Matrimonio Italiano...Bellissimo!

 She was Cinderella, riding side saddle, behind her two most handsome nephews, gentlemen perched atop their own strong horses.  Her toes dangled and her veil swayed with the horse's gait.  They rounded the corner and the people who loved them most were already on their feet.

The curls atop the flower girl's head were in perfect arrangement and her smile was sparkling almost as clearly as the tears in the father of the bride's eyes.  Sister took the petite hand of niece turned garden fairy as they led the parade of ginger steps down the aisle, followed by nephews, clad in matching linen Armani tunics, and then the Princess herself on the arm of Daddy.

The Italian ceremony was long, so bride and groom sat in chairs as their most beloved friends and family spoke, prayed, sung and recited.  The children's choir was especially sweet, but the groom may have been most moved when the bride surprised him with her own solo.  A translator leaned forward in her chair, her Southern Italian waves brushing the shoulders of the Americans in front of her, her Southern Italian accent brushing their ears.

I ran around in the grass, sidestepping the zanzare as they bit my bare legs.  Great candids are easier to come by with four photographers.  Let's hope this works...

With little fanfare the bride and groom were ushered to Grazano Visconti, a medieval village, to be their own Romeo and Juliet.  Poses atop stairs and behind ivy, stealing kisses with the intent to be caught by a point and click.  The guests were glad we weren't gone long because the first course was elegant cold cut rosettes and savory pastries, as decadent as the wedding cake itself.  This was followed by the most delicious pasta dressed as candy: ricotta pillows in striped noodles, twisted at each end.

The wine must have cost more than my own wedding dress, it was that delicious, and the meat, I'm told, was to die for.  The spumoni cleared our palettes and our minds, ready for more.  It was now around 5:00 and we had been celebrating since 9:30 am. But when the torta came, we could have stayed all night long.  Espresso send us home heady and teary eyed; excited at a new start, overwhelmed with love, and ready for our beds.

It was a magical day to be sure.
I could do it all over again tomorrow.
All 10 hours of it.

Ahhh, amore. Auguri, Paola e Antonio.

Oh, By The Way...

I forgot to tell you.
Guess what I did!
This summer I got to run two half marathons and I want to tell you about them.

The first one was, at first glance, a bust.  After only 1.5 miles I conked out.  I got too excited and messed up my pre-run routine, and started out too fast.  Going up a little hill, my friends took off.  My mentor/coach/Mr. Miagi stayed with me and never left, but I was so upset about doing poorly and not keeping up.  Finally she told me to get over it, and I wouldn't have wanted them to stay with me and wait anyway.  I knew she was right, but I still couldn't enjoy my run.

My Mr. Miagi, Sheri

I started to get all philosophical and began to think about how I've also felt left behind by friends who have all gone on and started families, even though I started the race before many of them.  It was an emotionally exhausting run, as well as a physical one, but I don't think it was as much of a failure and here's why:

My mentor helped me realize that I wouldn't want anyone to wait to start families as I wouldn't want these girls to slow down, and neither did the race end at the finish line.  I didn't stop running, and I've only gotten better.  I've gotten healthier and even ran another half marathon since then.  And this is life too; we are all called upon to exercise our endurance at many different times, and we are all forced to run.  But how we react and become stronger from these events is where the true success lies.

So my excitement at their finish on race day is just as genuine as my excitement when dear friends and family announce pregnancies and have baby showers.  There is nothing that will ever keep me from sharing in their celebration, and knowing that their victory is also my victory.  The God that is writing their story is my God too, and I love that he works in the people I love.

This first race was the Laguna Hills Memorial Day Half, and the second was the Freedom Half in Salt Lake City on Independence Day, which I ran during my recent vacation there.

Night and Day.

It was me, running it myself.  No comparison, only enjoying the ride.  Much of it was downhill, and I had no goals but to enjoy it.  I finished 8 minutes faster than the other one, and I had a blast.  My family was so supportive, and my dad even came out and met me at mile 10 on his bike and rode with me for a while.

I've been reading Ryan Hall's Running With Joy, and I finally got it this time.  This is my run, I am not running it in competition with anyone, this is my story and I'm running it at my own pace, my best pace I can.  I love that I have companions to pull me along and encourage me to do better, but ultimately, this race is my own and no one else's.

