poll

spruce

I wish I could always be the woman I was yesterday.

After I got settled in at work, I headed for a 4-hour seminar the Forensics department was holding for high school and college students interested in job shadow and internship opportunities. I am going to serve as a kind of "administrator" for the program - receiving applications for the seminar submitted online and orchestrating enrollment. I sat in on this, the first of many periodic presentations, in order to provide some critical feedback on how to improve the seminar in the future. Not to mention that I love learning more about forensics and I dream of someday joining that department.

At the end of the 4-hour block, I met with a crime scene technician and a criminalist to complete evaluations on the students who attended. Back at my desk, I compiled the notes I'd been taking throughout the presentation and emailed them to the Sergeant of the department.

By then it was 2:30pm, so the rest of the day flew by. I finished up some errant projects that had been floating around on my desk and even managed to get plans for a January Scentsy party underway. It dawned on me late in the day that I had promised to make breakfast for the following day's executive staff meeting. I filtered through AllRecipes and decided on two dishes.

After a quick MAX ride home, I narrowly missed catching the bus that would take me closer to the grocery store where I needed to pick up some last minute ingredients. So instead, I started hiking down the long hill toward the store, my legs moving faster than I thought was possible. I was chilly due to being slightly underdressed, but I felt great! Alive!

I soon trudged further down the hill to home, my arms heavy with bags of groceries and lovely gifts I received at work. My two babies, Oliver and Aurora, greeted me at the door (scratch that; they were asleep on the couch, oblivious to my arrival) and I got to work. The first order of business was to clean up the kitchen so I could make it a mess again. I simultaneously did some laundry, texted my family to thank them for the fabulous package they sent, and set out all the ingredients I needed.

For a couple hours I worked on the two breakfast dishes I had chosen: cranberry pecan coffeecake and a vegetable cheese strata. I'd never made either of these items before, so I focused hard on avoiding any fatal errors born of carelessness. I completed the coffeecake prep and popped it in the oven. While that baked, I did all the prep and assembly for the strata, which I was going to cook in the morning. The coffeecake finally finished and I let it cool for a few minutes before nervously plopping it out upside-down onto a pretty plate. Glory be! This was a gorgeous masterpiece of deep scarlet berries made soft by the heat, crispy pecans, and a golden glaze of brown sugar.

The cell phone photo may not do it justice.

I poured the strata mixings into a prepared baking dish and it looked alright to me. I'd never even seen a strata before, so I didn't have much to go off of. I secured it in the fridge and did a little bit of re-cleaning in the kitchen.

...wrote a note to Husband and climbed into bed with The Shining - which has been scaring the bejesus out of me each night. A productive day, followed by a productive, yet relaxing evening at home. I'm happy. The spirit of the holidays has infused me and I'm able to see the good that saturates my lucky life. Here are some grainy highlights, in no particular order (actually, I guess it's alphabetical in terms of how I named the file):

"cats" - (striped Aurora and tuxedo Oliver - best friends forever)

"immersion" (new blender - best kitchen tool ever!)

"jesse" (husband. love of my life.)

secondarily "mexican food" (from Cha Cha Cha Taqueria)

"rainy" (Oregon - the land I love)

gold leaf

Pictorial Webster's: Inspiration to Completion from John Carrera on Vimeo.

positive reinforcement

Friday's work day was drawing to a close and I was awfully conflicted about how to spend my evening. Jesse and I had planned to attend the holiday party for our new apartment community, but when he picked up a dinner shift at work, I didn't really want to venture out alone. Teresa had invited me to Newberg for a night of Patron tequila, cheesy fries, and gossip, but the 40 minute drive and threat of freezing rain were dissuading factors.

I grabbed a long memo from my desk to proofread at home, anticipating a self-imposed lonely night on the couch. I hopped on the MAX and headed east toward home, all the while mulling over my options. The closer I got, the more seriously I was considering going to the holiday party alone. One of the big draws for Jesse and I had been a raffle contest for anyone who brought an item to donate to Toys for Tots. As I disembarked from the train, I decided to go for it. I walked over to a grocery store very near our apartment and chose a Crayola art set to bring.

It was still a bit early, so I went to our house to unpack my work bag and have a small glass of emboldening wine. Once it was safely past the party's start time, I walked down the hill with my donation in hand. Entering the party, I could hardly believe my eyes. It was an amazing improvement in holiday spirit from our prior apartment home. There was a National Guardsman taking toys and handing out raffle tickets in exchange. A live rock band played in the corner and several people huddled around the crackling fireplace.

I walked down the main hallway to a room full of people. One large table displayed an array of appetizers, while another had at least 10 kinds of desserts. Wine was being served at the bar. I grabbed food and drink and wandered around aimlessly, trying to decide how long to stay. I spotted two girls chatting and eventually talked myself into going over and saying hi.

The girls, Sarah and Clara (for real), and I talked for quite a while, when suddenly the raffle ceremony was announced. Everyone crowded into the main room, pink raffle tickets clutched in their hands. Many prizes were up for grabs, including gift cards to a grocery store, Target, P.F. Changs, and Claim Jumpers. Sarah was one of the first to win - a handy Target card. Not too long after, Clara won a Shell gasoline gift card. The female half of the couple in front of us declared a desire to win a grocery store gift card because it'd be just enough for two "Snuggies." Her husband or boyfriend immediately won that prize.

I was left the only one in our trio who hadn't won anything. It wasn't heartbreaking, but I felt a bit left out. The apartment employee announced that they were about to draw the ticket for the final, and most impressive prize - $500 off of a tenant's January rent. She pulled a ticket and slowly read the numbers. 1...4...0...4...9...5!

I breathed a loud, sudden sigh. I WON! I felt like a celebrity as I walked up front to submit my ticket, a camera flashing in my face and people reaching out to congratulate me.

So that makes my third contest win since I adopted contest entering as a renewed hobby! The moral of the win for me was that I should get out more often - talk to people and ditch any plan to take the boring, lonely route. Yay!

happier

As I waited for the MAX train this morning at 7:30am, I took note of the clean, eerie shade of pale blue the sky had taken. All the objects in my sight were sharp silhouettes of dark, dark brown-gray against that palette. A puff of my white breath clouded my view and I was reminded of how hard it has been to find energy during the start of this cold season.

I think most of the trouble lies in the fact that it's dark when I leave for work and dark by the time I arrive home in the evening. I have a mental list of nebulous ideas that need consideration, projects that need work, but there's always a deep chill in the air and my motivation apparently thrives (however minimally) only in warmth and light.

And so I've begun to explore The Happiness Project in an attempt to hone good emotions and achievement of some kind. This project was created by an apparently busy, motivated woman named Gretchen Rubin who, as her website explains, has spent a year "test-driving studies and theories about how to be happier." Gretchen is publishing a book just after Christmas about the process involved in and results of her research. The website provides a wealth of information, articles, and ideas about infusing more happiness into your life through a variety of easy tactics. Today, like every Wednesday, is Tip Day. Browsing tips from weeks past is a great way to find concepts to mull over and thoughts to help you refocus on your own happiness. For example, I should probably reread the entry for November 18th: "15 Tips to Avoid Nagging".

A satellite website of The Happiness Project is the do-it-yourself Happiness Project Toolbox, on which you design and post "Personal Commandments" and "Resolutions," and you can maintain an "Inspiration Board."

Though I'm not convinced that I'll be able to keep this up for too long, I started by posting the following Personal Commandments, which I intend as loose guidelines and wise goals to work toward:

• Be a better wife.
• Worry less.
• Make thoughtfulness a priority.
• Exercise creativity.
• Make healthier choices.

I also posted two Resolutions, on which I track my progress for a very specific goal each day. The titles of my Resolutions are to "Cook More Meals at Home" and "Drink Less Alcohol" and the bodies of these Resolutions contain additional information about exactly what I'm striving for in quantitative terms.

