Wedding Bells and Belles

My good friend Tonia got married this weekend.

You can check out her awesome blog on greenin' up your life here.

She was pretty much my third sister growing up, so both of my sisters and I got to be in her wedding! It was so fun to be bridesmaids together, though we couldn't help continually cracking this joke:

"Oh my gosh! I can't believe we showed up in the same dress! How embarrassing!"

And then laughing like ninnies.

It was an amazing, beautiful wedding, and one we'll never forget. Here are some of the photos from the big shindig:

My awesome cake-making sister Caroline made them a Packers vs. Vikings cake. Tonia (the Packers fan) fed Mike a Packers piece and Mike (the Vikings fan) fed Tonia a Vikings piece. That's true love, that is.

Almost all of the decorations were handmade, green, and gorgeous.

Aleah was adorable and hilarious, as usual...

We danced and danced, but stopped long enough for a few photos. We don't look this good that often!

I hear that this is called "photo diving." I call it super fun!

Thanks for the party, Tonia and Mike! Many, many, many blessings on your marriage as you begin this wonderful journey together.

Where AM I?

Daryl and I ran all of those annoying new-to-the-area errands yesterday. He changed our insurance from NJ to TN. We got new driver's licenses. We sat in some traffic (yeah, still figuring out when and where rush hour occurs in these here parts).

We were surprised to find out that the place where you get your new driver's license (the "Department of Safety," which, from the name, I would assume is where they inspect restaurants for health violations, but apparently is not) is not where you can also get new license plates for your car. So we headed out with our new DLs in hand to get our plates changed.

This particular office closed at 5pm. We arrived at 4:54pm and the line was halfway down the hall. This wasn't going to happen, but we decided to wait in line anyway. Just in case.

At 5pm a woman came out from behind the desk with a stack of labels in her hand. She handed each of us in the line one label and said, "We'll take all of you, but you're the last ones. If anyone comes after you, tell them to come back on Monday."

Daryl and I were flabbergasted. They were staying open late... for us? It was 5:03 on a FRIDAY. Why...?

We happily waited in line, and made it to the front around 5:20. The woman behind the desk filled out the necessary forms while chatting pleasantly with us both.

"Why do you stay open late?" we asked.

"What do you mean?" she said.

"Well... we were halfway down the hall, and it's after five."

"We wouldn't want you to have to come back on Monday!" she said, surprised.

"This wouldn't happen in New Jersey," I said.

"Really? Well whyever not?" she asked.

Just then there was a knock on the office door. The woman went to it, ready to explain to the would-be customer that they were now closed. It turned out to be the first customer of the day, who had returned at the day's end holding a box of cheesecake. 

"This is for you," she said to the woman. "I work at the Cheesecake Factory around the corner, and you mentioned that strawberry is your favorite."

By now my jaw was hanging open and Daryl's eyes were wide. The woman said goodbye, took her cheesecake, and returned to help us.

"That was so nice," she said. "I mentioned that I like cheesecake, so she brought me some! Isn't that sweet?"

Where am I living? Places stay open a few moments just to "be nice," and customers at the DMV return with large boxes of cheesecake just to "be nice." I'm 98% sure that if we had looked longingly enough at that cheesecake the woman would have sent us home with half of it.

Gosh, this place is nice.

Am I Ready for This?

There are many updates to be made on this wonderful summer I've had. Daryl and I have traveled to Duluth, Minnesota; Bayfield, Wisconsin, Chicago; and various parts of Michigan. We've visited with friends and hung out for a week with my entire extended family on my dad's side. More than all of that, we've been at my childhood home with my parents, sisters, brother-in-law, and niece for enough time that none of us were counting down the days we had left.

It's been wonderful.

There will be many pictures to come, but until I get those loaded,  I have some other news to share...

We move to Nashville in just three days! For the first time in our lives (minus the year Daryl had in Nashville, but we're counting this year as our first "official" stay) we will be southerners. We will be Nashville-ites. We will brave the crazy humidity and the boisterous thunderstorms (and the occasional giant spider) and move into our first real grown-up home. Prior to this we've been either in an apartment or in college/seminary housing. This is the first place we've really chosen as adults. It has a WASHER and DRYER. We are going to get some patio furniture! It's going to be wonderful.

