Through a Glass, Darkly

If you thought the Beast (as Caro named it) was going to die a sad, unloved existence, well, you were wrong. We had planned on giving it to Habitat, but it turns out that they didn’t want it. I can’t imagine why. Not wanting to throw the Beast away, we turned to Craigslist. We are not big Craigslist people, mostly because we don’t have the time for it. It always seems like one of those things you have to stay on top of, and I have enough internet things to stay on top of already. But Mike decided to try listing the Beast, and in about ten minutes, he had an email about it. The next morning, someone came to pick it up. And lo, the Beast has left us forever. I can’t believe how fast it went. Or that anyone wanted the Beast at all. It takes all kinds in this world.

In the Beast’s place, we have this shiny new stove. I used it to bake a cake for my friend, and everything worked out just fine.

I know what you are going to ask. Why is that picture so crooked? I have no idea why I can’t do any better than that. I tried five times and then gave up.

I know what else you want to ask! Why, if we bought a new stove, didn’t we get a flat top? Why the coils? Well, we had a flat top range in our last house, and, to be frank, we hated it. I mean, it cooked okay (but just okay, I thought, because it wasn’t completely even), but we could never get it clean. And we cook a lot. So it was kind of a pain to either be cleaning it or leaving it dirty all the time. We wanted to do a gas range, but we didn’t want a gas oven (I read a lot of Sylvia Plath earlier this year, okay?) and so we decided that what would make us happiest was just to go old school and get the coils. So far so good.

And, um, hey! Check out our lack of flooring and cabinets! I don’t need those things to bake cakes, though. I scoff at flooring and cabinets. Especially countertops. I love not really having anywhere to work in the kitchen. I thrive on it, really. It’s the danger and excitement of taking something out of the oven and not really having somewhere to put it that I love the most. (Apparently, I also scorn planning ahead.)

We went and updated our library cards this week. We still had our old ones from when we used to live here, but the librarian shredded those and now we have shiny new ones to match our shiny new address. I remembered a few books that I had been wanting to read (this was quite an accomplishment, because I tend to walk in a library or bookstore and go totally blank, as if I have never heard of any books ever), so I went ahead and checked them out, and when we got home, I transported a bunch of books from my “to read” list into my library account so that I can look them up when I am at the library. Yay for technology! (I do wish they had email notification, though.)

I felt a little bit lost as I wandered the stacks, being on the “patron” side of the public library, not having access to all the new stuff right away. I like what I do now, but I miss knowing all the new books. I keep tossing around the idea that I should get a subscription to Library Journal just so I can read the reviews (and the articles, but I love the reviews). I love book reviews. They may be one of my vices. I am addicted to them. And there are other book review sources, but Library Journal is the Bible of book reviews as far as I am concerned.

Oddly enough, the day after we went to the library, I ended up back at my old library, visiting my old book club and the people I used to work with. They all asked me if I miss them, and I do. I was comfortable there, and happy, and of course I miss the people and the excitement (libraries can be exciting places, too) and knowing what was going on. I got home that night and cried a little bit about it (there are also big boxes full of our new cabinets in our living room, we have no floors in our kitchen, and our air conditioner was rattling, so I had lots of reasons for crying . . . can you say DISASTER ZONE?). I am happy with the road I chose. In fact, I think I have experienced more contentment and rest in the past month than I can remember in a long time. But it is okay to miss some things about my old life, too, and I feel blessed to be able to say that I do.

Mike and I went to see She & Him at the Cat’s Cradle last night. We realized a few things.

1. We are too old for concerts without assigned seating. Too old, I tell you! When we saw Glen and Marketa, we had assigned seating, and it was basically the best ever. No waiting in crazy lines in the hot sun so we could have a good position in the venue. (And, for us, a good position in the venue means “sitting down on the side” not “close to the stage.” Because we are old.)

2. We are too old for opening acts. I know, it’s great for those musicians to get some exposure, but . . . what if they are not good? As last night’s opening act was. Not. Good. I can’t figure out why an alt-blugrass-country group would be touring with She & Him. They didn’t go together well at all. Also, they were terrible. They couldn’t harmonize, and they were bad twangy (there’s good twangy and then there’s what happened last night). The whole time they were singing, I was thinking, “If these bozos would get off the stage, Matt and Zooey could go ahead and play and then we could get home earlier.” I am so old, you guys. So old. I was thinking about bed rather than listening to the opening act.

3. We are too old to be around that many people in a small space. Or maybe that’s just me. For one thing, it was crazy sticky. And that makes me cranky. For another, I don’t do the jostling thing well anymore. I want my personal space. I got here early and stood in line just so I could sit here. I see no reason why I should scoot over and make room for your late self.

4. Also, we thought the drums were too loud. We are apparently our own grandparents.

However, I thought the show itself was very fun. When they were on Conan, it was . . . how do you say? Not good. Specifically, she was not good. But her stage presence was much better, her voice was strong, the two of them and the band seemed to be having a fun time, and the music sounded good. A little more dynamic than the CD, which doesn’t grab me all that much in some places. My favorite was “You’ve Really Got a Hold On Me” (of course). And, happily for me, they did “Magic Trick” as one of the encores. I did wish they had sung “When I Get to the Border,” which was the first song they recorded together. And Mike thinks they should cover “Little Boxes,” but he’s been watching a lot of Weeds, so he’s got that song on the brain. I am glad we went, and I will probably revisit the CD a little bit more now instead of the one or two songs I have been listening to. After I get my much-needed nap.

KARI: Have you seen that Feist Sesame Street video?

MIKE: No.

KARI: Oh, let me show it to you, it’s really cute.

MIKE: Okay.

KARI: Do you like Feist?

MIKE: Eh, she’s okay. Not really.

KARI: Here it is.

MIKE: *grins uncontrollably*

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I posted the video even though I am approximately the one billionth person to post it. That kind of cuteness needs to be spread around.

Alisa and I have had several conversations about the Super G Mart, and how we keep meaning to go. And then Mike called me from the Super G Mart, saying, “I am at this international food market on Market Street, and it is amazing!” I asked him if it was the Super G Mart, and he said he thought it was. He took me there on Sunday after church, and truly, it is amazing. There are great prices on the very fresh-looking produce (Big Bunny is thrilled at how cheap the cilantro is, because cilantro is her favorite) and meat, there is interesting international food (including international food with labels we cannot read), and there is international food we were already purchasing at other places, but that is cheaper and closer to our house than some of those other places. We are still trying to stick to local produce, so we didn’t get any of that right now, though I am sure we will at some point. We can’t always buy all of our produce from the Farmer’s Market, but in the summer, we might as well live it up. (As you can tell from how crazy we went on Saturday.) We got lots of beans, some Spanish olive oil (my mom brought home olive oil from Greece when she went on our trip and we can never be satisfied by store brand olive oil again), and some delicious olives, all for excellent prices.