I have learned so much about life from running, and I have so much more to learn, in both areas.  But one thing is for sure: I am hooked.  And now, I am training for a full marathon in Long Beach this fall.  I can't wait.

Family Legacy

I have so many talented people in my family, and collecting all their wonders caused me to realize anew that I had no choice but to follow in their footsteps.  

This little baby doll was my own, made by my mama and I just love that expression.  The screenprint behind her matted locks was recently created by my fabulous cousin and I still haven't figured out how to use or display it.  Any ideas?

Helen Dardik is ridiculously talented, and her work is just adorable.  It wasn't until after I purchased her print on the right that I realized the darling child in the painting was a girl.  So I decided to paint my own rendition, using some of her other sweet originals as inspiration and concocted the little watercolor cowboy on the left...just in case the wee one we get is a boy, not a girl.  Now we have both bases covered.

My husband's great aunt passed down these embroidered and appliqued throws and they couldn't be more dear to me.  I can't wait to supplement them with a quilt from my amazing mother-in-law.

 So many handmade treasures here!  My little sister made the hugging kitties on the left, an illustration of our sisterly love...they even wear our initials on their tummies.  The teddy bear in the middle is one of the many bears my grandma made and nicknamed "Sheddy Bears," as my mom called them, not being able to say her own name, Shelley, as a little one.  And the pink guy is a Popple; my own from the 80s.  Anyone remember those?  You can also see the zig zag blanket I crocheted.

 What is this edging called, like little lace?  These are two pillow cases great aunt made, hanging on the antique dresser a friend bought us.  And the alligator up top is a pencil holder my grandpa made for all of the cousins when we were little.  He sits by a needle punch I made a few years ago; and YES, those are cloth diapers below!

I saved some of my own Golden Books, my first Bible and my mom's copy of Alice in Wonderland, with some other collected classics from over the years.  And there's no way my Strawberry-mobile couldn't make an appearance, however temporary.

Although this pint-sized room is filling up quickly, I know it will be full to the brim one day with all the practicalities and preciousness of all things child.  For those of you in this boat, how do you keep from busting at the seams?

Zigzag

I have a memory of being around 7 or 8 and lying on our brown, high pile carpet in West Palm Beach, Florida. Next to me was my older brother, and over us was our Mom's zigzag crochet blanket, just wide enough and long enough for 2 snuggled kids.  All twenty of our toes had found adjacent holes to poke through, just like piglets lined up for dinner.

I asked my mom why the brown and orange striped blanket had holes in it (that seemed like the opposite thing to have in a blanket) and she told me that it was an afghan; she had crocheted it years before, and it was all made from just one strand of yarn!  Maybe she'd teach me someday, she said.

On a winter trip home around 10 years ago, Mom taught me.  I made all kinds of wonky scarves for friends that year, but I was hooked.  Thanks goodness for gracious friends.  Luckily, things have gotten a bit straighter.

I love these things that tie us to our families, things that make us like our mothers.  I found my inspiration for our new nursery and the first thing I thought to make for it, and the little one that will someday fill it, was a zigzag afghan, just like the one my mom made so many years ago.

So as the rain pattered our skylight this weekend and I nursed an 8-mile-run racked calf muscle,  I sunk into the couch, tucked up my toes underneath me (just the way Mom does) and started in.  I can't wait until it all comes together, and I promise I'll share with you then too.

Do you remember having one of these afghans in your home when you were young?  What do you have that ties you to your family?

More Mailbox Love

I received the most wonderful thing in the mail this weekend.  It was from my sweet cousin, who not only has a heart as big as a river is wide, but who also has an eye for design anyone would envy.  When she puts the two together, this is what happens, and when I am the recipient I am so overwhelmed with gratitude that I must share it with all of you.

You may recognize the honeycomb screen print from here.  I'm drooling!  I can't believe I own this!  In it was wrapped the most rapturously delicious tea from Townshend's Tea in Portland.  I even let a friend take a whiff of my Rooibos Cinnnamon Spice at craft night this weekend and she immediately went home and ordered seven (7!!) different blends of chai tea for only $2.50 each.

Antique Bee Pin also from Cecily last year.  I love her thoughtful heart.