I checked the weather for the next ten days, just to see what our move-in would look like:

Friday: 96 degrees, thunderstorms

Saturday: 93 degrees, thunderstorms

Sunday: 90, thunderstorms

Monday: 90, thunderstorms

Tuesday: 89, thunderstorms

Wednesday: 89, thunderstorms

Thursday: 87, thunderstorms

Friday: 89, thunderstorms

On the upside, it does look to be cooling off a bit...

I am 100% excited, but I'm also wondering, am I ready for this part of the country? That's some weather there, folks! Eep...

"Who's On First": Nashville Edition

First things first: we are moving into a townhouse/duplex. We'd been calling it a condo until someone corrected us. Condos are to apartments what townhouses are to... well, houses, I guess. Our new place is definitely more house-like, and only shares a building with one other unit. Apparently that's not a condo. Don't ask me, I grew up in the forest.

We're safely back in Wisconsin now, after a 17-hour drive home from Nashville. Is it supposed to take that long? No. Contributing factors? Big accident in Indiana. White Sox fans. Mostly White Sox fans. Still, we made it back, and all is well.

To further remind us that we had, indeed, made the right decision in where to rent, I have to recount one other apartment-agent interaction we had while in Nashville. Daryl still chuckles when I mention this one...

So we were looking at a few apartment complexes. We left early to visit each one, but this particular one was off of Old Hickory. If you know Nashville, you know that Old Hickory winds around the city in about five different directions. It's easy to get lost on Old Hickory, which we promptly did. So I called the apartment offices for directions.

Them: "Hello, _____ apartments."

Me: "Hi, my name is Courtney and I'm scheduled to look at apartments in about half an hour. Can you give me directions to the complex?"

Them: "Well, who did you book your appointment with?"

Me: (Fumbling through my notebook for a second). "Um... I don't really know."

Them: "I just need the name of the person."

Me: "Right, well, I don't know that. I didn't write it down. I've booked a lot of appointments during the last few days."

Them: "Do you know who the appointment is with?"

Me: "I'm sorry, I don't. I just need directions, though. I don't need to tell you who I booked an appointment with to get directions, do I? We won't be late, we just aren't sure how to find you guys."

Them: "Just go south on 65."

(I should mention now that 65 goes north all the way through Indiana and south far beyond Nashville).

Me: "South on... but I haven't told you where I am yet. Don't you need to know that?"

Them: "We're pretty much right off of 65."

Me: "But... that doesn't make any sense if you don't know where I am right now. I'm down by Brentwood." (Brentwood is about ten minutes south of Nashville)

Them: "Right. Go south."

Me: "But then I'm going to end up in Georgia!"

Them: "Just go south on 65."

Me: "Okay. Do you know what? I'd just like to cancel my appointment."

Them: "Who was it with?"

Siiiiigh...

Apartment Hunting: Round 3

I suppose it is misleading to label this series "Apartment Hunting" because, as we soon discovered, we do not want to live in an apartment. After visiting only one we became immediately irritated with the whole mass-marketed apartment world.

"Come! Rent our place!" they scream. "We have amenities like pool parties that you will never go to and free popcorn from six days ago!" And then, when you need something fixed, they hassle you. Also, they keep the garbage dumpster far, far away from where you live so that you get to take your trash for a car ride. Fun.

So after our very first apartment glance, we changed course. We wanted a house. A home. A place that felt like maybe we were grown-ups and not just displaced college students.

The problem there was that homes are pricey. Way over our budget, for the most part. Enter townhouse/condo/duplex. Ah, this was good. The personable nature of a house with a smaller price tag because of one shared wall. Perfect.

So we looked some more today.

First we saw a run down duplex that had five of these living next door:

But it's cool, right? Because the yard was separated from the duplex's yard by a shoddy fence. And pit bulls are friendly, right? I mean, they love people so much that sometimes they eat them.

Next we saw a cute-and-affordable-but-kind-of-far-away-and-in-a-sketch-neighborhood place. We fell in love with the landlord here (around our age, a former Christian college student, offered to put in lots of sweet amenities for not much money), but the distance and neighborhood were too much for us. Also, it was right across the road from a BP refinery. Lots of issues with that one. Like, I like to breathe air. And not have cancer.