And since our cabinets have been pulled out and we have no flooring in our kitchen, buying items to put in our pantry is exactly what we need to be doing, thanks for asking.

The whole church is organized in a cycle of seasons, liturgies, holy days, and Gospel readings that may be connected to how life unfolds. We need to revisit our experience over and over again; each time, each visit, another layer is peeled away, another piece or aspect is revealed. Our cells carry memories that rise on anniversaries, demand another look. Holy Week is a distillation of this repetition. Each Good Friday, every year, we look again. The result is a reordering of experience.

I hate to do book reviews where all I do is quote from the book, but there were so many beautiful passages in this book. In Things Seen and Unseen, Nora Gallagher chronicles a year of her life lived in the church calendar. I have written many times about how attending a church that follows the calendar gives meaning and shape to my own faith, so of course this book is right up my alley. My mom gave it to me for my birthday, and I read it eagerly while we were on vacation. I managed to keep from reading passages out loud to Mike only because I noted the page numbers. Now I will read them out loud to you.

As she is thinking about the evil in the world, she wonders what use faith is at all:

And thus I doubt. Doubt is to me the handmaiden of faith, its cop, the one that keeps faith straight. To doubt is an indication of freedom and a guard against fanaticism. But it is also so easy to doubt, so easy to be cynical hat the job appears to be to enlarge the part that believes, but only to enlarge it by taking the path made painful by the doubt and with the integrity born of the doubt rather than the inflation born of sentiment, heightened emotion, or the sometimes false camaraderie of a faith community.

I have heard the idea that doubt is the handmaiden of faith before (perhaps someone was quoting this book, or perhaps she has borrowed it from somewhere else), but I love the idea that it enlarges faith because it challenges faith and makes it more sincere. I struggle quite a bit when I see sentimentality and emotionalism in faith, though I am sure I am sentimental and emotional in my own ways, too. But, like Gallagher, I believe that what we are striving for is something of a more genuine sort, something born not out of nice ideas and smiley faces but by facing challenges and suffering and choosing truth.

When speaking of her return to church, she talked about how, for a long time, she attended church without letting it actually invade her heart:

The trouble was, I didn’t believe that it was about anything real. I went to church as if it were a ballet. I went to the ballet on Sunday, felt many different kinds of feelings, couldn’t bring those feelings into line with my intellect or figure out how to integrate them into my own experience, and so gradually they faded as the week wore on. It didn’t connect. I suspect that many people who faithfully attend church remain in such a state and don’t know what to do about it (And those who watch us from the outside wonder, rightly, What’s the point of all this?) What I finally understood was that simply going to church doesn’t do it, but neither does not going to church.

I think almost all regular church attenders would say that they understand what she is saying here. I have treated church like a nice play, one that I attend and that I think about, but that loses its impact as time wears on. Part of her story is about actually engaging with the people around her, especially through a small Bible study and then through working in a soup kitchen at her church. I have learned a lot about community from the people around me, but I still struggle with knowing how to share what is important to me, which is why I appreciated that part of her story so much.

One imagines religion as making one “good,” and various ideal ways of behaving are often touted in pulpits. But the opposite of sin is not virtue but faith. And none of it works without the weight of experience, knowing something as an experience rather than as an event that passes over the skin. How this I experiences this event and folds it into flesh. How a soul, as Margaret Drabble said, weathers into identity.

Faith is not about belief in something irrational or about a blind connection to something unreal. It’s about a gathering, an accumulation of events and experiences of a different order. These experiences are gradually convincing enough, or you have paid them so much attention, they reach critical mass. The famous “leap” comes at the beginning, when there is not enough experience to justify the effort. Even then, something begins faith–a memory of a reality or of an experience that doesn’t quite fit with everything else, the longing a soul has to find its shape in the world.

I don’t think she’s saying here that experience is the most important thing, but that how we experience our faith is important, choosing to believe and to serve and to love and letting that shape our souls rather than following a list of rules.

If, instead of waiting for stones to be changed to bread, we share the food we have; if, rather than waiting for the fantasy job or lover, we take on the people and work of our lives; if, rather than waiting for rescue, we lay down our lives for our friends–then we depart the world of deadly illusion for a living reality in which “every day the real caress” as Anais Nin wrote “replaces the ghostly lover.”

As Nora Gallagher struggles with her brother’s cancer, prepares food for the needy, and experiences the grace of serving communion, she is learning to escape the world of deadly illusion. This was a good book for me to read in the summer, in Ordinary Time. I can choose to see this as a massive vacation, or I can see it as part of my real, regular life. I have come to believe that the time given us is anything but ordinary, but even in the most mundane of situations, we can remember that, as the back of the book jacket says, “The road to the sacred is paved with the ordinary.”

The electricians have been here getting things ready for our new kitchen. We also asked them to install new ceiling fans in our library room and our bedroom. Installing a fan in our bedroom is what’s called “saving our marriage.” Mike can’t have the air conditioner very low at night because it gives him a sore throat, but I sleep so much better when things are cool. In fact, we have decided that I basically never slept better than those winter months where our heat was broken. In the summer, this means I have to have a fan.

Our electrician is an old friend of my parents, someone who has known me since I was born. We asked him about installing overhead lights, and then went out and bought ceiling fans. “You bought fans?” he said. “Well, I don’t blame you.”

I looked at him sheepishly and said, “What can I say, I’m my father’s daughter.”

“Yes,” he said, “that’s exactly what Ray would have done.”

—

Today we went a little crazy at the Farmer’s Market. Ready?

2 green peppers for a total of $1.50
1 jalapeno for free
1 bag of pita bread for $2.00
2 sweet onions for $1.75
1 bag of green beans for $1.25
2 (big) bags of basil for a total of $5.00 (we’re making a lot of pesto and freezing it for winter)
2 summer pattypan squash for $2.00
2 German Johnson tomatoes (looooove) for $2.90
Total: $16.40

(My intention was not to tell you about the Farmer’s Market every week, for the record. Just when we bought something different or unusual. This week’s unusual offering is the pattypan squash.)

(Also, in fairness to Melissa, this week’s article in the Scenes of Summer series was about yard sales. She was not, however, featured.)

Somehow or another, some of our pictures didn’t make it online, and we didn’t realize it until yesterday afternoon. So I want to point out a few things, like this sign at Prospect Park:

Mike, in that way that he does, nudged me so I would notice the sign. Because he likes to get me riled up about things. BUT WHAT IF I WANT TO BRING MY BARBECUE INTO THE PARK? WHAT THEN, PROSPECT PARK? GO AHEAD, TRY AND STOP ME! YOU WILL RIP THIS PULLED PORK OUT OF MY COLD DEAD HANDS! (I actually do think this sign is a little odd. I would think it would be “barbecuing.” Which is what other similar signs said. But this is further evidence that the word “grilling” is superior, because there is no confusion.)

