{Dear Martha Anne} Just Throw Away the List

Dear Martha Anne,

As you well know, I have a love affair with lists.  Crossing off an item is as fulfilling to me as a cookie is for the cookie monster.  I get giddy over my planner.

Last Thursday, I had planned a beautiful day, where I'd be pushed, uplifted, and fulfilled doing things I enjoy.  I am taking an online photography class so that I will finally understand how to make the most out of my camera.  I am blogging.  I am reading multiple books, doing art, taking walks with the dog, baking.  Not everyday is this idyllic, but this one day was supposed to be.  I had a bunch of little tasks around the house that I'd been neglecting that I was pumped to finally knock out.

That morning started out as usual with exercise and then tidying the house.  It changed abruptly when, while making the bed, I found a flea on our white bedspread.

Discouraged doesn't quite describe my reaction.

This place here we call Indiana is far too welcoming to crawling things.  Fleas love this place.  And we have a dog.

So darn it my whole day changed as I stripped the bed, pulled up all the rugs and anything the dog may have touched around the house and threw it into the laundry room.  This picture does not quite represent the pile of things to be washed.

Laundry started, I proceeded to vacuum the whole house and all of our furniture, swept and mopped all the hard floors, made an appointment with the vet, and then sprayed the house with Raid.  During a long walk with the dog to escape the toxic spray, I bounced between frustrated and amused with life's practical jokes.

I remembered a story I heard a long time ago about a mother who, at the end of the day, cried in her husband's arms in despair.  She had been so busy with her two little kids all day that she did not get to a single thing on her list.  He held her and then in optimism said, "Well, that's an easy one.  Just throw away the list!"

While walking the dog, I decided that this was one of those days.  The list would be tossed.  The day was spent.  Backtracking would be useless.  And the great thing about it all was that my usual house cleaning on Friday had been done a day early.  My weekend had just gotten better.

So, Dear Heart, this week give yourself a break and toss your list should the need arise.

Also, guess what...19 days until my birthday!  Gosh I love birthdays.

Cheers!

Me

their eyes were watching god - zora neale hurston

"Some people could look at a mud-puddle and see an ocean with ships.  But Nanny belonged to that other kind that loved to deal in scraps.  [Janie's] Nanny had taken the biggest thing God ever made, the horizon--for no matter how far a person can go the horizon is still way beyond you--and pinched it in to such a little bit of a thing that she could tie it about her granddaughter's neck tight enough to choke her.  She hated the old woman who had twisted her so in the name of love."

Zora Neale knows humanity--knows it well.  I read this passage, and instead of hating the grandmother like Janie, I felt sad for her.  Because, unlike Janie, I know the grandmother's sacrifice: that as a slave, she was beaten and raped and driven from her only known home for carrying her abuser's child.  And that defined her, and made her scared, made her to cling to precious things, to choke out dreams because dreams are dangerous for a slave.  The grandmother protected Janie by choking her dreams, and Janie hates.

If you haven't yet, read this book.

I'm Back

Well hello again.  It's been awhile.  Thanks for hanging in there during my break.

Last night, as our third and final set of visitors stepped out our front door, a Purdue student turned to me with a smile and said, "It's rough, being an MBA widow.  Good luck."  Busy has definitely made itself at home in our lives.  Preston put in a 17 hour day on Friday alone.  I've learned that if I want to do or see anything around town during this first year of Preston's schooling, I'm going to have to make friends or do it on my own.  Preston will have to rely on my stories to discover the charm of this place we call home.

But despite Preston's 60 hour weeks and my new role as "widow"

this is the life.

The days are cool and sunny, the smell of autumn everywhere, and I may roam the cornfields at leisure to soak it all in.  With a beautiful dog who loves us to death, practical jokes that leave us mad but laughing, a t.v. antenna that picks up football, friendly neighbors with whom to share homemade bread, health, great future prospects, and moments together made more special in their rarity, we. are. blessed.

Enjoy our recent captured moments:

Have a good week, my friends.

~K

This Dog of Mine

Let me tell you about this dog of mine.

He is the sweetest most frustrating thing on the planet.

His muddy paws are all over my white bedspread.

He barks like crazy at the bunnies next door.

He rolls around in the dirt right after he's bathed.

He takes off after squirrels and will hear no command.

He sneaks into our bedroom when we're not looking and cuddles with our off-limits pillows.

He climbs up on the off-limits kitchen table to watch for us out the window.