I think at the very least, reading each Wednesday's tip and keeping a few simple Resolutions toward the front of my mind will be helpful. I figure that at least I'm blogging - that seems like a good start toward exercising creativity, right? I encourage you to check it out and give a little thought to what might augment your own happiness in the cold chaos of this holiday season.

teeth

nemesis

I couldn’t help myself; I had to buy tickets to see David Gray at the Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall…eight hours before the show. I was trying to be practical and save the cash for our move this month, but an awesome deal presented itself and I couldn’t say no. I knew Jesse would be psyched and it turned out to be a really fantastic show.

The gorgeous venue was constructed in 1927 and still retains opulent glamour from that era. We arrived shortly after 8:00pm (after a brief trip to the eclectic Virginia Café, where we discussed what we’re going to do with our lives). We were ushered into the dark auditorium and shown our seats, which despite being many rows from the stage were just perfect. It’s the kind of place where just about every seat is a good seat.

As soon as we were seated, my attention snapped to the stage where Lisa Hannigan, the opening act, was singing. We were familiar with the vocalist due to her prior working relationship with singer Damien Rice (whose “Delicate” was our instrumental processional song). I felt fairly ambivalent upon learning that she’d be opening for David Gray, but my sentiment quickly turned to sheer captivation as we listened.

That lady can sing. Not only does she have a powerful, soaring, goose bump-producing voice, but she’s lovely and vaguely awkward and charming and funny. I can’t wait to get a hold of her CD, learn the lyrics and pretend I’m her while singing my lungs out in my living room (when Jesse’s at work or otherwise indisposed).

Early on in the show, Jesse commented on how excited he felt at that very moment, and I couldn’t agree more. He said he’s normally excited in anticipation of catching a concert, but this exhilaration was bleeding into the performance itself. I was so pleased that I made the impulsive, fun decision to get those tickets!

After intermission, David Gray took the stage with his band. All of them were dressed in nearly identical light brown suits, looking like dapper musicians from the 50’s. They looked to be having a good time, goofing around and taking in the enormous crowd. Gray began to sing and from then on I couldn’t really stop smiling. His voice too was notably marvelous – meeting all of the expectations we had after listening to the melodically luxurious album “Life in Slow Motion.” That title track was played, along with just one more from that disc. We heard his popular older songs “Babylon” and “Sail Away With Me” and many from the most recent CD.

The Schnitzer venue allows for impressive light displays on stage, which I managed to get a couple fuzzy pictures of. All in all, it was such a fabulous concert. The venue was very well-suited for these two artists and both of them exceeded what we’d hoped for in terms of their performances. I’m considering making David Gray a generous monetary offer to come sing us lullabies about 3 nights a week.

books books books

It's Halloween! I'm decked out in my Builders & the Butchers crow shirt and Audubon crow earrings, feeling good. I'm musing over my conversation this morning with my stepdaughter who turned 8 today. She told me an elaborate story about the time her dad accidentally decapitated her at the beach. She was really mad at him. As my dad (an extremely proud new grandpa) says, she is a delight.

So... I've been entering a lot of contests lately. And by a lot, I mean a lot. I won an essay contest through work a few months back and it got my sweepstakes competitiveness raging. On one hand, I sort of feel like spending hours entering contests is a waste. On the other hand, you WIN STUFF!

Last week Jesse called me at work to let me know that a big package had arrived from Simon & Schuster publishing company. I was too curious to wait, so I had him open it. Inside was a letter saying that I had won their summer reading contest! I won 7 books worth almost $150 including:

• Best Friends Forever by Jennifer Weiner
• Chasing Harry Winston by Lauren Weisenberger
• Full of Life by Nancy O'Dell
• Mommywood by Tori Spelling
• My Sister's Keeper by Jodi Picoult
• The Love of Her Life by Harriet Evans
• The Lovers by John Connolly

Okay, not exactly the kind of books I normally like to read, but free books is better than no books!

In other book news, I've started work on my "Pay It Forward" books. It has been too long since I built a book, but I've found that the skills are relearned quickly. It helps that all my supplies were recently categorized and stored in an easily accessible fashion. Here's a sneak peek at the first of the 6 books I'll be constructing.

color theory

I'm beginning to conceptualize the re-design of my blog. I'm really wishing now that I had gone to school for graphic design. I'm starting by determining a new color palette - with the help of the Adobe website Kuler, which I read about on a design blog.

Here's a rough first draft of a color scheme. What are your thoughts? What sort of vibe do these colors evoke? Yay or nay? Suggested changes?

September 28/29 – Liberia to Portland

Oh, what a breakfast. The standard gallo pinto and fresh fruit, along with pastries, bacon, cereal and amazing do-it-yourself Belgian waffles. In retrospect, I should have taken that delightful start to my day as a sign of good things to come. Instead, I had a lot of anxiety about whether or not we’d get out of the country and get our mangled travel plans back in order.

Before we even reached the American Airlines desk, some of American counterparts confirmed that the flight to Miami was going to depart as planned. This time we made our way into the open air “gate” area and watched our plane touchdown like a big white mirage. We made it to Miami and I immediately jumped on the phone to Westin to see if they’d forgive our missed reservation the previous night and move it to the current night. I reached someone at Westin reservations who told me that I’d have to call Priceline because I had bid on the room and won it there. I called Priceline and was told that they could do nothing to help me, and that I needed to call the hotel if there was any chance of getting the reservation changed. My hope was dwindling to depressing levels when I called the front desk of the Dallas Westin directly. I spoke to a wonderful girl name Emily who, when she heard our predicament, changed the reservation.

We didn’t have long to get lunch before our flight was scheduled to depart for Dallas, so we sat down at a sports bar in the terminal and ordered our food. I got a beer and quickly swallowed the $3 shot of tequila that came with it. I needed courage and assertiveness.

I called Southwest Airlines, remembering that you “attract bees with honey,” but knowing full well that I might have to get forceful, dramatic, pushy and/or desperate in order to get our already missed flight (from Phoenix to Portland) switched to the following day. A man who sounded competent and fairly kindhearted got on the phone and I jumped into my frantic, jumbled speech: “I’m in a bind and I’m on my honeymoon and I hope you can help me…”

Moments later the man said, “It looks like you’re already booked on tomorrow’s flight.”

WHAT? I started to cry a little in relief, sniffling and babbling thanks to this poor guy sitting in a call center in who-knows-where. Once we would arrive home the next day I would find an email from Southwest in my inbox. They had received the message I sent from the Liberia hotel and, taking great pity on me, changed the reservation – though that is something they hardly ever do because they have “rules” to abide by.

I returned to our table in the restaurant and told Jesse the news. We were jubilantly thankful. Our waitress poured our remaining beer into a “to-go cup” for the plane (who knew that was an option?!) and we made it to our gate just in time to board the flight to Dallas.

Upon our arrival, we took the Westin shuttle to our hotel. The room was beautiful, but we had little time to enjoy it. We got dinner at the Denny’s across the street and then headed straight for bed. We rose very early the next day and hopped on our plane to Phoenix, where we met Johnny. In a wonderful display of kindness, he brought all the rest of our luggage to the airport for us. We checked as many bags as we could (we were now traveling with 6 of them) and started the 4 hour wait for our flight to Portland.

In my carry on book bag was the Dia de los Muertos style skull sculpture (skullpture) that our dear friend Stephanie had given us as a wedding gift. The massive clay skull is painted and bedecked with beads, jewels and knickknacks. I was fairly apprehensive to send the gorgeous beast through the x-ray machine at the security checkpoint. I carefully set my bag on the conveyer belt and walked through the metal detector, keeping my eye on the machine screener. I watched as the skull slowly rolled onto the screen, a tangled unidentifiable mess to my untrained eye.

“WHAT is THAT?!” yelled the lady.
“A skull,” I replied.
“Alla the sudden I’ve got somebody LOOKING at me,” said the lady.
“It was a wedding gift,” I said. Like I really needed to say that.
“Then you’ve got some PRETTY WEIRD friends,” said the lady.
I wasn’t about to dispute that.

They didn’t even want to unwrap my skull and look at it; I was shocked. Their loss. We had made it through our last significant challenge. We boarded the plane to Portland, then took the MAX from there. We got home by about 6:30pm after more than 2 weeks away. Jesse forgot to carry me over the threshold. We were home and we were married!

THE END.