Also, because I like this picture, here I am at Prospect Park:

Okay, now I will resume the regularly scheduled recap! On Thursday we went in search of New York City’s best burgers. Mike’s list, obviously. We decided to try The Burger Joint, and we were not disappointed. From there, we hiked up to the Met to purchase Alisa’s half birthday present: the William stapler. Alisa’s half birthday is close to my birthday, and somehow or another we got started exchanging presents for half birthdays as well as regular birthdays. I knew I wanted her present to come from New York, and she loves hippos. Yay, William! (I gave her the stapler already, so it’s okay for me to post this.)

From there, we headed over to the American Museum of Natural History (Mike’s list). I am going to be honest – I was not completely jazzed about going to the museum until I realized that this is where they have the dinosaurs. (I have clearly never seen A Night at the Museum.) I have a freakish love of dinosaurs. In fact, I was a little overly excited. As you can tell in the pictures.

When I was very small, my mother made me a stuffed stegosaurus for Christmas. His name was Diney. I loved him very much and slept with him for years and years. He hasn’t fallen apart, but he’s pretty threadbare (or, as I like to say, real). This picture is for my mom.

Mike and I had a bit of a disagreement about the dinosaurs. I said that I like to imagine that they were purple. And he did not think that was the smartest thing I had ever said. His argument is that if they were purple, they would have stood out and been easily killed. Well, they’re all extinct, aren’t they? Game, set, match. Besides, as the AMNH will tell you, no one really knows what color they were.

(So we should just use our imaginations.)

Thursday was so hot, you guys. By the time we got to the meteorites, I was basically done with everything.

My legs were shaking and I probably hadn’t had quite enough water. So we went back to our hotel to recover before going to Otto, Mario Batali’s pizza place (Kari’s list). A few years ago, I read Heat, and this restaurant was opened during the time that book talks about, so I thought I’d like to see it. Plus, Smitten Kitchen said it was the best pizza she’d ever had. And we all know that I trust her judgment. The thing about Otto . . . well, Mike kept saying, “I don’t understand this place.” The atmosphere is weird – it’s really loud. And there were people of all ages there. But it also felt upscale, though the prices were very reasonable. The food, though, was really awesome. Seriously good stuff. The olive oil gelato? Lives up to the hype. Oh. My. Gosh. I would go there again, just for that. The pizza I had was great, too, and the cheese was wonderful, and Mike’s spaghetti alla carbonara was very tasty. But the gelato . . . so good.

Friday was our last full day in New York. First we went down to Bleecker Street in Greenwich Village. This is from both our lists, because as a good Simon & Garfunkel fan, I wanted to see Bleecker Street, and Mike wanted to see the Village. Also, he had a black and white cookie. For Scott.

We walked around, had some pizza, and didn’t quite make it to Magnolia’s. Then we headed up to The Strand (Kari’s list). I got a tote bag, one with stripes that does not appear to be on their site. Lucky magazine recommended this one, but I don’t think I’m a toile kind of girl. (I asked Mike, “Am I stripes or toile?” and he was emphatic that I’m stripes. Sorry, toile.) Then we did another thing from my list, which was that we made our pilgrimage to the Cathedral of St. John the Divine. Mike wanted to see it, too, actually, but just because of the architecture. I wanted to see it because it was Madeleine L’Engle’s church, and for a while she was writer-in-residence there. It was amazing, and it must be quite an experience to attend a service there. I would like to do that sometime.

And then, for dinner, we went to Serendipity 3. I know, it’s kind of a hassle, and it’s such a touristy thing, but the food was pretty good (I had the black bean burger), and the frozen hot chocolate really was delicious. And now I can cross it off my list.

After getting cleaned up, we went back out to the theater to see Avenue Q (Mike’s list). Interestingly, he enjoyed this one more, but I’d have to say that I enjoyed Spring Awakening more. It was funny, though, and I am glad we saw it.

Saturday morning we did another touristy thing and went to BB King’s to see the Beatles tribute band Strawberry Fields. And you know what? I had a lot of fun. It was silly, but the music was good. They were really serious about it – I have a t-shirt that someone gave me that has a picture of the Beatles and says Vox: Sound of the Longhairs. I noticed that the guys were even using Vox speakers. And of course they dressed up, changing costumes throughout the show to represent the different eras of Beatles music. We had a silly fun time, and left very full and singing Beatles songs.

And that was the end! The end of our time in Manhattan. It was a fun, full week of things we had been wanting to do, and it was so fun to share all of it with Mike. Next time we go, we are going to be Brooklynites, because there are tons of Brooklyn things that we want to do. We also enjoyed our time on Long Island very much (look, I have learned: ON Long Island), and I deeply regret that I didn’t get a picture of Mike with Mary Ann, his second mom, who couldn’t have been more welcoming or friendly. The only time I had ever met her was the weekend of our wedding, so it was nice to spend time with her and hear her stories and eat her meatballs (DELICIOUS). And we ate cannolli and we grilled out (I had her saying “grilling” by the end of the weekend) and we had pizza from Mike’s favorite Holbrook place.

Our last morning in Manhattan, Mike and I saw a newscast that was talking about whether couples can spend too much time together. We looked at each other kind of shifty eyed and then decided to watch the report, which said the usual things about communication and making sure each person has the down time that he or she needs. We have spent an unprecedented amount of time together this summer, and I was a little nervous about it, but we have each had our outlets, so I’d have to say that overall? It’s been awesome. And our vacation was a great example of that.

When Mike and I decided to go to New York for our vacation-slash-anniversary, we made lists of the things we wanted to do. I have been to New York more than Mike has, so I had done some of the things that he wanted to do. And, as expected, many of the things on my lists came from books. But we managed to come up with some ideas, and Mike made a great spreadsheet for us. And then he had to take his computer in to be fixed. And we didn’t have a copy of the spreadsheet. So we had to recreate it from memory. We forgot a few things. But we did our best.

