Paris stayed with Hemingway for the rest of his days, I too anticipate my experiences, influences, and memories accompanying and shaping me along the way (hopefully with personal memories of Paris thrown into the mix). I also hope to be part of other people's moveable feast, impressing myself and therefore my God upon them in a way that is positive, and hopefully eternal. 

Shall we strive to always be learning and growing? Let us do just that. Let us never be satisfied with being content.