September 27 - Papagayo to Liberia

I woke up at 1:45am, thinking I had overslept. A little over 4 hours later, the alarm sounded and we got breakfast before lugging our heavy bags up the hill to reception. Reliable Armando picked us up and we left lovely Papagayo for Liberia, where our departure airport was located.

We paid the requisite departure tax (so cruel, making you pay to leave the country you don’t entirely want to leave in the first place) and walked over to the American Airlines desk. The attendant looked up our names in his computer and looked up at us slowly, saying “I have some bad news for you.” The bad news was that our flight was delayed and unconfirmed, so we went upstairs to have coffee and to play Farkle. Before long, we, along with a big group of other Americans, learned that our flight had been outright cancelled and we’d have to leave the next day at the earliest. Now, when I have made a plan, I think things to go according to that plan. I felt a bit of panic.

My unhappiness was tempered by the free hotel, lunch, dinner and breakfast vouchers the airline provided for the nearby Hilton Garden Inn. A group of us packed into the hotel shuttle, driven by a mad kamikaze man who seemingly almost flipped the van over on the way into the parking lot. We checked into our room, which was very, very clean and comfortable, and walked down to the internet room to get in touch with the U.S. for the first time in a week. I emailed my mother, the Westin hotel (in Dallas) that we were supposed to be staying at that night, Southwest Airlines (whose flight we were supposed to be catching to Portland the next day), and Annie and Johnny (who we were supposed to be meeting up with the next day to retrieve the rest of our luggage).

We spent the rest of the day eating delicious food, swimming and sunbathing at the beautiful tiled pool, drinking cocktails, and watching television. We also got some laundry done in an honest-to-goodness washer (read: not a sink) and were told by our new friend Lou that we are a “very international looking couple.” I sure liked the sound of that.

September 26 - Papagayo

We slathered on gobs of sunscreen and got a bit to eat before walking down to the black sand beach to catch our ferry over to the hotel’s illustrious white sand beach. As we waited we watched big pelicans flying directly over head and bobbing in the ocean. It was a very sunny 15 minute ride across the gulf to the beach, a stretch of hot white sand broken into two segments by the high tide.

The scenery was just breathtaking – a long cove with a large area shaded by trees and rows of blue chaise lounges set out. We spent a lot of time floating in the sea in order to keep cool and we eventually made our way toward one edge of the beach. We stood among small schools of fish, one variety of which had bright yellow striped with black like a bumblebee. Jesse explored into a group of rocks jutting from the water, but I kept a safe distance. At one point I heard a big splash behind me, then another. I turned to see that two big crabs had leapt out of the water and onto some rocks. I climbed back onto land and sat for a while on a water-weathered log in a quiet spot under spotty shade. I watched several kinds of birds hop around on the branches surrounding me and I saw at least 5 or 6 types of butterflies – including one that had a glimmering panel of aquamarine in each wing, just like a stained glass window!

When we returned to the main beach and Jesse was immediately recruited for a soccer game. I sat in the ocean and watched him score his team’s very first goal. I had noticed a cute little girl and boy in the ocean near me. When the girl got close enough to me, I asked her in Spanish how she was doing. She was shy at first, but in no time she was sitting on my lap in the water, excitedly talking to me and asking me questions. Turns out she was 3 years old, from Costa Rica and her name was Fili (my guess at spelling a name pronounced like “fee-lee”). I understood about 60-65% of her Spanish and it was great practice trying to communicate with her! She asked a lot about my “hija” (daughter) and my father. I used our underwater camera to get a great photo of the two of us.

As difficult as it was to leave the cool refreshment of the water, I needed a beverage. I walked up to the open air eating area, where only two other people were standing around. Right as I arrived, a coati walked out of the forest and started nosing around, looking for something to eat! I didn’t have a camera with me, so I went back town and urged Jesse to check it out and grab a photo. We then had a quick carb-filled lunch and headed back to the water. Jesse decided he wanted to try out snorkeling, so he paddled off while I relaxed. I ended taking an awesome nap on my chair under the trees and woke up close to the time the ferry was supposed to be returning to get us. I realized that Jesse was nowhere to be found.

The last I knew, he had been heading toward the opposite end of the beach where a bigger rocky area sat. I set out down the scalding, endless beach, the 10,000 degree sun beating into my shoulders. I reached the very end and saw a figure floating facedown in the sea, many yards out from shore. “Jesse!” I yelled. “JEEEEEESSSSSSEEEEEE!” The figure ignored me. Jesse was having the time of his life. I didn’t exist to him anymore. There were only sea urchins and puffer fish. I threw down my flip flops and marched into the sea, yelling his name the whole time. After a while, he suddenly popped his head out of the water and stared at me with a confused look on his face. I indicated (in the nicest way, I’m sure) that it was time to return to camp. I turned and marched back out of the water and up the beach. Jesse followed, struggling to pull off his giant flippers and run after me.

Back on the boat, Jesse and 5 or 6 other guys decided to climb over the top railing and jump into the ocean. Twice. Unfortunately, I had used up the last of our disposable camera photos on land and couldn’t document this act of sheer bravery and fun. Someone, somewhere, has a picture of Jesse’s manly moment of glory.

When we made it back to shore, I had to stand on the beach with a man whose pottery we had purchased while Jesse went back to the room to get some cash. The man’s name was Salman and he was from Nicaragua. He ended up telling me his very interesting life story, including the part about how his old girlfriend went to Alaska and disappeared. He is now married to a woman from his church and he wants to come to New York to be a missionary with two of his siblings. He was a very sympathetic, good soul that made a big impression on me.

We finally made it down to the pool to sit on underwater bar stools and order draft Imperials. We did some last minute shopping, grabbed dinner and returned to our room to pack. Booo. Back to the U.S. the next day.

September 25 - Papagayo and Artola

We just had time to grab breakfast from the buffet before our familiar driver Armando picked us up with new tour guide Eric in tow. We started the hour long drive to Artola where we’d be partaking in some wild zipline action. We opted for a photo CD of the day, which meant a guy would be following us with a camera and instructing us on how to pose. I’m thankful for that because it would have been way too difficult to manage the logistics of ziplining and photographing! The guides strapped and snapped a harness onto my hips without speaking and plopped a helmet on my head. We were joined by a couple, Chad and Katie, from Pittsburgh who had also gotten married on September 19th and were on their honeymoon.

Ziplining was absolutely amazing. We had several guides who showed us how to operate the necessary machinery and how to brake as we approached platforms. They made the whole experience a lot of fun by goofing around like crazy – shaking suspension bridges and pretending to let us walk off the raised platforms without being properly attached to the line! Katie was afraid of heights and was constantly shrieking in fear and calling for her husband. I, strangely, didn’t feel an ounce of fear despite being so high up. I was fully confident in the company’s safety measures and the knowledge of our guides.

We had the opportunity to try out a few different poses on the different lines, including the “Superman” and hanging completely upside down. On the longest line, which stretched far over the top of the canopy, a stunning butterfly followed right next to me as I sped from the platform into mid-air. I kept thinking that he would fly off, but he continued on parallel to my flight, right by my face.

It was amazingly hot and sweaty underneath the helmet which was squeezing my brains out. (At one point I removed the helmet to get some relief and then put it back on – backwards. A guide fixed the problem with a half-grin on his face. He was making fun of me in Spanish in his mind, I just know it.) We flew down to the ground from the last platform and I happily washed my hands and combed my hair with my fingers.

We were given the option to explore a small “zoo” for an entrance fee of $5 each. When I was told we could hold monkeys, I made my mind up fast. We entered an enclosure filled with white-faced (or capuchin) monkeys and a couple spider monkeys after removing all items from our pockets and jewelry from our bodies. We were given handfuls of sunflower seeds to offer to the monkeys and as soon as I stuck my hand out, a little capuchin monkey hopped onto my arm. I just about died of happiness.

Oh my goodness, to see this little guy peering into my eyes, his tiny fingers grasping my hand. He was very selective about the sunflower seeds he was eating, pushing many off my palm in broad sweeps of his monkey hand. He would pause midway through his munching and nestle his head into my chest. I soon realized he was licking my skin! The handler explained that he was looking for sweat. I eventually stood and my little friend climbed atop my head and began to suck the sweat from my hair! Yayyyyy.