Our first night in New York, Mike and I took the subway out to Brooklyn to attend the free New York Philharmonic concert at Prospect Park. The people at our hotel acted as if we were going to the moon. Brooklyn, did you say? I am not exactly sure how you would get there from here. So we figured it out on our own, thankyouverymuch. We had dinner at Dizzy’s, which was the first place we found to eat. Since we weren’t coming from our house, we didn’t have a blanket. Note to self: At outdoor concerts, offer to share your blanket with poor souls who forgot theirs. We still had a lovely time: the music was beautiful, and it was our anniversary eve and the city obliged with fireworks for us at the end of the concert. It did feel a bit like everyone knew each other and we had happened upon a giant get-together we hadn’t actually been invited to, but it managed to have Mike scheming ways for us to move to Brooklyn. He clearly forgot that we just bought a house. That still needs some work. Either that or he was trying to push me over the edge. We were able to vote for our choice for the encore by texting, so Mike explained texting to the wonderful Brooklyn grandmothers sitting behind us. The best part of the whole thing is that one of the Brooklyn grandmothers behind us got “discovered” that night. Someone from some kind of modeling agency said they wanted her for an ad. They told us they were legit as if it was going to make some kind of difference to her, so apparently they thought we were related. We gave our permission and then blatantly eavesdropped on the conversation. It was hilarious to hear the ladies talk about it after the modeling agency person had left: the newly discovered grandma promised not to forget her friends after she became famous. She said she’d text them.

On our actual anniversary, we hiked up to Central Park so that I could finally see the zoo (Kari’s list). On the way, we passed the library (Kari’s list) so that I could visit the lions, walked through the set-up for the All-Star parade, and saw the Plaza.

Also, we got a little lost in the park, but finally, we got to see the penguins. The penguins, you guys! I am not sure I have ever actually seen penguins before. They were adorable with their rock-hopping and their swimming. Mike took about one billion photos of them, which you can see on our Flickr page. We also saw some polar bears, the Delacorte clock (Kari’s list), and then headed back to the hotel so that Mike could have a nap before going to dinner. Dinner was at Sangria 46, a tapas restaurant (yes, yes, go ahead and make your jokes about how we went to a topless restaurant for our anniversary). We had early reservations before the show, so we had the restaurant all to ourselves. We ate at weird times all week long. But it was nice to pretend that Mike had reserved the entire restaurant for us for our anniversary. Like Benny and Jack in Circle of Friends.

We had bacon wrapped shrimp, stuffed mushrooms, lamb, and vegetables. I insisted on some vegetables. Oh, and sangria. Of course. It was all really great. It was also very close to a restaurant my aunt used to take me, Joe Allen. We did not make it back to Joe Allen to see if the burgers were as good as I remembered.

We saw Spring Awakening (Mike’s list: Broadway show; Kari’s list: Spring Awakening), which I had heard a lot about, and I enjoyed it, though it felt a little overwrought, like some young adult novels feel. One thing I had heard was that it was good for people who work with teenagers, and I would agree with that, because it captured that feeling of being a teenager, of having the world in front of you and being very confused about it all, and of running up against authority. It’s good to be reminded of what teens are going through. I think my expectations were a little bit too high at the time, but now I look back and think, “That was pretty awesome.” I would like to get the soundtrack at some point.

Wednesday we only had one thing on our agenda: LETTERMAN. (This is not actually true, because first we went to Ground Zero – Mike’s list - so we could see what things look like down there, and then we began our love affair with Pret a Manger. But it sounds good to be that passionate, right? LETTERMAN! WOOO! The thing is, usually we are too old and tired to stay up that late anymore. Our Letterman fandom is actually more in the past.) The week before we left, we got the call that we had scored the tickets.

This was something that Mike had always wanted to do (and thus, Mike’s list), and it was really fun to see all the energy that Dave had during commercial breaks. I will have to say that it wasn’t Dave’s best show ever (the next night seemed a little bit more loose), but it was still very cool to actually be there. Dave! Paul! Biiiiiiiiiff! (And Mike was happy to catch a glimpse of Stephanie.) We were in the balcony on the side and thus never actually on camera. I just checked the TiVoed episode to see. You will just have to believe that we were there without any actual evidence. Sorry.

Between the time we had to show up to pick up our tickets and the time that we actually had to be there for the taping, we went to Lindy’s so that Mike could have some cheesecake (Mike’s list: He’s a big Guys and Dolls fan, and he wanted some Mindy’s/Lindy’s). That night, we ate at the restaurant across the street from our hotel, The Crooked Knife. Mike had shepherd’s pie for the first time, so I suppose you could say that was from his list. His life list. There was a man at the next table who was obviously a regular there, and he told us that he works for the Miss America pageant (or maybe a different one, but it was one of the big ones) and asked me how I keep my hair so healthy looking. He said he wished all of his girls had hair like mine. If he was pulling my leg, I just don’t care. Between him and the Brooklyn grandmothers (who called me “gorgeous”), New York was good for my self esteem. But, anyway. The Crooked Knife. We liked the food here, and we really liked the walk home. Why couldn’t everything be across the street?

Next up: dinosaurs, cathedrals, puppets, and The Beatles!

Here is a special Wednesday edition of Farmer’s Market Finds! They are open on Wednesdays during the summer. And, hoo boy, the Farmer’s Market is in its prime right now. Look at all the colors. My mom would be so proud. (She loves food with color.)

(Also, look at our old countertops there. Because those suckers are on their way out.)

I didn’t actually go to the Farmer’s Market this morning. Mike went by himself. When I go by myself, I come back with three things. When he goes alone, he comes back with a veritable feast. Here are our totals: three tomatoes, two bunches of basil (of course), and two yellow zucchini for $6.25. Two peaches for $.95. One ear of corn (I don’t like corn) for $.50. One head of cabbage for $.65. And he splurged on a red pepper for $2.00. Total for today: $10.35.

(I went by my school yesterday to do some things, and a few people were like, “Hey, I saw you in the paper. Did you get your basil like you wanted?” Heeeee.)

On Sunday night, Mike and I watched Little Manhattan with his second mom and another one of her “sons” she’s taken in. (She is a very loving person. As I am sure you can tell.) Mike had very specific requirements about watching a movie with his second mom: he wanted it to be clean/family-friendly, he wanted it to be about New York, and he wanted it to be something he had already been wanting to see. Miraculously, such a movie existed. Little Manhattan is the story of ten-and-three-quarters year old Gabe, who loves eleven-year-old Rosemary. I don’t tend to have a lot of patience for children’s movies, but this one was so sweet that I couldn’t help myself. Gabe’s parents, played by Cynthia Nixon and Bradley Whitford, also had a poignant story, and we enjoyed seeing all the places we had just been walking around. If you are in the mood for something sweet and clean, give this a try. Warning: there is a lot of puking in the beginning. Apparently love makes you puke. If you’re ten.

