Simply good stuff

According to the arrivals status as John F. Kennedy International Airport, Delta Airlines Flight 9348 arriving from Amsterdam has landed, which means Chris is on American soil again and I hope that by the time I get home at 5:30pm this afternoon, he's made it there too!

In addition to this I have been thinking about wonderful things I've experienced and enjoyed over the past few days. (Even since arriving home from my retreat.) Of course my husband coming home is the best part of my week- by far- but here are some additional things that have brought me joy:

1. Making a second visit to the "wash & fold" and letting someone else wash (and fold) my towels and sheets

I have relinquished this. I believe (now) that just because I don't have enough time in my day to do everything does not make me a terrible person/ wife/ member of society. It's not that we're wealthy, but this is just one of those things that I'm learning it's okay to let go of. I can't do it all. It's New York- it is what it is. And if $8 bucks a week saves me a little mental energy and gives me an additional night a week to go on a walk or spend time with my husband- so be it! (I'm still a little leery about having someone else do all my laundry for me--- but this is progress no less. I'm sure the day will com.)

2. Having a delicious Asian dish at my friends home in New Jersey.

I spent Tuesday night in New Jersey eating a wonderful Chinese inspired dish with kale, ginger, finely sliced onion, and chicken served over brown rice made in the kitchen of my dear friends. Liisa even gave me my own little jar of Five Spice, which smelled so aromatic throughout their home. I've never cooked with five spice, but the anise, fennel, cinnamon and clove made the dish amazing!

They had invited me to spend the night on their sofa, so of course I accepted the invitation. I got to play with five month old Lewis even though he was a little cranky Tuesday night, having missed his afternoon nap. But Wednesday morning in his chocolate brown jammies he was much more willing to let me kiss his neck rolls and bounce him in my lap. There's nothing in the world like getting baby lovin'.

3. Divine appointments

I love it when I just "run into people" on the streets of New York. Monday during my lunch hour I walked the 20 blocks to Madison Square Park where I sat, listened, just was & then turned around and walked back. It was during this mid-day jaunt that I ran into Lauren. Wednesday I bumped into Beth after getting my eye-brows threaded and later than evening when I was headed to yoga I turned the corner and spotted Kristin. Those hugs and gentle shoulder touches and brief five minute encounters do wonders for my attitude about living here. It's good!

4. Whole Foods food bar

bok choy

something called "power salad" with red cabbage, kale, blueberries & maybe pinenuts,

roasted eggplant

mango jalapeno cilantro cabbage deliciousness

5. Fresh peaches, plums, nectarines, tomatoes still warm from the sunshine which made them grow. ( I hate cold tomatoes!) Harvest season is here.

6. Putting Tessa's birthday gift in the mail. She turns two next week and I know she will have a sweet party.

7. Doing yoga regularly again at a studio only two blocks from our apartment. (30 days for $30!)

8. A phone conversation with my sister, LB

9. Downloading three new songs from iTunes, which I never seem to do anymore, and creating a new playlist I titled, Centering. This song was a wonderful find.

10. Buying six new books on Amazon for about $40- and I was able to complete my Anne Lamotte collection adding Traveling Mercies & Grace Eventually to my shelves. I've read these, but didn't own them until now. I think I'm going to start reading books that I own and haven't read yet... and re-reading books I loved. I'm currently reading/ praying through The Power of a Praying Wife. Good good stuff!

I'm sorry, I'm not Catholic

By Saturday afternoon word had gotten around camp that I was not in a twelve step program. Oh, and I wasn't Catholic.... (I was the only one, as far as I know, in our group of about 50 that wasn't in some way involved in a twelve-step program.)

During a conversation with a few people someone asked me, "What do you know about twelve-step programs?" I responded, "Well, last week I Googled twelve-step program and read the twelve steps. That is what I know."

(BTW the twelfth step is:

Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.

So that explains a little.)

Not that it really mattered, I found all the materials, discussions and topic to be completely relevant to my faith and Christian walk,

nonetheless...