Next we visited the Serpent Garden. Glass tanks of various sizes housed snakes of every variety. We were asked if we wanted to hold one. Oh sure! We are thinking about getting a snake anyway, so that’s perfect! Our zoo guide proceeded to pull a python out of its enclosure. The snake was at least 10 feet long and 2 feet in circumference. The man hoisted the massive beast up and over Jesse’s shoulders. Then it was my turn. After declining the pleasure several times, they convinced me to give it a shot. The center of the snake’s body was behind my head and I was shown how to hold him on his…..neck. His head wavered dangerously close to mine. He was looking at me. I was trying to breathe slowly and keep very calm because I figured he could sense my fear. He didn’t even try to squeeze me to death once!

Our last stop was the Butterfly Garden where we saw hundreds of Owl Butterflies with their amazing, creepy markings. We were shown a sort of “butterfly growing room” where there were caterpillars and butterflies in all stages of development. We spent a while in the gift shop before getting back in our van to return to the resort. As we drove back, we chatted a lot with Eric. He had a great desire to see the United States (and many other countries), so we exchanged information and told him he was more than welcome to stay with us if he ever made it up to Portland. We wanted to show him the same kind of hospitality that is so prevalent and highly valued across Costa Rica.

The rest of the day was very relaxed. I napped, we ate lunch and took a walk along the beach – spotting a big group of vultures dining on a dead manta ray! Inspired, I later watched Fear Factor while Jesse went for a swim. We had dinner at the Mexican a la carte restaurant and then did some souvenir shopping. Our last adventure was hiking up the hill to the lobby – a trip that turned into a bug hunt. We saw a beetle as big as my hand, a tiny gold Scarab beetle, geckos and even a scorpion – which I consider to be the most terrifying of all!

September 24 - Tortuguero to Papagayo

Another 5:00am morning for us, packing up our gear and scooting over to the dining hall for a breakfast promised to be merely “continental.” Continental, in Costa Rica anyway, apparently means coffee, orange juice, fresh pineapple, banana and papaya, breakfast ham, perfectly cooked fried eggs and tasty wheat bread, still hot from the oven. I told Gerardo that in the U.S., you could expect a small muffin in a plastic bag as your continental breakfast.

As we stood waiting for our shuttle boat to arrive, a toucan flew overhead! We boarded the boat and made the short ride over to the Tortuguero airstrip. I felt like royalty riding swiftly over the river, with just a driver, Gerardo and Jesse. Little did we know that our small 12 or 15-seater airplane would arrive – and Jesse and I would be the only passengers! The copilot gave a “ladies and gentleman” speech much more relaxed than the standard TSA lecture delivered back at home. We took off from the small strip of concrete boarded by rainforest on one side and the beach just through a line of trees on the other. It was a short ride to San Jose, where we walked off the plane and across the tarmac to a very, very small gate area to wait for our next flight. We had a strange array of snacks while we waited, including a blueberry muffin and a pear yogurt beverage named “Likigurt.”

Our next plane, which was the same size as the first, was full. We flew to the tiny Tamarindo airport to drop off some of the passengers, and then continued on to Liberia. I spotted a really weird bug that looked like it had been covered in white spray paint, but I was feeling a little too rushed to get a picture. We were greeted by a new driver, Armando, with whom we spoke Spanish the entire ride to the resort. Well, Jesse spoke and I generally just listened. Jesse accidentally told Armando that he’d been to all 50 states, which Armando find very impressive.

We arrived at the Allegro Papagayo Hotel and checked in, receiving our prized golden bracelets that let everyone know we were on our honeymoon. The resort was all-inclusive in terms of food and alcohol, but we were promised some extra perks for the occasion. We tossed our bags in our room and set out to explore. We got excited to see a big iguana sunning itself on a bush, and then realized that the creatures dotted the whole place! We got a bite to eat at the snack bar and walked down to the black sand beach. We walked along the shore for a while, examining the thousands of pretty seashells and the occasional fish body.

Returning to our room, we decided to take a nap in air-conditioned comfort. We woke to realize that we’d completely missed lunch, so we went back to sleep. Those early mornings had caught up to us. We woke again in time for dinner and set out for “La Trattoria” – the hotel’s a la carte Italian restaurant. Reservations were required and a dress code was loudly announced – a dress code which we couldn’t abide by due to our limited clothing and shoe selection. Fortunately, another diner had his shirt unbuttoned practically down to his navel.

Thinking our day was nearing its close, we walked back up to our room, spotting a mama raccoon and several babies along the way. We washed some clothes with bar soap in the sink (a necessity with a 25 pound limit on luggage) and decided to take a quick trip to the hot tub and maybe play a short game of darts at the bar before retiring. Unfortunately, we found the hot tub closed by the time we got down to the pool area. And then there was only one dart in the dart board. The foosball table opened up, so we positioned ourselves there.

Less than three minutes later, I was approached by a member of the “Occidental Fun Club.” The young man directed me to repeat his words to Jesse.

Jesse. If you do not participate in tonight’s production. I will not sleep with you.

And so Jesse decided to participate in the night’s production. Then I got roped into participating as well – bikini top and all. What was the production? GREASE. We were directed to a dressing room along with three men, and told to choose button-up suit jackets. We were then herded backstage and told to choose instruments – Jesse got the bongo drums and I opted for a big cymbal. Our “director” told us to watch the stage for the big red car and once the song “Greased Lightning” began, we were to put on our jackets, grab our instruments and position ourselves just behind the curtain.

I wanted to quit. I wanted to go hide in our room till the next day, bailing out on the rest of the cast. Jesse didn’t act like that was an option so I stuck around. In the meantime, we met Will, a Costa Rican native who had spent many years in the U.S. and who had just returned to Costa Rica 11 months prior (read: preemptively running from the law). He convinced us to do shots of tequila to steel our nerves before our Costa Rican stage debuts. A Spanish-speaking man, Patricio, who looked like he was from Michigan, joined us. Then it was time; the car appeared and the familiar notes of “Greased Lightning” rang out. We grabbed our jackets (I was happy to cover my skin), our instruments, and the curtains opened and music began!

We were only to pretend we were playing our instruments. I nervously tapped my cymbal while Jesse bongoed away next to me. Patricio – previously quiet and shy – ran twirling across the stage, sticking his microphone in each of our faces to do singing “solos.” It was madness. The song flowed into another…this was taking fooooreeeever.

Once our part finally ended, we headed back over the bar with Will. Turns out he had worked at the same software sales company as Jesse had – only at a Costa Rica branch rather than in Beaverton, Oregon. The raccoon family came down and raided garbage cans in the bar area. I got close to a little baby who was too immersed in what he was doing to notice me.

The bar closed and we moved to the empty discothèque…which it seems they opened up just for us. The night ended significantly later than I had anticipated.

September 23 - Tortuguero

I mis-set the alarm, but the sound of howler monkeys screaming nearby had woken us early anyway. We had breakfast and the group set out for a nature walk through the forest. We were provided rubber boots to wear, but neither Jesse nor I had packed any socks. (Instead, we each brought a pair of flip flops and a heavier duty pair of Teva-type hiking sandals.) I wrapped a dirty tank top around each foot before donning the boots, and Jesse went skin to rubber. He did wrap a bandana around each of his calves to prevent them from being rubbed raw.

We explored an area a short boat ride away, walking across balance beam logs and trekking through shallow muddy pits. We saw several poison dart frogs (the pretty red “blue jeans” variety), giant grasshoppers and spiders, a cousin of the Resplendent Quetzal (the mystical bird I most wanted to see – this was the closest I’d come – besides my quetzal magnet and keychain) called a trogan, and huge bullet ants. We learned how to survive in the rainforest by making palm roofs and eating hearts of palm.

Hot and sweaty as usual, we returned to the lodge for another swim in the tortuga pool before lunch. Ever on the go, we then got back on a boat to visit the small village of Tortuguero. This felt like the first time we were really being exposed to local culture, which we appreciated. The back side of the village bordered the Caribbean beach, where Gerardo gave a long explanation of how turtles come to shore to lay their eggs. When he had finally finished and we were turned loose for an hour, Jesse immediately stripped down to board shorts and jumped in the ocean!