When we got home Monday night, we watched Lars and the Real Girl, which we have both been wanting to see for quite a while. This is the story of Lars, played by Ryan Gosling, who is a nice guy, but who can’t really engage with the people around him. He purchases a doll on the internet. You know the kind of doll I mean. Her name is Bianca, and he introduces her to everyone as his girlfriend. As you can imagine, this alarms his family and friends. I expected to like it, but I did not expect to love it as much as I did. The secret is that this movie isn’t really as silly as it sounds, nor is it anything like what it sounds like when I say, “A lonely guy bought a sex doll on the internet.” Instead it’s a beautiful story of the community around Lars and how much they love him and how it changes them all. I cried. A lot. This one didn’t get a lot of publicity when it came out, and it’s kind of hard to explain, but it really is as wonderful as everyone keeps saying.

Amelia Atwater-Rhodes is an author of fantasy and young adult novels, and her books are popular with some of the students at my school, so when Random House asked me to be part of her blog tour, I happily agreed. She will be posting here on August 7th, but for now, you can read more about her on the rest of her blog tour, which started today!

July 22nd: Bildungsroman
July 24th: Cheryl Rainfield
July 25th: BookLoons
July 28th: Mrs. Magoo Reads
July 30th: Teen Book Review
July 31st: Making Stuff Up for a Living
August 4th: Bookwyrm Chrysalis
August 5th: The Reading Zone

Mike and I are on Long Island today. (I wrote “in Long Island” and Mike, the Long Islander, corrected me. I am from the South. I don’t know how to speak here.) We had a great week in Manhattan, which I will tell you about later. It involved a lot of food. And making decisions about food. And planning where we would eat our next meals. We take food very seriously. Which is okay, because we walked approximately 3,000 miles while we were in Manhattan. I wore flip flops one day. When we got back to our hotel, the bottoms of my feet were black. That is a true (and gross) story. I stuck to the Chucks after that. Even when I was wearing shorts. I did not, however, allow Mike to take any pictures of the Chucks/shorts combo. That I know of. I have not yet reviewed the pictures. If there are any, you will not get to see them. Sorry. It was not my best look. I don’t need to be made to look any shorter than I already am.

For the weekend, we went to Long Island, where Mike grew up. We stayed at his “second Mom’s” house and I got to see where he grew up and meet some of his old friends. We get to see where I grew up all the time, since my mom still lives there. We are surrounded by people who know my growing up stories. But Mike doesn’t really have that, and I think both of us miss it sometimes.

When Mike graduated, our pastor said something to his sister about the courage that it takes to reinvent yourself, and how he admires Mike for that. I thought about that this weekend, how different Mike’s life is now than it was twenty years ago when his family left Long Island, ten years ago when we were meeting, five years ago when he was starting to plan to go back to school. But he’s also the same person who lived on Long Island, walked to the grocery store for candy bars, ate pizza at Mamma Lombardi’s. We reinvent ourselves, but the past is still there, too, part of who we are. I enjoyed being introduced to the Long Island part of Mike. Even if everyone made fun of the fact that I say “grilling” instead of “barbecuing.” (Barbecue is a noun, okay? It is a specific food.)

Dear Jeff,

Mike and I observed you purchasing burgers for your office Thursday at The Burger Joint, home of New York City’s best burgers (according to some polls, and also according to us). Jeff, had you been to The Burger Joint before? Because one or two things you said made it sound like you had, but you seemed to be very confused about the protocol. I don’t know how to say this nicely, Jeff, but you were pissing off everyone who worked there. Did you really think it was necessary to ask for a receipt seven times? I am a little bit concerned for you, Jeff. Have you ever watched the show The Office? Because I am going to be honest with you, Jeff, you were acting more than a little bit like Ryan Howard. And by that I mean: jacked up on drugs. Jeff, sweetie, no matter how many times you say “To Go,” you are going to have to bag your own food. Mike and I were able to figure that out. Surely you can, too.

After observing you for a few minutes, Mike and I had conflicting ideas about you. He couldn’t believe the office would send someone as incompetent/drug addled as you to order food. I, however, felt as if they probably couldn’t stand to be around you one minute more, and that it was probably worth having their food order messed up just to be able to get away from you.

Mike conceded the point.

Jeff, Mike and I wish you the best and thank you for giving us something to discuss as we hiked through Central Park on such a hot day. But, Jeff, I say this with great concern and compassion: You need to get some help, man.

At one point Mike thought I was going to punch you in the face,
Kari

This is our stove. To be more accurate, it is a microwave/stove combo. I bet you didn’t know they made microwave/stove combos like this back in the day, did you? Well, neither did we.

It has its charms, to be sure. Those dials on the bottom of the microwave panel, they control the burners, and when you turn them on, they are red instead of black. You might think that this would help you remember to turn the burners off, but you’d be wrong. I am bad about leaving burners on as it is, but even Mike has forgotten these burners because they are in such an awkward forgettable place.

The buttons at the very bottom of the microwave panel are extremely special. One of them turns on the light at the back of the burners. That’s right, our burners are backlit when we so choose. It is an awesome fluorescent light. I can sense your jealousy.

Though the microwave looks like a huge beast, do not be fooled. It’s actually quite small. It just has an enormous door. Do not ask why. This stove/microwave combo is not to be understood. It is only to be looked at reverently.

No, seriously, be really careful if you are trying to cook anything. That front left burner - it looks normal, but it boils things, even on low.

I bought this card at a shop with Alisa and Susan and Brandi a few years ago, and I found it when I was cleaning out my side table when we moved. I’ve had it sitting on my bedside table since then, reminding me to purchase a frame for it.

I like the sentiment - it challenges me because I don’t have that kind of faith. I don’t know if I trust in that sort of a world. But it’s exactly the kind of faith I want to have. It makes me want to believe.

My aunt gave us a new, extremely fluffy mattress pad. Let me remind you, we already have a mattress that is like sleeping on a hammock of clouds held up by angels. I was not completely sold on the idea of needing a new mattress pad. Because of the awesomeness of our mattress. The first night we slept on the mattress pad, I declared it to be like sleeping on giant bubble wrap. It was weird and awful and I hated it. But, you know, maybe it would grow on me. So we left it on the bed, just to try it for a few more nights. After about two weeks, I had managed to smush it down enough that it was softer and more pleasant, except for the giant ridge that fell exactly where I normally sleep. Not my favorite. Also, sometimes when I would sleep a little bit diagonally, my feet felt as if they were elevated above my head. Sometimes they were tingly when I would get up in the morning.

Mike, however, declared the new mattress pad to be like sleeping in a hammock of hammocks held up by clouds of angels. This is an exact quote. And so we were at an impasse. Except for the part where I basically did not sleep through the night one time after we put the mattress pad on the bed, and the part where Mike can basically sleep anywhere on anything. I get . . . how do you say . . . cranky when I do not sleep. Also, the new mattress pad hurt my back. And my feet were tingly. So we are back to the boring old non-bubble-wrap mattress pad. And I am much less cranky, thank you for asking.