He curls up on my off-limits green chair.

He refuses to learn "stay."

Sometimes I just want to yank his tail and cry, "Don't you understand?!  You can't do that!"

But then tips his head sideways and looks at me with those huge brown eyes, ears perked up, and all over his face I read, "I want to please you.  And I love you so much."

Then I remember the way he cuddles in the crook of our bent knees, the way he jumps and twirls in the air, the way he follows me in and out of every room in the house as I tidy, the way his leg kicks when we rub his belly just right, the way he runs with all the energy in the world to greet Preston when he's home from school, the way his legs slide out from under him on our wood floors, the way he raises his eyebrows when he's confused, the way his ears flip inside out and show the caramel color underneath, the way he throws his body across our laps on top of our laptops, reminding us that he's better than anything online.

(On que, please read a note from Sonny himself:               "Aggggggggbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg"

Really, that just happened.)

I remember how much he loves us, despite how mad I get at him, and I feel so blessed to have such a beautiful, cuddly, forgiving dog.

When I was a kid, I would have given anything to get our family dog to sleep with me, but he always wanted to be with my parents.  Now, I have a dog that would give anything to hop in bed with us and I won't let him because my white bedspread means too much.  That memory hit me the other day, and caused me to reevaluate.

Thanks for reminding me what really matters, Sonny Boy.  And welcome to the family.

Sunday at the Park

Sunday, we went to the park.  And it was lovely.

I hope to have many more afternoons like that one.

{Dear Martha Anne} Believe It or Not, We're Social

Dear Martha Anne,

I think fall will be disappointing in this: the leaves don't crunch.  It is not dry enough here.  Although I doubt I'll lose the habit of stepping out of my way to stomp on a particularly crunchy looking leaf.

Two other observations: 1) I miss the sound of sprinklers and 2) traffic around here is quite bothersome.  It takes so long to get anywhere.

In other news, we have been very social since arriving.

We recently hosted a potluck for the husband's MBA team.  It was quite the cultural experience.  Val from Peru brought a salad with mango, avacado, and jicama.  Jacquelyn from Cincinnati brought banana chocolate chip cookies.  Song from China brought fried rice and spicy fried potatoes.  Ratna from India brought Indian bread and curry (my personal favorite).  And the hubs and I provided Tyson chicken fingers, BBQ sauce, and lemonade.  We know how to represent America.  :)  It was actually all very delicious.  The chicken fingers were a hit, especially with Song.

We recently attended a women's volleyball game with two other couples.  Whoa.  This school knows how to cheer.

Also this week, we attended a birthday party.  I took second place (beaten by the birthday boy) at the Just Dance competition, but since the wife said he couldn't win at his own party, I got the $15 iTunes gift card.  I thought I was done dancing, but all those years of lessons are still paying off.

We also joined one family for dinner one night and another for a movie another night.

For all this socializing, however, we've otherwise been pretty lost in our own worlds.  Preston has been swamped with school.  This last week, as well as the next two, are supposed to be the busiest.  He's been kept busy with interviews for internships, which is a good thing.  I'm very grateful for our sweet pooch who keeps me company.

I hope all is well on the home front.

Until next week,

Me

I Choose to Hope

The other day, I was sitting on my couch in my new living room, looking at the bare walls and the mismatched furniture and feeling overwhelmed at my approach to the decorating process.  Preston and I don't want  to "wait" to live.  During this crazy graduate school process, we decided that we'll be happiest if we see ourselves in the middle, enjoying every day rather than wishing away the time until it's over.  As a result of that perspective, I'm putting more energy into our new home, creating a place that feels settled and organized--a sanctuary for us both during a time of challenge and discomfort.

I'm trying to be a good grad school student spouse, but oh boy has it been hard to find a routine.  Both Preston and I have been feeling a bit overwhelmed lately.  He is hammered with internship applications, career fairs, meetings and seminars, interviews, his graduate assistantship, and regular classes and homework.  I've been applying for jobs but haven't been enthused about any kind of work. I want work doing what I love--something I'll feel motivated to do for 40 hours a week.  I can't seem to determine what that is.  Right now I just want to stay home to cuddle my dog and decorate.

Back to the couch: I was staring at paint chips and color palettes, a bit anxious because I could feel the pressure that the husband was under while he worked in the other room.  And then Syria happened.  In no time I'm listening to news of murdered civilians, chemical weapons, and rumors of U.S. involvement and a divided government.  This was not the shot of hope we both needed so badly.