We spent the rest of our free time exploring the village, walking down its dirt path “main drag.” We watched various small dogs roaming all over the town and stopped in the “super market” for Jesse’s much-desired rum and coke in a can. Many clouds had gathered and it rained for just a little while. We had a hard time believing this was the height of the rainy season.

Back in our cabin, we noticed men working on an electrical box and soon realized the electricity had been turned off. It was cool enough, so I took a short nap. I awoke to Jesse handing me one of those magical tropical fruit cocktails. He said, God told me to get this for you. Thank you God, I said, and the electricity promptly turned back on.

We went for yet another swim – during which Jesse broke all my pool caution rules by:

1. Tossing me in the air and letting me fall completely underwater.
2. Carrying me on his shoulders “chicken” style.
3. Dance lifting me “Patrick Swayze” style.
4. Laying on the bottom of the pool while I tried to walk on his back.

It was dark by the time we returned to our room and we decided to rest since there was still some time before dinner was to be served. We were resting on the double bed, staring at the ceiling, when –all of the sudden- the power went out. We were in utterly dark darkness. Rain had started to fall outside and howler monkeys sounded. It was amazing.

The rain continued to fall even harder and the lights popped back on at a couple minutes to seven. We loaded on raingear and walked over to the dining hall for dinner. More special treatment awaited us. One of the servers with whom we’d become familiar asked if we wanted a table on the porch in order to watch the rain. He led us to a nice candle lit table at the very corner of the covered porch.

We sloshed over to the bar for my nightly journal writing. Jesse had been told a live Calypso band was playing, so as it turned out, I was immediately interrupted from writing by a band member who handed both Jesse and I each a maraca. Holy smokes, I have no rhythm. In fact, I messed up whatever rhythm Jesse may have had alone. My biggest mistake came when the band members were asking whether it was anyone’s birthday…anyone’s anniversary. For some reason I opened my mouth and proudly declared that it was our Luna De Miel! We were instructed to stand and dance, just the two of us. The band began to play “Besame Mucho.”

Oh, I was so embarrassed. The song went on and on. The Spaniards cheered and gave us enthusiastic instructions in Spanish that I didn’t understand. I was happy when the song ended, but what a charming memory!

September 22 - San Jose to Tortuguero

5:00am. We got ready quickly and went outside to wait for our transportation to Tortuguero. We didn’t know just what to expect, so I think we were a little surprised when a massive tour bus pulled up. We boarded and our tour guide, Alexis, did a poll of everyone on board – Does anyone here speak English? Jesse and I were the only two to raise our hands. We peered around at the other tourists and quickly realized every other person on the bus was from Spain. Will do you alright with Spanish, Alexis asked. Jesse quickly nodded. The Spanish onslaught began. I sat quietly in my seat and looked out the window.

We stopped for breakfast at a simple roadside restaurant, seemingly designed for large groups of travelers on giant tour busses. We had our first taste of gallo pinto (pronounced “guy-yo peen-toe”) – the traditional Costa Rican breakfast of white rice, black beans and seasonings. We also had fried eggs, fresh fruit, and hotdogs (yes, hotdogs). Hot, strong Costa Rican coffee rounded out the satisfying meal.

After quite a bit more driving, over mountains, through rainforest and past banana plantations, we reached the chaotic departure dock where a couple hundred tourists were weaving about, trying to collect their baggage. We bought a couple coconuts with their tops sheared off and straws stuck into the sweet, almost spicy water within. We boarded a small, flat-bottomed boat with a new guide, Fernando, and a bunch of new Spaniards. We set out over the Tortuguero Canals, headed for our rainforest lodge, immediately spotting several new varieties of birds on the shore and flying above the water.

We stopped for about 15 minutes at a river “rest stop” with a bar and small gift shop. We enjoyed our first Imperial beers – well loved in Costa Rica – and explored the area. We hopped back in the boat and sped to the docks of the hidden Evergreen Lodge. We deboated (a person can deplane, so why not deboat?), and were immediately handed a glorious cocktail containing, at the very least, papaya, banana, mango and carrot juices. We were assigned to cabin #21, up on stilts with a porch marked with two rocking chairs on either side of the door. Inside, a sizeable room with large “windows” covered only by screen and heavy curtains. One double bed, one twin bed. A fully equipped bathroom and small back porch.

We rushed off to a buffet lunch at the lodge dining hall, then back to our rooms to grab our cameras for the afternoon canal tour. We stopped at the entrance to Tortuguero National Forest so our guide, Gerardo, could pay the requisite fee to a park guard. While he was busy, some men on land called us up from the boat. I didn’t realize what was happening, but Jesse and I got off the boat along with everyone else and stood crowded around a tall bush next to a small, worn-out basketball court. What is it, I asked. A snake, said a nice Spain lady! I maneuvered around the rest of the group, using my height as an advantage to stick my head into the bush and get a great, macro shot of the amazing, bright yellow snake that was curled up on an inner limb of the plant.

Gerardo finally turned around and got a quizzical look on his face when he realized we had all deboated (again). We got back on the boat and entered the smaller canals of the National Forest. We saw an amazing array of wildlife, all pointed out by our highly observant and specially trained guides! There were various types of herons, basilisks (“Jesus lizards”), a caiman, an iguana, howler monkeys, spider monkeys, bats and a gar fish (holy teeth), not to mention a ton of additional types of birds – which we’d later try to identify in my handy waterproof Audubon Costa Rica bird pamphlet. At one point, our guide explained that the striking yellow snake we had seen back on land - the pretty one with the noticeable protruding "eyelashes" - was a Golden Eyelash snake...one of the most deadly snakes in the country. A warning before I climbed into its hiding spot would have been appreciated.

We had time for a swim in the lovely new tortuga-shaped swimming pool before dinner. Yes, that would be the dinner where I poured salt all over my freshly served spaghetti and marinara, thinking it was the (soon to be realized as very elusive) shaky parmesan cheese. I felt a lot better once Jesse and I were bestowed with a giant fruitball-studded pineapple filled with coconut dream cocktail. Oh man. The perks of being on honeymoon.

That night I initiated a tradition of settling down with Jesse at the little bar on the lodge grounds (housed under a simple pavilion) and writing down the day’s events. It was a relaxing end to a long day and we even managed to see two more types of animals before retiring – a gigantic blue land crab and a big ugly frog.

September 21 - San Jose

After a whirlwind wedding week (not to mention more than 14 months of planning before that), Jesse and I were finally aboard our flight from Dallas, Texas to San Jose, the capital of Costa Rica. We were delighted to learn we’d be getting lunch on the plane – which never seems to happen since the economy took a nosedive. As the flight attendants moved closer with their food carts, full of aromatic trays, we overheard the two options for lunch: chicken with mashed potatoes or lasagna. Oooh, lasagna sounds great, I said.

I took a moment to share with Jesse a story about the time I was returning from a trip to Italy and Greece and breakfast was being served on the plane. The choices were (a) delicious, sweet fruit crepe bonanza or (b) stale, tasteless ham scramble. I couldn’t wait to sink my teeth into option (a), but of course the last little package of deliciousness was given to the person ahead of me. I was stuck with artificially colored eggs.

I said, just watch, the same thing will happen again. Lo and behold, the last lasagna was distributed to a person in the row in front of us. The chicken wasn’t half bad though.

We landed in San Jose and spent a little while getting through Customs. I was crossing my fingers for the smiling, green-shirted lady at stand #2. Jesse, ahead of me in line, got to the front and went to the first open stand. Then (yes!) the light at stand #2 illuminated. Green Shirt didn’t smile at me once the whole time.

Our driver, Manuel, picked us and another honeymooning couple up at the airport and we headed toward our hotel. We couldn’t see too much of San Jose as we drove through since it was late, but we caught a glimpse of Asian construction workers in pink hardhats. Manuel explained that these men were Chinese workers, sent it by the Chinese government, to pay for a huge new Chinese-funded stadium in the city.