I opened every tiny gift as if it were Christmas, savoring each item...I even took it back into a corner of my bedroom to unwrap just so I could do it as slowly as I wanted.  An eclectic group of little tags and bakers twine greeted me cheerily, as did the delightfully simple necklace that was attached to the ribbon.  Of course I put it on right away and haven't taken it off.

For the loose leaf tea, she was thoughtful enough to include a precious little ceramic cup with an infuser tucked inside, and let me be honest, I'm drinking it again right now.

Honey Dipper and hand thrown honey jar from Arts Fair in SLC, sent by my parents several years ago.

This is a wonderful way to start off a week.  I am blessed beyond words.  We have remarked to each other many times how lucky we are to have such a bond as cousins.  We thought it was normal. 

So, I'm interested, who in your life do you feel blessed to be bonded to, cousin or otherwise?

Oh, Honey

I always preferred a Peanut Butter and Honey sandwich over PB&J.
My uncle's family started Miller's Honey.  When I was little, my aunt would mail my mom a tub of Whipped Cinnamon Honey, sometimes even the stuff with a bit of the comb still in it.

I've never been afraid of bees, and I suppose their stings don't affect me as much as the average Jill.

Honeycomb screenprint by amazing artist, Cecily Sakrison

I think this all set me up for a love of bees.  A few years ago when I learned about the severity of hive collapse I called my cousin to see how easy it would be to raise a hive.  We decided it was more work than I could afford, but the dream is still there.  Maybe one day I'll get to raise some, and then I'll surely be consulting this great resource (with a lovely cover design...yes, I judge a book by its cover sometimes).

And how about this sister title on Canning and Preserving...that's a one day endeavor too.

For now, I'll have to settle for a bee hotel like this one and try to passively help the bee population in my neighborhood.  Before I do this, I'll have to take our neighbors into account, as we don't have much property, and I don't want to put anyone with allergies or real aversions at risk.

A New Feather

In college, years ago, I took a graphic design class.  I bought a laptop, and that magical package: Photoshop/Illustrator.  The computer was old and the programs were so large they caused the computer to crash.  Off to the Mac Doc my laptop went, but she was not healthy enough to sustain such a large file again.

Thus, my newly acquired muscles atrophied and my skills were lost.  Well, went underground.  Until now. 

Last year, I reclaimed what was lost, and have slowly been making progress.  I still love a piece of rough hewn, cold press, crisp white piece of Arches watercolor paper with a gorgeous deckled edge, but I don't mind a mouse and a computer screen as much as I once did.

There's nothing that breeds production like necessity, and I, as head artistic coordinator in our Women's Ministries at church, was recently called on to create a new logo for our Spiritual Day Spa (a great event where, among other things, I get to lead an Art Therapy class...another hidden talent).

I took a cue (and I'd love to take a class) from this amazing instructor, and I don't mind the result.  I'll be proud to have this logo be atop any letterhead or brochure, but I still have so much more to learn.

What skill would you like to learn?  Is there something you don't do well, and would like to do more?  Why not start?!  It's still only January...you still have all of 2011 ahead of you!  Start something creative today, I dare you!

A Full Retrospective

 

Goodbye 2010.  You were a very full year.  Full of love and romance,

God provided for us, in His timing, a new house to call our own,

And to fill to the brim with sunshine, love, and too much stuff.

Lots of crafts were made...paper, stitched, crocheted.  Too many to count, in fact.

While we weren't yet blessed with little chicks of our own, we've cuddled many a good substitute.

Spring brought a new song to our hearts, full of optimism and merry-making.

Being back in Oceanside to stay meant we could act like tourists in our own town.

Arts and culture were sandwiched in between good restaurants and the good ole Coastal Lifestyle we love.

July meant discovering Portland, and rediscovering most beloved family.

August was filled with too-short days of foreign-family visits. (Seriously, too short...always is.)

I spent our summer (and our money) decorating our bedroom and I quite like the results!

Not nearly enough time was spent painting.  Lilly and I were both a bit exhausted from other responsibilities.

School means back to the grind...where even parties are work.

This girl had a milestone birthday, ushered in with a non-surprise party which ended in smiles and rollerskates.

The year ended with my first ever Christmas Eve dinner hostessing.  (It was a smash hit.)