I don't know the Serenity Prayer by heart, or the stations of the cross or The Apostles Creed. (Rich Mullins put the words to music and I could sing the Apostles Creed. Oh, Rich Mullins, now that is an amazing legacy.)

I don't believe in purgatory or going to confession. And stigmata, man, that is something we never discussed at my East Texas Baptist Church.

I don't know why candles are lit (for $2.00 each) to various saints, nor do I know what each saint represents or is symbolic of or reflects. And praying for the dead... I've never done it.

I'm pretty ignorant in ways of Catholic traditions. And while I think I should read and become knowledgeable in some of these things, I'm fine with our differences. For now anyway.

At Graymoor there were so many marble statues and shrines and crosses with Jesus still hanging there. I don' t know, I simply feel that if I had to look at that all the time heaviness might start weighing me down. Guilt perhaps? Just plain old sadness.

....

Saturday morning I was headed to breakfast and I entered the first door above which I read the sign, Dining Hall. The door was ajar. Inside I could see people sitting eating, pouring coffee. I walked right in and made a bee line to the nearest water pitcher to fill up my water bottle.

"No. You can't be here. No. What do you need?" This five-foot tall frizzy haired woman approached me. Wiping her hands on her apron she reached toward me, as if to direct me back toward the door through which I just walked.

I was taken aback. My eyes widened. I felt that lump in my throat like I had just done something horribly wrong. Perhaps this breakfast was for the youth group that was here on retreat as well & we were eating elsewhere.

"I'm sorry. What?," I replied, thinking about just running out the door and eating the dried apricots and almonds in my bag upstairs.

"This is the friar's end of the cafeteria," she said through pursed lips. "You can't be here. Everything you need is on the other end of the dining area. Everything that is down here is down there too."

"I am so sorry," said over enunciating each syllable as I looked around wondering who saw me commit the most obvious of sins.

As I walked toward the beverage and food tables that I could partake in I thought how I really had wanted to say, "I am so sorry. I'm not Catholic. I didn't know."

So, for each meal going forward, I walked passed the first entrance down the hall about twenty more yards to the second entrance so I could eat with the common folk and sit at their table. Honestly, I had no idea...

Blasted Silence

Fireworks?

Thunder?

Just across the Hudson River, what I hear but can not see is artillery.

Guns

Weapons

that ring out

echoing throughout these hills.

And I'm sitting at a monastery

with echinacea and marigolds

with saints and chipmunks and real monks

Odd.

The lilies surround me

orange

yellow

Queen Anne's lace

Big bushes of day lilies

reaching toward the sun

Serene

Calm

Quiet

Birds Chirp

Candles flicker at the Shrine of Saint Anthony

And across the river our nations most prestigious military training facility lies

awake with fiery defense

Defend

Protect

Stay Alert

Be Brave, Be Ready, Be the best you can.

(in complete opposition to my purpose this weekend)

I imagine the 19, 20, 21-year-old boys over there now

Somewhere in those trees

Shooting weaponry

Running, rolling, focusing

Oh, God reconcile us

to you, to each other

For your names sake

West Point

Graymoor

Worlds apart across the river

Retreating- Day One

This past weekend was simply amazing. It was just as it was meant to be- all things considered. It was a test of my faith, endurance and complete reliance on the grace of God.

First- let me (again) comment on the heat. I know I'm from Texas and I know it's been over 100 degrees there for what, like 25 days in a row. I get it. It's hot. However, what Texans don't understand is that New York is not equipped or ready for temperatures in the hundreds.

Deep within the tunnels and tracks that run under this city- it's scorching. There's minimal circulation. I was anticipating the air that would finally circulate through the train once we pulled away from the station. However, on a packed train headed upstate, along the Hudson, during rush hour - the air was turned on minimally.