We reached the Grano de Oro, a sparkling, gorgeously renovated mansion, and were led to our room. We were both surprised at the hardwood floors, lush bedding and the multi-product soap dispenser in the shower. Jesse watched the news in Spanish and learned that the locals (Ticos) were outraged over the inappropriate, drunken behavior of the Chinese construction workers. We also made note of the sign language interpreter in the corner of the television screen during the broadcast.

We hurried over to the attached, partially open-air Grano de Oro restaurant to get dinner before it closed. I had read amazing reviews about the place, and since our meals were going to be all inclusive for the rest of the trip, we decided to splurge. It may have been the fanciest restaurant I’ve ever dined in. I ordered espresso pork shortribs, which turned out to be like a big cubed chunk of fatty, undercooked bacon. Not good.

My salad (very Oregon-esque with giant blackberries, gorgonzola and nuts) was tasty, and so were the strangely pureed potatoes I got on the side. Jesse liked his macadamia-nut crusted fish, so it was a win overall. The experience was topped off by our waiter, Walter, teaching us proper tipping customs and encouraging me to correctly pronounce the French name of our dessert – a weird mélange of different elements including avocado ice cream and hot watermelon.

We returned to our room and immediately headed for bed. The next morning would be the first of many early, early wake-up calls.

pura vida!

And we have returned...from the green, sticky, sunburnt land of Costa Rica. We touched down in Portland Tuesday - a day late - greeted by grey rain and chilliness. I haven't managed to accomplish much recuperation yet after the honeymoon, but one of my priorities - a Flickr site with our honeymoon photos - is up and running!

Take a look.

More Costa Rica photos will be posted once we sort through the ones on Jesse's camera, and the wedding photos will follow close behind.

In the meantime, I'll be posting a series of blog entries outlining our entire trip. Stay tuned!

over and out

I'm taking a break from the tremendously daunting task of packing for a two week vacation to bid you all farewell. I am getting married! And then going to Costa Rica!

This is all hard to believe. I'm just about ready to go. Have the dress, stepdaughter's dress, wedding rings, Central America backpackers' backpacks, massively heavy car parts to deliver to my dad...I even remembered my lovely ribbon-and-bow rehearsal bouquet!

I look forward to sharing stories and photographs upon my return. We touch back down in Portland on Monday, September 28th and I have a full day of relaxation and blogging on Tuesday.

I want to deeply thank the many individuals who have shown enormous support and generosity as I've prepared for these coming weeks. Many people have shown wonderful kindness and enthusiasm and I am left feeling like the most fortunate girl in the world.

Thank you all and see you soon!

thank you mufn!

I'll be honest. I have not given adequate thought to my April 29th Pay It Forward promise. Darn it. I know I'm lacking in the reliability department, but I'm slowly improving.

Yesterday, a mysterious package arrived in the mail. Its weight and shape didn't match my expectations for a package I knew was coming, so I eagerly tore away the outer brown paper to reveal a gorgeously packaged, heavy, rectangular item. Just as gorgeously wrapped as these pretty packages.

I found a little notecard inside the package that read

Sara, I am so glad that you left a comment

on my blog & am now receiving this
small handmade gift. I hope that you
will post a picture of what you
received & continue to pay it forward to
5 more people. Enjoy the book! Have
a wonderful day & know that you
are loved.

-Muffin

Oh my goodness. I can't believe it, I said. This was a gift from pretty, talented Pauline from Mufn Inc!

Inside was a lovely little handbound journal with handmade cover paper and endsheets, delightful detailing - including rub-ons and bone-like beads, and soft, brown suede serving as a spine cover. The book's pages are white with a great linear texture!

This thoughtful handmade gift made my day! It was invaluable to know that someone had set out to make a special present just for me...for no other reason than to pay it forward!

This delivery has made me recommit to getting handmade gifts in the mail to first 4 people who commented on my original Pay It Forward post - Jon, Tim, McKenzie and Trina. Unfortunately, I have no way of getting in touch with the 5th commenter - Laura, who I've never met.

So - I will also send a gift to the first person to comment on this post!

It was somewhat silly of me to expect to be able to get this gifts created while planning a wedding. I am going to have boundless energy and focus when Jesse and I return from our wedding and honeymoon in late September - so I vow (get it?) to get to work then!

watch this

Join Us.

youth

#373 from the recently suggested “1001 rules for my unborn son”: Carry two handkerchiefs. The one in your back pocket is for you. The one in your breast pocket is for her.

They say coincidence is lucky. I’ve touched on this before after reading the highly recommendable book Beyond Coincidence. I recognize that much of coincidence comes from being open to the idea of it, to being observant and aware of the myriad connections present around you.

Sunday night I pulled out the travel journal I used to record my 1998 trip to Italy and Greece and my 2004 trip to England and France. About a third of the journal, in which I plan to write about our upcoming honeymoon to Costa Rica, is still blank.

I was reading through passages about the 2004 trip that I took with my friend Beckie. I literally laughed out loud while reading about how we bumbled through our London to Paris Eurorail adventure (my favorite line: “Then Beckie started crying.”), how we couldn’t understand any English in England, and how we were proud to be misidentified as German tourists.

I read about the day I was searching for an internet café in London’s Picadilly Circus and passed by a woman whose nose was bleeding profusely, the blood pooling on the sidewalk and splattering onto her sneakers. A man walking past pulled a handkerchief from his pocket (his breast pocket, I’m sure) and handed it to the woman. He stayed for a moment to make sure she was okay, and then proceeded on his way. I made a note that I was very impressed by the kindness of this gesture, because he sure wasn’t going to get his handkerchief back. It was a lovely, British thing to do.

So you see the connection. I always liken the awareness of coincidence to learning about idioms in elementary school. Once you learn what an idiom is, you’re suddenly surrounded by them; your ear is honed to them.

And, to my delight, this is a lovely segue to the other item I wanted to mention. My last post makes note of the fact that the word “accident” is but a tiny shard in my internet Persona image. Lo and behold, the next day the non-internet universe set out to prove that “accident” is a present, though often dormant, component of me.

Friday evening Jesse and I attended an Amos Lee concert at the zoo. We decided to depart toward the end of the encore, along with throngs of generally slow-moving concertgoers. Jesse broke into a jog, weaving through the crowd. I grabbed a free rolled-up zoo poster from a volunteer and we practiced our relay hand-off skills while continuing to run. Let me emphasize that I do not run. But I was running nonetheless.

We came to a set of stairs and we both ran up them, one at a time. Jesse shot up ahead and took the next set of 4 stairs in one big leap. Oooh, I’m going to try that, I thought.

Yeah, my feet didn’t even clear the third step. Instead, they got caught up in the stationary concrete and I went sailing smack down onto black asphalt. Jesse said he’ll never forget the sight of me crumpled on the ground, a look of disappointment on my face rather than pain. What a stupid move, the look probably said. A nice woman nearby asked if I was okay. “Yes,” I replied, in a fed-up, easily misunderstood tone that I now regret.

I hobbled the rest of the way out of the zoo and stopped to check myself over once we got to the MAX platform. I pulled up my pant leg and saw that I scraped up my knee pretty well. An INJURY! Glory be. “I can’t wait to blog this!” I said. I took photos with my cell phone to memorialize the rare and special occasion.

Jesse said I was acting “young and free.” That’s the last time that’ll happen.

personas

How the internet sees me. From Personas.





"Accident" and "domestic" are the tiniest slivers, "sports" one of the largest. What to make of that? :)

collective unconscious

I just clicked the "Begin at the Beginning" link at the bottom of 500 Pieces of Prudent Advice. The first tip she wrote - "Always send a thank you note."

My own first piece of advice from two entries back? "Write thank you notes. Every time."

I promise I hadn't begun at the beginning. This must just be a truth.

flown

This is a mash-up of sorts. I think if I start rifling through the contents of my mind, taking the initiative to address some of the smaller bits that can be accomplished and forgotten, my thinking will function a bit more smoothly. It’s worth a shot.