Throughout the day we were waiting for K, our potential landlady, to call us. She was offering our dream townhouse to the first folks who viewed it. If they didn't want it, it as ours. So we waited, nervously, while looking at other potential options. I had a hard time sleeping last night because I was so anxious. What if someone else took it first? What if it fell through? What if she decided that she didn't want to rent to us for some bizarre reason? What if she suddenly changed her mind about allowing cats?

So we continued our just-in-case tour. We saw a cute house and called to see how much it was renting for. The number was over twice our budget. Eep. You could buy a house for that much in some places in Wisconsin.

We waited. We were nervous. We waited.

Then, she called.

"I haven't heard from the first folks," she said. "If you want it, it's yours."

We told her we were getting in the car with our checkbook.

And we signed a lease.

I was a silly disorganized person and forgot the camera when we toured it, so there are no photos (yet). Tomorrow we head back to Wisconsin.

So, beginning in August we are now living 1.5 miles from Vanderbilt, a couple of miles from the hospital where I'll be twice a week, and only 20 minutes from my place of work the rest of the week. We are one mile from Daryl's favorite coffee shop and my favorite resale shop. We are less than a mile from my two favorite gluten-free restaurants. We are just over a mile away from some friends (hi, M and P!) who moved downtown last week. We are in a safe neighborhood that's still close to the city. We have a yard. We are a hundred million times excited.

We have a fireplace. We have a washer and dryer. We have a garage. We have two stories. 

Also, we have a guest room. So come visit.

And we are very, very happy.

Apartment Hunting: Round 2

Today was a better day. No broken-down car, no side-of-the-interstate, and (perhaps most importantly), no venomous insects. Today went as follows:

1. Drove the drive from Place #1 (hardwood living room pictured below) to Daryl's school and my work to see how long it would take. Were hoping for 30 minutes or under. It clocked in at 40-45. Boo. Still, love the place and are thinking it might be home.

2. Visited a really, really awful place. Quoth the landlord's lackey: "Yeah, if you see any pests, that's probably, you know, your fault, and you should call the pest control guy and pay him yourselves." Ooookay...

3. Stumbled upon an amazing house within two miles of Daryl's school. Called the landlady, who came by a little bit later. Saw it. Loved it. Are waiting to hear back from the landlady tomorrow to see if the people who visited just before us want it. If not, this is home. Praying for this to be home. So close to everything! In a great neighborhood! No pet deposit! Love it, love it, love it... We'll know by 4pm tomorrow if it is ours.

4. Visited a condo previously rented by Vanderbilt basketball players. It. Was. Gross. Also, overpriced. When we got back in the car Daryl whispered, "Did you see the facial hair in the sinks? GROSS!" I won't even tell you about the carpets. Also, a keg in the backyard. Classy, kids.

5. Called up two more spots to see tomorrow in the early morning. Two more duplexes close to Vandy and within our budget. One looks kinda ugly, one looks kinda cute. We're giving both a chance.

We're feeling good. It's been a long few days (and we're a bit slap happy at this point), but we're feeling good. We've stayed with some dear, wonderful friends, and that has helped. Those friends are gf-folks, so they even made us a totally safe (and completely amazing) dinner. What a luxury to just sit and eat and not have to ask a million questions. So. Good. Plus, through the ups and downs of finding a new home, Daryl and I have been together through it all (even on the side of the interstate!), and that has helped. We stumbled upon a really amazing resale shop and I got brand new jeans for super cheap. In a couple of long, crazy days, a pair of new jeans certainly doesn't hurt.

So, for you praying folks, pray that the other couple who saw the house we love (did I mention that we love it?!?) turn it down and that it can be ours. Oh please...

Apartment Hunting: Round 1

Daryl and I are down in Nashville apartment hunting. It's been an eventful trip, to say the least.

First, it looked a lot like this:

Sorry to gross you out. It grossed ME out. No, we will not be renting an apartment from you when your MODEL UNIT has a GIANT POISONOUS SPIDER CRAWLING ACROSS THE KITCHEN FLOOR. Seriously, folks. Don't you spray that particular unit for pests like five times a day? Eesh. No THANK you.