Bumps and Boos

Lots of babies and new life. I'm so proud of these mamas.
My sweet cousin in law in Portland is really starting to show a bit of a belly at 16 weeks!

This dear friend in Sweden posts weekly pics and has titled the documentation as "From Poppyseed to Watermelon."

And yesterday little Katherine Ryan arrived, ready to play with her big sister, wrap around Daddy's finger, and snuggle for ever with her lovely mama, my college roommate, Kelli.

Ladies: My heart is so full with excitement as I get to share in your victories; your difficult ones and those of a few more who have yet to announce their own accomplishments.

I hope this is encouraging to those of us who are waiting for a Stork-y visit of our own, and may I share my new outlook:

The fact that this can happen is celebration for me too;

I get to share in your victory because

the GOD that has done this is MY GOD too!

PS: not sure whyblogger isn't letting me format my paragraph...sorry for the difficult read

Daddy's Girl

I paint like my mom.

My dad does numbers. I do NOT do numbers.

But apparently, he and I go to the same hair stylist.
Not sure how that works since we live hundreds of miles apart.

Cousins' Dinner

*Sigh.*

The summer is coming to a close for Jon and I. We go back to work on Monday. But we couldn't feel more blessed, more filled up by the abundance of friends we've shared time with this summer. So many dinners, shows, visitors, vacations, barbeques, bike rides, and even mentoring have filled up our hearts like too-full summer picnic baskets.
One of the many joys is the bringing together of friends, like our cousins: Jon's cousin and mine both live with their husbands in Portland, only minutes from each other and never really knew it. During our visit we forced friendship upon them and hope they don't have too much fun up there without us.

When was the last time you got together with friends? What's your favorite thing to do? For us, it's EATING. Out or in, we'll take either.

Simple Thing

We've all heard it said that it's the simple things in life that really count. But only if we take the time so appreciate them.


Mom called this week while I was looking at recipes to make some freezer jam and she said, "No, don't do that! It's time you inherited my canner and made some real jam!"

That immediately reminded me of the narrow pantry of my childhood, filled with Ball jars that sparkled with shimmery peaches, homemade applesauce, and spicy grape jelly. Mom learned to can from her mom who had the very best pantry, which was perfect for one chair that held a little girl and all her imagination. I used to sit in there when I just wanted to smell the canned goodness, make up songs or plays, or listen to Bobby McFerrin on my walkman.


Grandpa had a cherry tree over his workshop out back, and us cousins would climb up and pick cherries all day while the adults would cheer us on, pointing out the biggest clumps. Mom and Grandma canned those too.


One summer, Mom and I picked peas from Grandma's garden. Now, I hated peas, I still do. I think it's because mom served them, from a frozen bag, almost every night. But there's something about sweet fresh peas from the garden, warm in the morning sun, like candy in your mouth, that can turn a girl to a pea-lover in no time.

I don't have a garden yet, nor a cherry tree (my lemon tree looks promising, though), but as far as appreciating the simple things, the sparkling golden sun from our sky light on my very own hardwood floors really just sent me over the edge today, so I thought I'd share.

That's my simple thing. What's yours?

Salt and Pepper

I'm off to Portland to visit this ridiculously talented and amazing young thing I get to call cousin. Actually, I call her Cecily. Well, actually, I call her "Pepper", because I'm "Salt." She's the brunette and I'm the blonde.

She's always been my partner in both crime and creativity. Countless hours have been invested with her in perfecting the arts of swinging, writing advertisement jingles, girl scouting, doll and jewelry making, entrepreneurial endeavors, traveling, hiking, bell ringing, and play writing. But that's just skimming the surface.

Now I'm off to her place, along with the husbie's cousin, who is also an angel sent from heaven (whose childhood experience with her cousin was not quite as girl-scouty as ours were). PDX, here we come!

Grandma's where we get our talent. This painting was of us and my brother in about 1984.

Down The Rabbit Hole

Little brother and I are exited for it. We made our own Wonderland this winter.

Can't wait. March 5.

New Edition

Meet Milo.

The newest edition to the family.

One day we're going to get a real kid.

Winter Citrus Salad with Endive and Red Onion

Here's what my fabulous Aunt Zaurie made.

She is famous for her cooking.
And here's my version of it. I prefer the watercolor version of things.