Despite the fact that I’m a bookbinder (ooh, I like the sound of that) and I’ve made a few custom guestbooks specifically for weddings, I’ve decided not to have a guestbook at our wedding. Instead, I borrowed an idea from Etsy (imagine that) and bought a little wooden box to serve as a “guestbox.” I painted the box in mossy olive green and cream, and affixed a Hambly birdcage rub-on (I love their products more than life itself).


With marriage, Jesse and I will be once-free birdlings that are now caged together.

I’m going to cut cream-colored index cards to size and hopefully each guest will fill out their name, contact information, and maybe a little message! That way the box will serve as a useful address compendium once we get home. My favorite detail is the tiny stamped letters on the index dividers – embossed in a shade of green just slightly darker than the cards themselves. I appreciate that monochromatic balance and want to incorporate it in future projects.


I also tried my hand at papercutting for the first time recently, making this tongue-in-cheek birthday card for Jesse’s 30th. I had been browsing the amazingly precise work at The Heart of Papercuts and wanted to see how difficult the craft was. I’ve long been a fan of traditional Mexican “picados” and I’d like to eventually make some to hang above my craft table. I thought the card turned out fine for a first try – next time I’ll use a heavier cardstock for cutting and I need to find a different adhesion technique! Oh, not to mention improving my making-a-likeness skills – does this even look like Jesse??


Lastly. I got some lovely new kitchen tools and dishes at my bridal shower last week, so I decided to rearrange the vintage hutch we purchased from a friend a while back. The hutch itself needs refurbishing (note the missing knob), particularly since it kind of fell over in the moving truck as we were bringing it home. A fresh coat of paint and some new fixtures should bring this beauty back to life.


I decided to arrange white and glass items in the display case, along with a couple bright splashes of color. I am pleased with the result; it reminds me of the photos I love so much in Real Simple and on those glorious design blogs!

broadside

Ah, the illustrious Plan B.

My plan was firm. Walk home from the MAX, 82 degree weather; sweltering. Strip down to tank top and the same pants I'd been wearing all day and get down to finishing thank you notes from my bridal shower. I got caught up for just a moment texting about a friend's daughter's stomach-churning chin injury (slingshot fun gone all wrong), opening a beer and getting myself organized.

My mind has been running in all directions, all day. I've heard this is to be well expected in the month leading up to your wedding, but geez. I cannot think straight. I should get up now and turn off the XM radio that's tunnelling into my ears, straight into my brain.

Here's the breakdown:

1. I read a blog called "500 Pieces of Prudent Advice for my Baby Daughter." I really enjoy the concept of this blog and I've found myself mentally collecting pieces of advice for Chloe, or for my own unborn.

Today's nugget: Write thank you notes. Every time. It feels good. Your hands might ache and you might fear you're becoming repetitive, but it is as lovely to receive kindness as it is to express your gratitude.

There's another one in the works about overcoming difficulty and striving for ambitious, seemingly impossible goals, but I haven't fleshed it out yet.

2. I wanted to post photos and ideas pertaining to the wedding...to demonstrate that I've made at least a little progress. I cleared off the kitchen table and prepared my guest "box" - an address box serving as a guest book - and my rehearsal dinner bouquet - created from the ribbons and bows from my bridal shower gifts. Then I realized my camera's in the trunk of the car, which Jesse drove to work tonight. All I've got are these photos of the finished ring bearer bowl:



3. I was inspired today. I don't know what it was, if it was one genesis or several. I've been thinking about letterpress broadsides since seeing a call for art for a local show. Granted, my letterpress is not remotely up and running yet, but I'm down to try freehanding some. Check out these gorgeous pieces from Anagram Press in Tacoma. I'm most interested in their Feminism Series broadsides, but the bird prints are awesome as well. I'm leaning toward the lush olive & chocolate Victory Garden print as a favorite.

I like the idea of handcreating a poster with an uplifting message. I just bought the incredible Handy Book of Artistic Printing and it's teeming with ideas that could be built upon with pen and paper. I even have my first topic chosen.

Secondly, I just requested a copy of the police report from the accident that caused my grandmother's death. She was hit by a car and killed on Christmas Eve last year and I still have unanswered questions and uncertain responses to the incident. I envision using copies of the report in an artist's book expressing grief. Or maybe the dichotomy of burying my grandparents ashes two days before getting married. An interesting balance...

It seems I may not have had so much to say afterall. I feel content with that, and happy that I've discovered a little pocket of bloggers at the enormous agency where I work. Maybe now I'll feel like I'm addressing an audience!

query

My blog needs a design overhaul. Especially after reading blogs of real-life artists and designers, I'm recognizing that this place needs some sprucing up. I guess I didn't learn the daunting Adobe InDesign program for nothing...I need to put it to use!

It's sort of like how it's good to have a clean, comfortable bedroom...the place you return to at the end of every day, the place you go to recharge. I think if my blog is pretty and well-composed, I'll be more apt to visit here, to write and create.

I am extremely open to suggestions. What sort of blog "look" appeals to you most? What color schemes? I just bought some notecards and envelopes in the the "Night" and "Papaya" colors from Paper Source:

I think these might just be a color phase I'm going through. Green's my favorite and navy's creeping up in personal popularity.

What about a logo? Into deer right now. Always owls and birds, but are they cliche? Something book or craft related?

Let's hear your recommendations!

purr

My girl feline is a solo rangeress. She likes to keep her distance, atop a fur-attracting white sofa mountain, squinting one pretty eyeball from across the room (the other often covered with a modest paw).

Last night, somehow, somewhy, she climbed into bed with me, in between the sheet and the comforter. I was sleeping, so I didn’t notice she was pressed up against my legs through that thin barrier. At some point I rolled myself around and over, in order to free my feet from the blankets. Half-waking, I sensed a soft vibration, a wriggling next to me. I fell back asleep, then awoke to more squirming. I was dreaming. It was a baby. A little human infant. It was a squirrel. Something furry and small. This was much better than jumping to my knees to kill the imaginary dream spider or to strangle the imaginary dream serpent (I’m a very active sleeper). I was so happy with my little cocooned creature; I had to see what she looked like. I unrolled and unrolled, and Aurora popped out of the fabric cyclone. She marched off the bed and didn’t look back.

piglet

For Chloe’s last weekend in Portland this summer, we decided to head to my friend Teresa’s house for a small, impromptu barbeque. Chloe and I had gone berry picking on Sauvie Island the day before with our wonderful friend, Maria, so I whipped up a mixed berry trifle and also pressed and fried some fresh corn tortillas to share.

Allow me to digress. Saturday, as we drove toward the island on which we would do our berry picking, we stopped at a red light on Highway 30 in north Portland. A big dump truck came motoring through the intersection just ahead of us, with its, um, clutching mechanism not quite tucked into the proper spot. As we gaped, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, the top of the truck caught on the overhanging light signal and power cord. SNAP! The power cord split and went flying through the air as I rushed to roll up my window. I envisioned the end of the cord jumping into the car and electrocuting us.

Nothing ultra dramatic happened as a result. I called 911 and confirmed for dispatch that no arcs of electricity were shooting up from the sidewalk. Emergency over.

Back to the barbeque. We packed up our supplies and drove to Newberg, the sleepy townlet where Teresa and her kids live. Upon arriving, we learned that Teresa’s daughter, Ali, had come down with some awful sickness and a fever of over 100 degrees. I had to hold Chloe back from running into Ali’s room to hug her.












We ate mass amounts of guacamole and tortilla chips and drank mojitos. Chloe and Tristan, Teresa’s son, sequestered themselves in Tristan’s room, playing with Hot Wheels. My Jesse provided complimentary dream interpretation services to another Jesse (I feel as though I shouldn’t capitalize the latter Jesse’s name!) while I snuggled with T’s darling new puppy, Winston. Badminton, flank steak tacos and 80’s music completed a lovely summer Sunday.


The next day I got the phone call. “Sara, the doctors think Ali has swine flu.”

Oh boy oh boy. For the next five days I closely monitored myself, feeling my forehead every few hours and pursing my lips in worry with each telltale cough. The CDC website instructs those who may have been exposed to swine flu to carry about with their usual business and to continue going to work. Now it’s Friday, the last day we would have likely come down with this evil sickness, and I’m feeling pretty good.