Then, it looked a lot like this:

Yes, our car had a bit of a meltdown. On the Interstate. So we pulled over to figure out why it was shaking and smoking. And we stood and waited for Triple A for about an hour in the 99-degree heat. Yes, I am now sunburned.

Then we had the car fixed at a Goodyear with wonderfully nice southern dudes who fixed it in a couple of hours (turned out it needed new brakes and some part had come loose - hence the shaking and smoking). Our wonderful friend H brought us her car so we could continue the house hunt...

Luckily, from here the day began looking up.

It looked like this:

Hello cute wood floors and lots of sunlight! It also has a big yard and three (three!) bedrooms. And lots of storage. At this place we arrived before the landlord and the tenant (who is an incredible photographer) invited us in and gave us the scoop: It's a great place to live. This one is top of our list right now. It's a bit far away, so we're driving from it to my place of work this morning to see how long it takes. Pray for around half an hour or less...

Then it looked like this:

Why yes, that IS a piece of gf-tiramisu! We stopped by Fiddlecakes in Nashville and had a gf sandwich (a SANDWICH!) and tiramisu. Definitely made the broken down car seem less important. Sigh. So good. So, so good... I haven't had tiramisu in over a year.

After that, it looked like this:

Hello charming little kitchen! This place was adorable but very tiny... Like, almost studio-apartment-in-NYC tiny. But very adorable... So we're still thinking about it, to see if it's possible for us. It's also super close to school for Daryl. But did I mention that it's tiny?

On the list for today:

1. Our car not breaking down.
2. A townhome in West Nashville.
3. A 2-bedroom in Hillsboro.
4. Driving around Green Hills and Sylvan Park to see if there's anything cute up for rent.

I'll keep you posted...

Apartment Hunting

Daryl and I are in search of a new home. One that is not in New Jersey (woot!). One that is close both to his school and to the hospital where I'll be working.

I have an utter love/hate relationship with apartment/house hunting.

One the one hand, I love it. It's exciting to dream and explore, to decide what is most important to us for the next phase of life, to plan on making a home home. I get excited about how we'll arrange things, what spots the cats will find in which to snuggle up, what our view will look like.

One the other hand, it can be very discouraging. I found one apartment complex I loved (seemingly safe, affordable, close to what we need it to be close to, with nice floor plans) and then read some reviews.

"I loved living here, until the shooting."

Eep.

Others warn of brown recluse infestations. Um, excuse me? If I see one poisonous spider, we are moving OUT. Is that just an innocent northern thing to say? (Probably).

Another review of a hopeful place: "Live here if you love mold!"

Yuck.

As two-former (and one current) grad. students, we don't have an unlimited budget, which, of course, limits us from just plunking down our Black AmEx card at the Grand Hotel and asking for room service. We don't need anything fancy, just a place to call home. Preferably one where we can paint the walls and decorate it to look like home (and not like an institution, as our previous white-walled seminary apartment could look at times). I would also like to do laundry in my own apartment, not in a mold-infested basement as I have been doing for the past three years. When Daryl and I moved out in May most of the stuff in our basement storage unit was moldy and needed to be thrown in the trash. And I did my laundry down there for three years. SO gross. Though I may be willing to budge on having our own washer and dryer and just use a community laundry room if it is not infested with mold. Maybe.

One of the trickiest parts of this process is that we're up in Wisconsin right now, hanging with family, so we can't easily drive by and check places out. We're planning a foray down to Nash-Vegas in a couple of weeks to see places in person, though. That seems to be the only way to know for sure if a place is truly livable.

Top three things I want in an apartment or rental home?

1. Safety. I want to be able to walk from the car to the apartment at midnight without looking over my shoulder and/or running.
2. A guest room for friends.
3. No poisonous insects/spiders/pests. I don't mind the occasional bout of ants or ladybugs (I grew up in the woods!), but I draw the line at things that could actually make me, my dear husband, or one of my cats lose an appendage and/or die.