The conductor stated that they were trying to conserve energy and that the train just couldn't keep it cool enough. It was stuffy and warm. While a baby cried and people complained I fanned myself with a fan that I just happened to have gotten for free last week while my mom and I shopped consignment. When I could hear the hum of the air conditioner, even though I couldn't feel it all that much, it made me feel a little better. Something about knowing that the air was at least circulating.

But as soon as it the motor would click off and we were all rattling along the tracks in silence it was just unbearable. I had to talk myself out of going into panic mode and declaring, "Let me off now!!!" The heat zapped everyone's energies and as we swayed left and right rolling along it was strangely quiet. I was left with an eerie feeling that we all might fall asleep and never, ever wake up.

An hour later I finally made it to Graymoor, which is a monastery/ nunnery/ has a housing facility for men in rehab. Mostly it's just used for retreat weekends and spiritual get-a-ways. The various buildings are spread throughout the entire facility on many acres in the hills along the Hudson River. And while I didn't see any nuns or guys in the throws of some deep withdrawal, I did see friars.

Our housing was at top of the hill and I had my own little room which, in some ways, reminded me of being at youth camp again. My room had a twin bed, a ceiling fan, an amazing view and no air conditioning.

There were few air conditioned spots in the entire facility. One lounge area and one of the chapels were cooler- but not really all that cool. The dining hall was about 95 degrees- with no circulation and the room most of our meetings were held in never seemed to cool off. But I did manage to sleep at night- on top of the covers, in minimal clothing, the plastic mattress enveloping me and sticking to my legs.

I know that this is not what I should be sharing and explaining about my prayer and mediation weekend, but it sort of made it what it was. The food terrible- but I ate it. No air- but I didn't complain. I was simply happy to be out of Manhattan during the hottest days I've lived through in the northeast.

Waking Saturday morning and walking the grounds- through the hills and among the green landscape - it was so much cooler. Eighty degrees felt like Springtime. I could breathe again!

...

Friday night we met for group meditation and a little background session on intimacy/ prayer/ Christian meditation. Let me tell you, I was scared to death to sit silent in a room for twenty minutes. Just the thought of it brought tears to my eyes. Mostly, I'm afraid of the thoughts that might surface and fly across my mind like passing clouds. Our facilitator instructed us to just, "let them go" and not try too hard to keep a blank mind.

Having no thoughts is impossible, but the purpose of meditation is to give God a chance to speak. To push all list making and worries and concerns and desires aside and simply sit in His presence. Sounds easy, but it takes discipline.

Friday night I was reminded of my value. Of my part in God's story. Months ago I asked for God to use me and he is. He has answered prayers, removed obstacles, taken away all that is unnecessary.

Friday night's meditation was healing. It was remarkable & all I had to do was submit. Not try. Not judge myself immediately after 20 minutes of solitude thinking, "how was that?" "did I do it right" "what changed" "what did I learn"... and on and on. It's just to be.

The changes that are made- deep within- make themselves known over time. There is not a right and wrong. When you've lived your life as a perfectionist for so long, it's difficult to accept that. But there is peace and freedom when you finally believe it to be true.

This past month (without Christopher) has been a season of deep growth and this was a perfect summation and way for me to immerse myself and really reflect on that. I've been challenged & had to face some fears & have started learning a little more about what grace means.

That was Friday night..... Submitting to the healing power of God and just letting him do his God thing. Even if it was difficult to still my mind for twenty minutes, God doesn't even need five minutes, he just needs me to let go of my desire for security, control and acceptance.

Because we're all so hot

Here's a picture from February. Brrrrrr? Chilly. Freezing Cold, right?

Today the heat index in NYC is supposed to reach 115 degrees. And I worry about another blackout. My mind immediately goes there. I can not imagine what that would be like, especially with Chris gone- not that he could protect me from heat or whatever it is I'm worried about- but at least he'd be here with me. Going through this mess!

I am currently avoiding the subway (AKA Dante's tenth level of hell). This means it took me an hour to get 20 blocks on the bus yesterday at 5:00pm. An hour to get a mile, but I was not about to walk. No sir.