But, you guys, the old mattress pad looked so awesome on the bed. It made it look all big and fluffy and kingly. If only there were fluffy mattress pads that actually allowed, you know, sleep. I would totally be in favor of that.

All kings, and all their favourites,
All glory of honours, beauties, wits,
The sun it self, which makes time, as they pass,
Is elder by a year now than it was
When thou and I first one another saw.
All other things to their destruction draw,
Only our love hath no decay;
This no to-morrow hath, nor yesterday;
Running it never runs from us away,
But truly keeps his first, last, everlasting day.

Two graves must hide thine and my corse;
If one might, death were no divorce.
Alas ! as well as other princes, we
—Who prince enough in one another be—
Must leave at last in death these eyes and ears,
Oft fed with true oaths, and with sweet salt tears;
But souls where nothing dwells but love
—All other thoughts being inmates—then shall prove
This or a love increasèd there above,
When bodies to their graves, souls from their graves remove.

And then we shall be throughly blest;
But now no more than all the rest.
Here upon earth we’re kings, and none but we
Can be such kings, nor of such subjects be.
Who is so safe as we? where none can do
Treason to us, except one of us two.
True and false fears let us refrain,
Let us love nobly, and live, and add again
Years and years unto years, till we attain
To write threescore; this is the second of our reign.

Happy Anniversary, Mike. Here’s to many more.

We’re leaving today for vacation, and we have managed to pack everything we (think we) need for a week into bags that can be carried on to the plane. I must confess that I have always been too chicken to attempt getting my liquids, gels, and aerosols on the aircraft, but a trip to Target has made me feel better. As Target often does.

This is a huge part of the reason I switched jobs, this whole getting to take real vacations thing. We will be happy to leave the house behind for a week and get away from all the work. Also, I feel like the neighbors have only seen me in painting clothes or jogging clothes, and I will be happy to wear real getting-out-of-the-house clothes for at least a week. I own real clothes, neighbors. I promise. In fact, I hardly ever wear clothes like the ones you keep seeing me in. Which is why you keep seeing the same ones.

I am taking three books on this trip: Saturday by Ian McEwan, Things Seen and Unseen: A Year Lived in Faith by Nora Gallagher (birthday present from my mom), and The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis. I have read The Great Divorce before, but I read most of it one summer in my car on breaks from my job (sound familiar?), and our pastor has been quoting from it a lot lately, so I have decided I want to revisit it.

Wish us luck at the airport. If you don’t hear from us again, our liquids, gels, and aerosols were probably not acceptable, and we might need you to send some help.

Mike got dressed for church this morning while I was still in the shower. I got out of the shower and got dressed in my favorite orange shirt. I then went into the kitchen and saw that, horror of horrors, Mike was wearing his orange polo. While some people think dressing alike is cute, I am opposed to it. I am not into cute. Except for tiny things. And babies. And Big Bunny, who is not tiny.

Mike’s argument was that he was doing sound this morning, so we wouldn’t be sitting together, so it was totally fine for us to wear the same color. This made sense, except for the part where we had to walk out together after the service and everyone we saw commented on our matchy cuteness. I thought it would be clever to tell people that since our anniversary is this week, we have to match all week long. The problem with this is that people already know that we are kind of strange, so they probably think it’s true.

(We’re so hardcore with the matchy, we even painted a room to match us.)

Mike and I felt a lot of pressure to go to the Farmer’s Market this morning. I mean, if we were featured in an article, we had better be there. Since we are going on vacation, we didn’t need very much, but . . . it seemed wrong not to go at all. And so here is our booty:

One yellow zucchini ($1.25, and the flavor on these is CRAZY GOOD - we had it grilled for dinner tonight), two bunches of basil ($1.00/each), one bag of beans ($2.00 - for dinner we roasted them in the oven in olive oil and spicy seasoning - kind of like green bean fries), and one basil plant ($5.00). Total for the week: $10.25. And also we get to keep our street cred. Added bonus for you: You can kind of see some of our kitchen in the background. Do not be alarmed. It will all look very different soon.

Above you can see the herbs Emily gave me for my birthday. Mike planted them, the basil, and some other herbs he bought at The Home Depot today while my mom, my aunt, and I worked on painting the trim in the sunroom. Three of the four walls are done, and . . . about a quarter of the final wall is done, too. Please don’t ask me why we aren’t finishing tonight. I just cannot get up on that ladder one more time. (Unexpected benefit of painting: I do not need a stairmaster.)

(I have been trying to blog every day . . . this is cutting it kind of close for me.)

Okay, Melissa, I am challenging you to get yourself in an article in the paper on yard sales. Because Mike and I are featured in an article about the Farmer’s Market this morning. Bring it!

I haven’t done a Big Bunny update in a while, but some people have asked how she survived the move. The answer to that is that she basically still thinks we are a bunch of idiots. Which is what she thinks all the time. So, essentially, nothing has changed.

Actually, the move from one house to another went more smoothly than when we moved her upstairs to the laundry room in the old house back in March (an Incident Of Which We Do Not Speak). We put her in her little travel carrier, which she hates, and got the cage into the pickup truck. I put the travel carrier into the floor of my car, cranked up the air, and spoke soothingly to her the whole way. This made no difference, because, as I mentioned, she thinks we are a bunch of idiots and also we had just put her in her travel carrier, making us unjust as well as stupid. She made scratchy protesting noises the whole way, which was good because it meant that I knew she hadn’t freaked out and had a bunny heart attack. Her feelings on our intelligence were confirmed when we unloaded the new cage, set it up exactly the same way, and put her in it. “Idiots,” she clearly thought. “Why put me through so much trauma just to put me right back in the same cage?”

We have been painting and moving furniture around in the sunroom, so we haven’t been able to let her out quite as much as she would like (she has made her feelings on that matter very clear), but she has enjoyed the room a lot. Now that the TV is hooked up, she likes to spread out in front of it (it’s definitely spreading out, because she is rather large) and listen to her shows. She thinks it’s totally unfair that we don’t let her operate the TiVo, though. (She ate some of the buttons off of the remote and lost her TiVo privileges.) When the work in the kitchen is done, we should be able to let her hop around the whole house a little bit more. Unfortunately, she had just gotten used to the idea of stairs, and she is going to think we are idiots for having everything on one floor. How will she get her stairmaster training in? (Did I mention that she is rather large?)

We have had Big Bunny for almost a year now, and for the most part she likes us a lot and will come when we call. She knows that she only gets food in her cage, so she runs there whenever she hears food, and she always goes back to her cage to take care of her business. Now if only we could be as intelligent as she deserves.