It’s been a harrowing week, but luckily we’ve all survived it.

victory is relative

My nut-studded crust earned gloriously complimentary comments. The extra butter Jesse suggested did wonders, I say. My filling was not as firm as I would have liked...perhaps a little time in an actual icebox (rather than a fridge) would help? When all was said and done, I was a winner, though not the only winner.

My prize? Two Tupperware cups with nicely sealing lids and straw holes. And the sweet glow of satisfaction.

I'm serious about making contest winning my new part-time job (this is number 2 for the month). I'll keep you posted.

límon

I was invited to participate in a Lemon Icebox Pie "Throwdown" ala Bobby Flay, in honor of our Civil Deputy Supervisor's birthday. I did a test run the weekend before the contest, and the following is the recipe that resulted:

Hopefully Award-Winning Lemon Icebox Pie

Crust:

1/3 box of honey graham crackers, finely crushed (7 or 8 crackers)
1/3 cup chopped walnuts
1/4 cup white sugar
8 tablespoons butter, melted

Grease deep-dish pie plate with butter. Mix together all crust ingredients and press into the bottom and onto the sides of the pie plate. Bake for 7 minutes at 375 degrees. Cool.

Filling:

12 oz. plain cream cheese, room temperature
14 oz. can sweetened condensed milk
1 Tbsp. lemon zest
1 tsp. vanilla
Juice of 4 large lemons (approximately 1 cup)
Juice of 1 small lime

Mix all ingredients in electric mixer on medium speed till smooth. Pour into cooled crust. Refrigerate overnight. Serve with Cool Whip.

wedding gown miracle

As I was telling my friend, McKenzie, I am a firm believer in fate. Whether you call it fate, or destiny, or God, or luck, I think we receive indicators when we're following the right path.

Though I had chosen my wedding gown (and gotten Chloe's approval), I was holding off on buying it. I checked the website almost daily, just to make sure the dress was still there. Today is the day I had planned on buying it, so I checked the website once more. I almost fell out of my chair when I saw the price had gone up nearly 40%, literally overnight. My mind started racing with alternatives. I think paying a million dollars for a one-time-use gown is absurd. I would have to find a different dress.

I hopped on Ebay on a whim. I had browsed that site in the past, but wanted to order my gown from the designing company so I could return it if need be. I found a listing. My dress, in my size, brand new. I scanned the details...it is returnable within 7 days of delivery. The cost? A 60% discount from the new, inflated full price.

I've never typed so fast to make that purchase. As Beckie says, "It's meant to be!"

ring bearer

With an influx of wedding-related enthusiasm, I’ve been browsing Etsy to get ideas to accentuate the DIY vibe of our event. The site is a goldmine of inventive creations that beg to be made by my fumbling fingers. I’ve derived a list of items I hope to make myself, and I decided to start with a substitute for the traditional satiny ring bearer pillow.

Instead, I wanted to get super ambitious and try knitting and felting a ring bearer bowl. I was daunted to try using circular knitting needles for the first time. My first go at it produced the beginnings of a bowl whose rim was going to be about 2.5 feet in diameter. After purchasing a smaller set of bamboo circular needles, I got back on the right track.



This smaller bowl knitted up very fast and I finished the basin part of the bowl and secured a ribbon through some of the looser stitches at the bottom (to hold the rings in place during the ceremony). I mentally prepared myself to toss my precious construction in the wildly thrashing water of my washing machine.



After about 25 minutes of harsh agitation, I pulled the bowl from the washing machine and squeezed out the excess water. The “felting” process had helped the rows of yarn to blend together into a thick fabric consistency. The individual stitches now blended together and were indistinguishable. This last photo is of the felted bowl before I shaped it and dried it over a balled up dishtowel.


I’m considering some kind of beaded embellishment to make this bowl more “pretty” and wedding appropriate. Photos to come.

invitations - part 2

After months and months of occasional, focused work on our wedding invitations, they are complete and in the mail! I experienced a burst of happy interest in finishing them up, not to mention the return date already printed on the RSVPs was July 31st. Probably best to get the invitations out before that date arrived, yes?

As I mentioned, I designed and printed the four main components (enclosures) on our Canon inkjet printer, using a font I located on 1,001 Free Fonts. I utilized copper, dark olive green and leaf green for all details. The "main" invitation card and the map card were the largest, while the hotel/activities card and the RSVP needed to be cut to size. The latter three were tucked into the invitation pocket, with only the "title" of each card exposed.

I carved the image of an agave plant for the central invitation card. I stamped the image with a copper stamp pad and then raised it with clear embossing powder. That card was glued in next to the enclosure pocket.

I then used a Martha Stewart punch on the invitation flap, and attached a small copper closure card by threading my Paper Source "leaf" ribbon through the punched holes. Voila. The whole project was topped off with address and return address labels printed in the same "One Forty Seven" font, and wonderfully matchy 61 cent wedding cake stamps!

It was extremely gratifying to drop the 37 invitations in the mail! I have a renewed interest in all kinds of wedding craft projects and I'm so appreciative of the generous help and excitement my friends and family are offering!

lava balls - day 2

I woke to the sound of birds chirping at the myriad feeders surrounding the cabin. A quick shower, then I went to work on making a rustic breakfast – hazelnut 10-grain pancakes and bacon, while Jesse retrieved coffee from the town center. Jesse got some nice photographs of one of my favorite birds, the ornately Mohawked Steller’s Jay. We cleaned up the cabin – I broke a teacup in the process – and we bid farewell to the quaint little cottage.

We drove the short distance down the freeway into Bend. We were finally visiting Bend, a place loved by so many and pleasantly reminiscent of Northern Arizona, or so I hear. We passed through the city and found the first entrance to the Newberry National Volcanic Monument. I was delighted to spot a raven walking around on the gold bed of pine needles. We spent some time in the interpretive center before setting out to explore the harsh, black hills of hardened lava. A sidewalk path ran up and through those hills, to hidden corners and scenic overlooks. Note: For those of you hoping to visit this monument in the future, lava rock is extremely sharp.

We had a fun time trying to take photos of ourselves by wedging my camera into the aforementioned lava rock. By the time I realized I should set the camera on a stable bench and got the timer set up properly after 5 failed attempts, we could hear other visitors approaching. It was probably around shot 2 of 10 that the small group arrived, so rather than posing for the automatic photos and trying to look halfway decent, we chatted with the newcomers as the camera snapped away. A male from the group kindly offered to take our photograph, but made the fairly glaring mistake of cutting off parts of our feet. Oh, and it was crooked. Thank you though, sir.

We finished up and drove a mile down the road to the mythical Lava Tube. This expansive cave stretches at least 1.1 miles into the Earth, a cylinder formed by hot flowing lava. We armed ourselves with a big flashlight and a lantern and descended into the blackness. We’d both been in caves before, but there was something extremely thrilling about heading straight back into the ground, passing other groups, the temperature growing cooler. After hiking for a mile, the ceiling of the tube began to drop. And then it dropped further. Soon, we were crawling on hands and knees. A group nearby warned us that the cave continued on, but the opening grew so small and confined that travel became uncomfortable. We took a few photos, again having a friendly stranger offer to help out – though we were in absolute pitch darkness this time.

After reaching the exit of the cave, we returned the borrowed lantern and hopped back in the car to hit up the Bite of Bend festival. Our appetites were raging, so we jumped at the chance to taste some spicy little corn fritters with a sweet jelly sauce as soon as we arrived at the festival. The wind was whipping through the main food concourse, but we didn’t let that deter us from feasting. I ended up having an elote (grilled corn on the cob with butter, cheese and red chili powder) and a wonderful lemon curd-blueberry crepe. Jesse had some sausage, chicken wings (I think?), Asian food, and then we got a few more corn fritters for the road. Those definitely need to be replicated in my kitchen. I’m having trouble believing that was all I ate at the fest. I’ll have to think about it.

We made it home safely, reinvigorated but at the same time content. Having a little getaway to look forward to does wonders for the soul, and having it turn out well and become a happy memory is even better. I can’t wait to return to Central Oregon!