To stay cool I am wearing cotton and avoiding synthetics, drinking tons of water and coconut water and my Emergen-C (electrolytes rule!) Ponytails, tinted sunscreen and watermelon have become a part of my daily routine. I also find that listening to more subdued music with a slower beat keeps me from going mental as I gasp for each breath.

...

However this weekend, I am escaping this city, perhaps not the heat- but the metal and concrete and car exhaust that leaves me feeling buried at the end of each day; caked up with a brown film that doesn't wash off with Dove bar soap. It's simply oppressive.

Today at 4:30 I'll board the Metro-North and get of at Peekskill which is right across the Hudson from West Point, just an hour away. From there I'll catch a taxi to the Graymoor Spiritual Life Center. I'm going on a prayer and meditation weekend Friday night thru Sunday afternoon. While this was my own decision and I'm going alone- I must say that I'm a bit nervous as to what to expect. What will we "do" all day? What is the agenda? Oh, yeah- prayer and meditation...

I'm going to be for the weekend. Not do. This is not work. This is a life experience. There are not supposed to be any expectations or rules or check lists that need to be marked off. It's an escape.

Going inside myself and learning more about me is hard. Asking God what he wants me to do and how he feels about___________ is hard. This (life I guess) is all happening in God's timing- and I see that, but it's still pushing me a little further than I'm comfortable with. So, I'm hoping I find solace and rest in the quiet and stillness and that I'm not just waiting for it to all be over. I have to let God be God and speak into those areas of my soul that I continuously ignore- thinking, it'll all come together somehow. Avoidance has not gotten me very far. And things aren't just going to happen.

In the alone,

in the stillness

in the thoughtlessness & purposeful quiet

I long to hear from my God.

Before the mountains were born,

before you gave birth the the earth and the world,

from everlasting to everlasting You are God. Ps. 90:2

City Mouse and Country Mouse

Whew! What a week. My mom left yesterday after a week visiting me here, in New York City. This was the first time, in a long time, where we've been alone- just mom and Stef. We dined where we liked, shopped where we wanted, rested when we needed too. I think she really enjoyed her time here- having been to NYC many times in the past four years, we did more "off the beaten path" things. The real New York. Places tourists don't go... and, some that they do because they're just so darn great!

I think the highlights of her trip her might be:

1. Williamsburg, Brooklyn- flea markets, antique stores, consignment shops and resale stores ABOUND. Sadly enough, I had never been to Williamsburg, and really I'd only been to Brooklyn about ten times before this last week. However, in the last week alone we visited this borough three times! In Williamsburg we bought used clothing and visited tons of shops. We bought ankle bracelets (because that is what mother's and daughters do), ate some really good pizza at Fornino, watched hipsters and visited a tattoo parlor. In Williamsburg I saw: a record player sitting in the window sill of a bar- spinning methodically, huge antique shops that could rival many estate sales I've been to in East Texas, and well, lots of tattooed, pierced people under twenty-five.

2. Brookyn - It deserves two listings really. We walked the promenade in Brooklyn Heights and saw gorgeous brownstones on tree-lined streets and let the brick streets massage my feet under the squishy-ness of my flip-flops.

I enjoyed some of the best iced coffee I've ever had - or maybe it was simply because it was so sweltering hot and humid. When I asked the barista for an iced half-caf I got a blank stare. "We make each cup fresh," she tells me. "Oh," I say, "I guess I just need to commit." So, I chose to be decaffeinated.

Brooklyn's more quiet. It's more still. We walked the Brooklyn Bridge at 8:00pm and the breeze wisp our hair into our eyes. Brooklyn: it's worth the subway ride.

3. The Metropolitan Museum of Art- Museums aren't really my thing (or my moms) but we did enjoy moseying through and taking it all in. The space itself- the architecture and massiveness of the building- are so impressive. One could seriously spend an entire day going through each gallery and exhibit.