O Lord, mercifully receive the prayers of your servant who calls upon you, and grant that I may know and understand what things I ought to do, and that I also may have the grace and power faithfully to accomplish them; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen. -taken from The Divine Hours, Prayers for Summertime

My copy of The Divine Hours for summer got packed at the very end of May, so I didn’t have it until we unboxed the books last weekend. Meaning I missed all of June. Which was kind of a downward spiral for me with the class I was taking, the stress of things possibly falling apart with the house, the end of school, and, oh, yeah, packing. Now that I am able to sit on my couch and drink my coffee and read my prayers, I can see how it might have been a good thing for me to have that in my routine, to read those words and say those prayers with so many other people. To have something solid to stand on when I was floundering in my own lack of belief. Because those are big prayers. That up there? That’s a big prayer. That cuts to the heart of many of my prayers: What am I supposed to do? Why is it that particular thing? There are times when I know what I ought to do: I should forgive, because it is one of the cornerstones of my faith. I might even understand why I am supposed to forgive: Because I have been forgiven, and because it will actually make me feel better not to be carrying those things around. Just to name a few. But sometimes I don’t understand how it’s possible, and I think that’s the kind of understanding this prayer is crying out for. Help me know what to do. Help me understand how to do it.

It resonated particularly with me this morning, because last summer we had an unprecedented streak of days over 100 degrees, something I can never remember happening before. It was miserable and unbearable, but, caught up in my haze of summer discontent, I continued to go to my car every day at lunch and read. I would read the Midday Office in The Divine Hours, and I would read my novel. You can look at last year’s list to see which books were read in July and August and then imagine me sweating it out in my car. I parked in the shade, don’t worry. And I drank a lot of water.

I remember talking to Andrea on the phone one day, talking about how I was so desperate to have the summer off, but I didn’t know what to do. There were so many classes I needed to take, and I didn’t really know how to get in the school system. I don’t remember praying this prayer particularly, but I must have, this same week, last year. Mike and I want a different sort of life, one where we are closer to our friends and where we have more time to be together. I do not think I can work another summer without going completely stir-crazy. I know what we want, but I don’t know how to get there. Help.

And now, I sit in my new house, with five more weeks of summer vacation. I have felt for so long that everything was piling up around me and I could not relax. But I am beginning to feel that relaxation settle in, that the restlessness that prevailed last summer is finally dissipating. There are many areas of my life where I still don’t know what to do and how to do it. But I can look back over the past year and feel as if we were guided in each of those difficult steps: applying for a new job, taking the new job, taking classes, putting our house on the market, and, finally, moving. I know that this prayer isn’t just about me and my own life, but also about God’s greater work in the world and how we can participate in it. But those are the things that were on my heart last summer, and (most of the time) I believe the things that are on my heart are part of the things that God cares about. I was lonely and restless, I believe, because he created me to be in community and to want to have time to spend with my friends and family. I can breathe deeply now, in a way I haven’t in a long time, because I have that time to rest, because Mike and I have time to work on our house and go on vacation. Because I have friends within walking distance (and one whose place of employment can be seen from my sunroom). Because I can see my mother and my brother more often. Because I was given the grace to take the next step. Because I can sit here in my sunroom with my coffee and feel as if many of my desperate prayers from the past few years have been answered.

It has felt a bit like we are just playing house here at the new place. There is still so much to do, and there are still so many things in boxes (though those boxes are now conveniently stored in the extra bedrooms, which means that things at least appear much less cluttered). The kitchen, which is arguably the center of our home, can’t really be unpacked (and we are going to have to spend several weeks “camping out” without a proper one as the new one gets installed). But I think the real reason this house doesn’t yet feel like home is that I never really said goodbye to the old place. I had planned to go back with Mike and help clean, but at the time, it was deemed more prudent for me to stay here and start digging out. I thought it wouldn’t matter, that I had said my goodbyes back in March, and I had, to some extent. But yesterday afternoon I realized that it felt like a relationship that petered out without any closure. The last time I saw the house, I was driving away with a load of boxes in the back of the pickup truck I was driving, and I thought I would be returning. Though I was unbearably ready to move by the time we actually got to do so, I loved that house with its bright kitchen, its enormous bathrooms, and its happy memories. I hate to see our relationship end on such a nonexistent note. I am sure I will think of it from time to time and remember how things were when we had planned to stay there rather than those last few months when I felt trapped in a house that was so far from where I wanted to be.

I have friendships like that, too, friendships that ended on a less-than-positive note, and some that just faded away. I still think about some of those people from time to time, still wonder exactly what happened and how it could have been fixed. I used to write about it a lot, those broken friendships and my desire for closure. And I have learned, a bit, over the past few years, to think of things as they were before our relationships went sour for whatever reason. For a long time, I could only focus on how things went wrong in the end, not the parts where we loved each other and shared life together. I have also learned to see the crashing and burning as an opportunity to meet new people, to continue to grow. I was given the opportunity to redefine myself, to challenge my ideas of who I was and what I was about. I see the value of long-term friendships, certainly, but I also see how they can develop unhealthy patterns, not allowing one another to change. The breaking of some of those friendships forced me out of some of my patterns, and now, on the other side of all that pain, I am thankful for it.

Mike and I have seen this move as another chance to redefine ourselves and what we are about. That meant leaving things behind that we liked very much about our old town: the library where everyone knew my name, the hardly-ever-crowded Wal-Mart, the house we had chosen and decorated (and rehabilitated after the flood). I think a lot, maybe too much, about what I value and how I might live in line with those values, and I think that what we have chosen is in line with the things we claim to value. As I get used to all this change, I know we will come to love this house and what it says about us just as I love my new friends and what they have taught me. But the old friends, the old house, will have a place in my heart, too. For the first time, I can sort of see how that is done.

A lot of people have asked me what we did for my birthday. We went out with my family to my favorite restaurant, which was lovely. This year’s birthday celebrations have been low-key, no question, especially compared to past years. We’ve had a lot going on. But we did do something else that day, something wonderful: We unpacked the majority of our books! The big shelves in our front room have our books on them! Which I can read! Whenever I want!

I have noticed that when I tell people this, they get this sort of knowing look, like they finally understand once and for all that I am nothing but a nerd. But I am too busy basking in the glow of my books to care. (And, really, shouldn’t they have figured this out before now?)

Melissa likes to tell you about all the rules she has for yard sales and all the deals she finds on Saturday mornings. Well, I am usually out and about on Saturday mornings, but it’s not at yard sales. It’s at the Farmer’s Market. So here is my answer to Melissa’s posts: Kari’s Farmer’s Market Finds, An Occasional Series. My posts will deal with vegetables rather than clothes or furniture or grills or whatever. I can’t really fathom the things she finds. She has magical yard sale skills. This one time at a yard sale I saw a picture frame that was really beat up. And also a weird shelf to hang on the wall. I did not buy either of them.