I sat back into the couch cushions as my perspective completely disassembled.  I felt awful for wanting to paint my walls and worrying about color palettes when others were worrying about chemical warfare.  I felt awful for desiring a stimulating job and having ambition--I told myself I should be satisfied with whatever job I got, because it would be a job.  I felt selfish and shallow for stressing about graduate school and wanting to go about the process in the right way, because who cared?  What mattered was staying alive.  I felt so guilty for being American and privileged.

I sat--my world gray--a bit stunned, when an image of a little Syrian child came to mind. Thin and wearing dirty linen, he nevertheless smiled a beautiful, happy, smile, and then gently began to pick up the pieces of my scattered mind, holding each thought with consideration and reverence.  He made a beautiful picture out of these jumbled pieces, and I knew that this child, brought up in a world of bigotry, cruelty, and fear, wanted me to dream big, to hope--hope even in small things like matching place mats and warm cookies.  He looked at me, holding his beautiful creation, and requested that I never limit my own happiness for the presumed sake of the sufferer.  Because it would not help that sufferer.  I imagine those lost little children who are angels so soon are grateful that my concern is not about civil war.  My concerns involve stretching my heart and my mind.  Managing my time and finances.  Building relationships.  Making the most out of the crazy that is grad school.  I do have concerns.  This is a challenging time for the husband and me.  We're easily swayed by anxiety and doubt.  Hope has been elusive.  Those challenges are real in their nature.

And a little Syrian child in my head taught me (again) that I need not regret a life where such are my challenges.  I am free to revel in the beauty that surrounds me, to love a bouquet of roses from my husband given in the pureness of his heart.  Though others suffer, it's okay for me to water my roses.

So that evening, for the sake of good, Preston and I regrouped.  We committed to choose hope, to act rather than be acted upon.  We will dream, seek greater heights, and live happily because what else is there to do in the face of suffering?

I tell you what, that next morning was indeed lovely and bright.

{Dear Martha Anne} Week One

Dear Martha Anne,

Well, I'm here, and have been for a week now.  I came down with a wicked cold today.  This damp air must be getting to me.

This place is pretty different in many ways.  I've certainly noticed such during my morning runs.  I can't tell if the insane amounts of perspiration on my body are from inside or out.  Though this place is not Caribbean humid, it has thick, heavy, wet air all the same.  A plus to this air is that I don't find myself desperate for water on my long runs; a minus is that I have to wash my hair every morning.  This area has gorgeous trails that wind all around the city, fields, and bogs, opening up miles of running and biking opportunity.  However, unlike in Utah, I have to work longer for a good exercise.  I look forward to any sort of incline I can get while out on the trails.  That is one thing high elevation has going for it: you don't have to get creative to push your body to its limits.

The husband and I were introduced to chiggers this week.  What awful little critters.  I received 17 bites on my feet within 5 minutes.  Bare foot in the grass has not the same appeal here as it did in Utah.  I've also become acquainted with the sound of tree frogs. My word are they loud!  There are so many trees here, and the frogs just fill them up and croak at each other all night long.  The birds here are quite loud, too.  I haven't heard one sing yet.  Just scream.  But boy oh boy are their colors brilliant.  I saw my first cardinal this week.  It's as red in real life as it is in the pictures!  What a beautiful bird.

Sadly, I have yet to see fireflies.

Adjusting to variations in cooking has been interesting.  I used my broiler this week.  It took 12 minutes to get the cheese on my croque monsieur sandwiches to brown.  In Utah, they would have been ash by then.






But overall, the husband and I have really liked our new home.  The people are very friendly.  We've received cookies 7 times in the last two weeks.  And check out the <bounty.  I can't wait to try that caramel apple butter and those pears.  My stomach is definitely going to like it here.











The biggest difference here is that instead of one sweet boy, I now have two.  Meet Sonny.  (Who was at first known as Hank, then Prince Henry, then Tootles, and now Sonny, which finally seems to fit best.)

He is the sweetest thing, and so well behaved.  The only problem we are having with our Sonny Boy is that he loves us so much, he cries and cries at night when we won't let him on our bed and then waits until we are asleep before jumping up to cuddle with us at 2:00 in the morning.  He'll walk right up between our heads and curl into a ball.  And the little thing is so darn cute that its hard to kick him out...

We sure love our Sonny Boy!

And that's the scoop.  Until next week!

Love,

Me