4. Dining Out- Growing up I didn't really eat out. Like ever. Maybe if we were with dad on a Saturday we'd stop at Dairy Queen for a steak finger basket and a dipped cone. And on our birthday's we got to take a friend (one, singular friend) out to eat with us- and I usually chose some place really wonderful like Golden Corral or some Chinese buffet. In East Texas, in the late 90's the food options were really sparse.

But, this week mom and I had amazing sea food at Pio Pio , Beyoglu, and The Lobster Place. We ate breads and chocolates and macaroons and yogurt. Delish!

5. Meeting all my friends. My mom was able to go to Praise Team rehearsal with me Wednesday night and hang out with us afterward- eating burgers and drinking wine. Sunday at church she met more of my New York City family, people that she's heard so much about.

...

I am thankful that my mom is my friend. That we get along and can laugh and share and just be together. I don't worry about her judging me or belittling me or being passive aggressive or condoning me. So many of my friends have strained relationships with their mothers- and I'm lucky that I get to be me around my mom.

Don't change your hair for me

...not if you care for me.

I've liked the song My Funny Valentine since I was in middle school. The way I remember it I was introduced to the song by my choir instructor... but that could be all wrong. I had this thing for jazz music during the 7th and 8th grade and bought cassette tapes of Manhattan Transfer.

Today I heard the song again while sitting in Bryant Park. Each weekday afternoon from 12:00 - 2:00 there is a different pianist who plays the lima-bean green piano that has a huge umbrella mounted on one side.

That line, about the hair, makes me think of Chris- and his massive curls. I miss him. I miss his curls even though they clog up our shower drain. So, I was sitting in Bryant Park eating my Amy's Spinach Pocket. (*note* I don't buy many pre-packaged foods; frozen fruits/ veggies and the occasional Soy Crisps is about it, BUT, these spinach pockets are so freaking delicious. I'm not kidding. If it sounds appealing whatsoever to you, give it a try. The spinach, the soft doughy wrap- it's something I couldn't make at home. The flavor reminds me of my childhood.)

While noshing and listening I decided to check Jamie's Facebook page for updates on the Rwanda trip. (Chris is in Rwanda, Jamie is the team leader and she's been posting updates mostly everyday- with pictures as well and they make me so happy.)

Among today's images was a picture of Chris surrounded by about 10-15 Rwandan children. They are in his lap, seated around him, leaning on his strong shoulders and smiling from ear to ear. The caption under the picture explains how Chris carved the steps they are seated on out of the hard clay. And I cried. I can't wait to hear his stories.

...

While Chris's hair isn't clogging up our drain, mine is shedding like crazy! I guess it's just the summer, but really I feel like I could make a wig out of what I swept up this weekend alone. Today I actually tried a new beauty product: waterless shampoo. I was skeptical, and quite frankly haven't previously seen the need, I just wash my hair every day. I know, I know, some people don't need to--- they are fine with every other day, or even every three days, but not this greasy head. I have to wash my hair every day or you would be able to fry french fries in the amount of grease you could wring out of my hair.

So, per my beauty editor friend and my friend who could be a beauty editor, I'm giving it a try today. So far, so good. I also hear you shouldn't wash your hair every day. So they say... Is this true? Who knows. For now, waterless shampoo will give me a few more minutes of sleep and more importantly I don't have to fire up that blow-drier or worse, walk to the bus with wet hair that steams on my neck in this awful humidity.

....

In other beauty news, my mascara was discontinued. How does this happen? Like over night it's all gone from every shelf in every drugstore in Manhattan. Loreal waterproof lash-out in black can not be found anywhere. I'm well aware that even if I found one, I'd have to find a replacement sooner or later. I hate trying new mascara. You know immediately if you like it or not, and if not, well, that was a waste of $6, $12, $22 dollars!!!