This was a slow week, because the Farmer’s Market is also open on Wednesdays during the summer, and we bought some fruit on Wednesday and also some yellow zucchinis and also tomatoes. In fact, for dinner last night, we had a meal that consisted entirely of Farmer’s Market food: lima beans, grilled yellow zucchini, and sliced tomato. But I still needed to go on Saturday and get my whole wheat organic pita from Zaytoon ($2.00 - we eat a lot of hummus, and this is the best pita ever. Mike even made pita chips on July 4th to go with the black bean hummus/dip he made). I also got two bunches of onions ($1.50/each) and two green peppers ($.75/each). Total for this week? $6.50.

(Just so you know, I didn’t use the flash in that picture. We have a small skylight in our kitchen, and the food was basically right under it when I took the picture. That is why it looks so bright.)

Speaking of the fruit that I purchased, there is a pie in the oven right now! I got up and made a pie. Mike came into the kitchen and I was rolling out pie crust. I did this instead of going running, which was probably not the smartest move I have ever made. Speaking of the oven, I will have to show you our oven/microwave combo sometime. You will be amazed at its 1970s glory. And you will understand why we have already purchased another one to replace it.

We have been using white vinegar as a cleaner the past few months. Mike asked if I would consider using a more natural fabric softener, so I tried it there and thought it was fine. Then I started using it to mop the floors. And clean the sink. And the tub. It’s all-purpose! One bottle to clean everything!

Obviously, when we were going to take down wallpaper and I saw that vinegar could be used to help get rid of the glue, I thought, “Hey, we have plenty of that around here!” It seemed to work pretty well, I thought, with the added bonus that everything smelled so fresh and clean in the hall where we were working. When I expressed that thought, that love of the clean fresh smell, my aunt said, “I think it smells like pickles.”

Which . . . is a drawback I hadn’t really considered.

Mike and I could have stayed home last night when we realized that the fireworks would, in fact, be taking place despite the thunderstorm that passed over Greensboro around 9:00. But that is not how fireworks work in this house, so we headed back out with our umbrellas and our camping chairs and our flashlight to our secret fireworks watching spot in order to get our fix for the year. Sure, there are fireworks every weekend at the baseball games, but it’s not the same as sitting in an undisclosed location and watching a fireworks show.

And, I know I joke about the fireworks being for me, but it is part of the tradition, those fireworks that usher in my birthday. They make me feel like a kid, with the noise and the wonder of it all, bringing back all those memories of sticky, humid nights waiting by the car to see the explosions in the sky. They remind me of my dad, who helped us shoot bottle rockets and bought us sparklers. It’s just not summer without them.

Today we celebrate America’s Independence. Or the Eve of My Birthday. It just depends on who you are. Mike celebrated this morning by putting on the one, the only, the flag bandana. We miss you, Scott.

We also celebrated by spending over three hours at Lowe’s this morning. Our cabinets have been ordered, but I think several years were also taken off my life. Holy Moses. We are very thankful to have new cabinets on order, but, for one thing, all the little charges for extra things make me feel like I am being scammed. And for another thing, no one should have to spend over three hours in Lowe’s, what with the constant beeping and the customers needing assistance in the glass cutting area. I requested silence on the way home.

Now we are about to head to a cookout, and then, of course, fireworks, Gandalf! Happy 4th of July or Happy Independence Day, whichever you prefer. Or, you know, Happy Birthday Eve to me.

1. A washing machine that works. I have spared you the saga of the washing machine, but let’s just say that the one that was here was installed improperly. After trying several things, the team composed of me, Mike, and my brother finally managed to diagnose the complete problem and the two of them fixed it yesterday. It now sounds like a normal washing machine rather than a freight train. Also, I feel comfortable hanging pictures on the wall, which I didn’t when it was rattling about.

2. Wallpaper when it is no longer on the wall. Our hall looks so much better. As my mom said yesterday, “Wallpaper is evil.” The actual paper came off in nice big strips, but we had to do some soaking/scraping on the glue. We primed the walls last night and might actually get a coat of paint on today before . . .

3. Going to see Bloody Blackbeard at Triad Stage tonight. We’re looking forward to it!

4. Family to help with projects. My brother worked several times on the washing machine, my mom has been a champion painter and wallpaper-taker-downer, and my aunt came and helped with wallpaper yesterday as well. I don’t know what we would have done without their help this week. They have gone way above and beyond the call of duty. Or . . . blood. Whatever, you know what I mean. We can probably never repay them.

5. Friends who help you, too. Our friends who have helped us move and paint have also gone way above and beyond. And we are really thankful for them.

6. Running in my new neighborhood. Sweet, blessed trees. I can run later than I used to be able to, just because of the trees keeping it so cool. Also, there are many different roads to explore rather than the one route I ran for years at the old house. Also also, if I want to, I can run to Emily’s house and make her give me coffee. Because I am very demanding like that. (I ran in her cul-de-sac this morning but did not stop. hee hee hee.)

7. Getting to hear Mike’s radio show. Local readers, this summer Mike has a radio show on WQFS on Wednesday nights from 10:00-12:00. In the past, I have never gotten to hear it live, because I always had to work on Thursdays and also WQFS does not broadcast quite as far away as we used to live. But now we live five minutes from the station, and I listened last night as I was cleaning up from the great wallpaper tearing down party. He played about four songs in a row for me.

8. The brick wall. Okay, so, our sunroom was kind of a disaster when we bought the house. It was added on to the back of the house, which was very obvious by the walls. Three of the walls were dark paneling, and the other wall was brick. Not nice brick, but “this wall used to be the outside of the house” brick. I don’t understand why anyone would think any of that was fun or nice, but, you know, okay. Mike was skeptical about painting the brick, but I wore him down, and I think he is happy with it now. Andrea spent an afternoon priming it with me, and then my mom and I spent a day painting it and basically making it look awesome. We also painted the paneling, and it looks nice, too, but I am just so proud of my brick wall. The room is so much warmer. Next week we are going to work on trim in that room, but at least the walls are done, glory hallelujah.

While not the actual brick wall, this is what the brick wall looked like (and, thus, the brick on the outside of our house).

And here is a shot of what it looks like now. Please ignore the fact that we haven’t painted the window white yet. And thus there is some touching up to do there. The color, in case you were wondering, is Bronze Tone by Benjamin Moore.

9. Even though I have been busy moving, my friends and family have not forgotten that it is my Birthday Week. And I love them for that. I was kind of afraid my Birthday Week would have to go uncelebrated this year, but, nay! Celebrations will still be taking place. This one’s kind of important, too. My last year in my 20s. (Next year I will be celebrating the first anniversary of my 29th birthd