I've been told that Lancome is good. Yves Saint Laurnet. Cover Girl lash blast has gotten rave reviews from many friends. And Mary Kay has a brand new mascara Love Lash.... Oh, the options are endless. The main deciding factor is that I'm on a budget and will not be dropping $30 for mascara any time soon. I am actually giving the Mary Kay Lash Love a try today, and I've got to say, even in this 91 degrees weather, that keeps my face a little damp and supple as I pound these sidewalks- it is holding up pretty well, even though it's not waterproof.

...

I feel materialistic, stuck in this consumer driven hole- Manhattan. Mascara. This is my complaint today. And contemplating washing my hair or not. While Chris is in Rwanda digging wells for entire communities who need clean water, building homes and making stairs.

God forgive us. Help us get it right.

Upbringing

Next week my mom will be visiting me here in NYC. Since she's been here several times, we are trying to decide on events, activities and locations that we haven't really frequented all that much. New places.

On the list are some more obvious locations:

The Metropolitan Museum of Art

The Cloisters

Saint John the Divine

Then there are the not so obvious:

Korea town for lunch - this is a tiny block or so near Macy's/ Herald Square, and while I've walked the block a few times and stopped at the grocer in the area- I've never actually had lunch there. However, after perusing a few menu's and reading reviews online I'm sort of reconsidering. I'm pretty open to all types of foods, but the thought of oxtail soup (yes, it means cow tail) and raw marinated beef... make my stomach churn. I'm thinking about the vegan Korea town restaurant!

Visit the Smorgasburg flea market in Brooklyn

Elia's Corner for seafood in Astoria, Queens- I've been to this place once before, and it's truly the freshest, most authentic Greek-style seafood place around. There is no menu, and the waitstaff just rattle off all the fish for the day, the specials and sides. There's really noting like it! Delish.

Also, because it is my mom, and because she's been to NYC now, a few times- I will be taking advantage of these days off work and doing some of those things that I just keep avoid doing:

Macy's - I have a coupon for a free bra

Grocery shopping at Trader Joe's (because I have an extra set of arms, and my mom is like me- she loves a good grocery store!!)

Hang some pictures/ photography in our new place

Go get another tattoo

plus...

The Tuesday that she arrives is the first night of a Study I've signed up for on Spiritual Gifts which I may/ may not make it to.

Wednesday I've scheduled an acupuncture appointment & praise team rehearsal (followed by a summer hanging out together time. This is how we are maintaining community throughout the summer while choir is on hiatus.)

Thursday I have a chiropractor appointment

Friday I AM working (but only 8:00- 1:00)

Sunday I'm singing on the praise team

Whew!!!

Oh, and I hope to drag my momma to yoga with me a couple times while she's here!! (Not that this will be hard, my mother has done yoga much longer than I have.) She works out more diligently and with more vigor than anyone else I know. My mom is a swimmer with strong shoulders- and she does yoga- and she's probably on the elliptical machine most mornings. So, getting in a few walks in Central Park, or a few yoga classes shouldn't take that much coercing.

Even though we'll be in the city most of the time- just getting out to Queens and Brooklyn and more spacious places is really nice. Being in the company of my mom and having her prospective and listening ears and hugs will lift me up.

My parents knew they raised decent kids, I guess. Or if they were inwardly freaking out they never, ever showed it. Not when I got my first tattoo or my fifth. Not when my sister had dreadlocks and died them blue. Not when choosing colleges or careers or hobbies or mates have they been overbearing and unapproachable and distant. I know they feel something, but I want to believe that they truly understand that hairdo's and tattoos and surprise weddings don't really make a person who they are.

...

This week I received two Little Golden books in the mail that I ordered on Amazon illustrated by Eloise Wilkin; Wonders of Nature and My Little Golden book about God. As I searched through the books on Amazon I realized how as a child, my mom read me almost all of these. I loved the stories and pictures and still do. Even though so many of her books are now out of print (my mom still has all ours!) and all of them were published long before I was born, Eloise Wilkin remains one of my most favorite children's illustrators of all time. These are the things that make me think of mom: books & reading & games & living without television but being highly entertained. Being a family.

...

And in the book I'm reading, The Dirty Life, the author tells of her first interactions with her now husband. How he smelled of diesel and warm skin and earth. It made me think of my dad. Just this week on the phone, my mom told me that dad had taken Tuesday off work to work on his Farmall." He bought a new old tractor," she told me. I knew what this meant. The tractor he works with (not the parade tractor) is an antique/ rebuilt. So, when he finds a decent one for sale, he buys it for parts. These are things that make me think of dad: wranglers, the cold chalk-like smell of concrete and Carhartt coveralls.

Making a Happy Home

Since moving only a couple weeks ago, I'm finally getting around to uploading my pictures from my camera to our computer. The title of the image folder on our Mac is "Most of June," because that is what it is. There are pictures from our Lake Placid trip, a baby shower, a rooftop party and my sister's visit to NYC. I will show some of them to you soon, I promise. In the mean time- this is what you get. Words- sprinkled with a few camera phone images every now and then.

...

I will tell you now about our new apartment- being totally objective, as I'm still trying to figure out how everything will fit, where it will all go and how it one one day feel like home, although during the in-between I often wonder.... Especially since when Chris returns I'll have spent majority of my nights there alone.

It's a loft apartment with 18 foot ceilings and a huge window wall that looks out over 62nd Street. It's different having windows on the 3rd floor (vs. the 32nd) because I can actually look out across the street and wave at the people on the patios across the way (if I was so inclined). It's really put a damper on the "walk around the house in whatever you want." I don't want to keep the shades drawn all the time, but it's just weird thinking that someone could be looking right in on you as you watch old episodes of Thirtysomething, or pour a glass of milk at 11:00 at night. Ick! There are a couple good sized trees that partially block a direct view into our place, but still...

Our kitchen is a New York Kitchenette that is really just an extension of our living area; complete with refrigerator (a New York sized one- no ice maker, shelves too small for pizza boxes or bottles of wine), stove, sink and dishwasher. While the dishwasher is an exciting feature, I'd rather have an electrical outlet. Or more counter space. While I was cooking up some mushrooms and spinach for an omelet last night, I realized that there is no vent- so I prayed I wouldn't set off the smoke detector. And there is no microwave oven, which is why I purchased a tea pot. It's going to take some getting used to.

Our bed is in a loft that looks out over the living room. At the top of the stairs there are plenty of shelves built in for shoes (Stefani) and toolboxes (Chris) and clothes that fold well. For what it is, the owners have really maximized the storage space capabilities and furnished the space well. (It's in a co-op building.) We also have a ceiling fan and track lighting- very rare finds in NYC.

The bathroom has a wonderful sized mirror and three drawers (again a first for us in an NYC apartment.) Most apartments have no more than a pedestal sink and a shower- and not room for much else. Under the staircase we also have A closet. Well, I have A closet....

I'm trying to accept the idea of eating out more. Or buying fewer groceries, since there is less space. I'm warming up to the idea of sending out our laundry - since we no longer have a washer and drier. (Although, I think I'll continue to do my own undergarments and things I'm particular about... which really only leaves towels!!)

It's more than four walls that make a house a home, and I know we are living exactly where we are supposed to be. I can mail some more Christmas decor back to Texas--- and get rid of some things--- I refuse to pay for storage. However, if I bump my head one more time in that loft... I think I'll loose it.

I'm 31 years old, and it's still hard letting go of my dreams for where I thought I'd be at this point in my life: a garden, a patio, owning four plates and bowls that match, or a vacuum cleaner, or one of those really nice Kitchenaid mixers in pink.... But I know this road, full of adventure and uncertainty, is real life. It's what we're called to- Chris and I. And above all else, we are so so happy.

Holiday Weekend

This holiday weekend I spent as a single lady, in the city while Chris is traveling. Friday morning was tear-filled and bittersweet as I left for work, knowing that he would be loading a bus for JFK airport in a few short hours to head to Rwanda. But, we made it through.

Now, it's hard for me when I consider texting him or when I think, "Oh, I'll tell Chris about this tonight." Then within seconds I am brought back to reality - that we really have no way to communicate for the next ten days or so.

This is good for me though, having to sort through my personality, character, ask myself, What do you want to do? All too often, in efforts to make everyone else feel at ease and comfortable, I push my desires and wants to the side. Half the time I really don't know what I do want. And now, I have time to figure all this out. Being passive and indifferent all the time is sort of off-putting.

So, with my time this weekend (which began and 2:30pm Friday afternoon...) I went to my old neighborhood and got an amazing pedicure - with a ten minute leg massage- for $30. I love this little place because it's cheap, quaint, there are only 3 pedicure baths and 3 manicure tables, no televisions and NO cell phones are allowed. LOVE it! I appreciate a place that can make me feel somewhat unplugged from this city. I completed my evening with a yoga class- which I hate to admit, ruined the polish on the large toe of my left foot. I got home to find my the impression of my yoga mat in my deep burgundy polish. Luckily it wasn't something that a little clear top coat couldn't fix.

Saturday I worked in the park where I volunteer cleaning, and pruning and picking weeds. I really do enjoy it and it's only five blocks from our apartment. Saturday also included more yoga and a trip to Target where somehow I knew I'd walk out spending no less than $100. I came awfully close to my budget (a talent no doubt) spending $99.25! But, I knew when I went in for socks, underwear, yoga pants and a new pillow that I'd spend more than our usual grocery cost. All in all it was a success, and I did get a few groceries. Yoga pants were 50% off so instead of $16 each, I got two pair for $16 (see how that works?). And honestly, life is too short to sleep on an uncomfortable pillow.

Saturday night I watched Chicago- with Richard Gere and Catherine Zeta-Jones. Not too shabby. I'm usually not a big musical-movie lover, but I do like the music in Chicago.

Sunday I sang on the Praise Team and was at church until 1:00 or so. It rained all morning, and even though we only live two blocks from the church now, I got drenched on my walk and had to pat down my heels with wads of paper towels. The remainder of the day included a one hour nap, a delicious restorative yoga class in the evening that really is more like physical therapy than yoga.

It's a small, limited space size class where we prop ourselves up with bolsters and blankets and yoga blocks and just chill in those 7-10 poses over the course of the hour and fifteen minutes. The instructor is so gentle and her voice like silk and she even puts lavender oil or mint oil on us if we are so inclined. It's just a wonderful treat before thinking about returning to work Monday morning. And afterward on my stroll home I stopped for some soft serve fruit. There are only three ingredients in their product: fruit, water, and cane sugar. I had pear with graham cracker crumbs and ate it while looking out the window onto Third Avenue.

On the fourth of July I went to a 9:15AM yoga class- one of three classes for the day. It was pretty full and I found the "normal" class attendees a bit stubborn and bitter in their unwelcoming ways. All older, gray headed women who were reluctant to scoot up or in or make room for more people in the class. Although, the woman in front of me had died her gray hair bright red, wore full makeup & jewelry that clanged as we moved. A bit much for a yoga class--- Overall, they were cliquish and talkative and, quite frankly, didn't want "us" there.

Afterward, I met a friend for a late lunch and chatting. She and I took the Roosevelt Island Tram across the East River and spent the afternoon well into the night laughing, talking and eating with our friends who live there. Their daughter ran through the fountains in the children's park and we sat in the shade and swatted bugs. I colored in the My Little Pony's coloring book while drinking Skinny Girl Margarita - how much better can life get than this?

We were on the wrong river and way too far north to see any fireworks, but that didn't matter. The ribs and watermelon tasted delicious and the sunset was a brilliant peach that left me saying, "I just need to see this every once in awhile to be reminded everything is okay in the world."