Daryl's top three:

1. Light. Lots and lots of light. (He's from California. He can't help himself.)
2. Something newer or cute and vintage.
3. Something affordable so that we can pay off loans/save some money.

Any other things we should put on at the top of our lists? Anyone have a beautiful, new, insect-free, place we should take a look at, or an apartment complex in Nashville that they've loved? Class? Class? Bueller?

Vay-Cay-Shun

 My parents took Daryl and I on a celebratory graduation and marriage reunion cruise to Mexico this May. After final exams and being apart for so, so, so long, this was the perfect present. Sleeping, eating, relaxing by the pool, reading novels, exploring Mexico - it rocked.

Because I have to eat GF, vacations can be stressful. Eating at a new non gf-savvy restaurant takes a lot of work. A LOT (inform the waiter of my issues, quiz him/her about the menu, ask again when the food arrives, and about half the time, get sick anyway...). Often it isn't restful or enjoyable at all, and I'll just sip a Coke while everyone else eats and then snack on my gf granola bars or bag of trail mix after dinner. Many areas have few (if any) restaurants that understand gluten free cooking or the dangers of cross-contamination. From a dietary standpoint, this cruise was amazing. I ordered my dinner the night before so that it could be made gf, and they cooked me special desserts on nights when everything else had gluten. Two words: strawberry pavlova. Oh. My. Goodness.

If you are a gf-er, THIS IS YOUR VACATION. Explain your food issues to your travel agent and call the cruise line in advance. Then tell your waiter and assistant waiter about your gf-status. Then sit back and eat. And eat. And eat. And feel normal like you haven't since your diagnosis. And be happy. Oh so happy.

For all other reasons (relaxing, vacationing, enjoying time together, and getting a little bit tan), it was also amazing. I had a ridiculously good time. Where else can you lie in the sun all day, get dressed up and eat a fancy dinner, and then see a show all without your wallet in hand? Our boat even had a climbing wall (which I beat Daryl up in a climbing race, I must tell you) and an ice skating rink. Ridiculous.

Parts of it were hilariously campy (i.e. the cruise director: "Are you having a good time? Are you? Huh? I can't hear you!" and the awful band by the main pool playing calypso music on a Casio keyboard...), parts were much classier than expected (who knew the ice skaters in the show would be able to do triple jumps?), and all of it was fun. Daryl had just as much fun as I did, enjoying a dodge ball tournament (crew vs. passengers!), lots of reading in the sun, and the unlimited frozen yogurt. He also found out early that there's no extra charge for additional dinner entrees. Enter steak and lobster and chicken night. Free room service for breakfast didn't hurt his affection for this vacation, either. Good thing he has a fast metabolism...

 My parents (thank you!) were paying for this vay-cay (I need not remind you of our grad-student status), but even they kept commenting that it was an amazing value. The only way you can turn a cruise into a crazy-expensive time is to frequent either the bar or the casino regularly. Otherwise it is a seriously good deal. We can't wait to go on another one, and are already talking about what we want to save for in the future... Perhaps Alaska? Anyone want to come with us?

The Finish Line

On May 3, I gave my final exams at Rider. On May 4, I graded them. On May 5, I flew to Nashville from Princeton for the final time. It was the final plane ride back to my husband after being away from him for the past nine months. It didn't come a moment too soon. I felt like I was limping in, like Dr. House after a long night on the hospital floor. Something like that.

Daryl met me at the airport with a huge hug. The last week of our long-distance marriage hadn't been too kind to him, either--in the middle of his final exams his computer crashed and he, the king of backing up files, had neglected to  back up one particular paper that he then had to rewrite from scratch. Have you heard utter despair over the phone before? I sure did, the morning that paper got eaten... Poor boy. We practically collapsed into each other's arms in the terminal.

"This has been the hardest year of my life," I said. I'm prone to large amounts of exaggeration and apocryphal storytelling, but this was the utter truth. "This has been the hardest month of that year. And this has been the hardest week of that month."

He held me for a moment, rubbed my back in that wonderful lower-back region that makes me curl up like a happy cat, then said, "Let's go get breakfast." (Yet another thing I love about him: he understands that, while food doesn't solve problems, it does help take the edge off of them...)

So we did. There was no grand celebration yet. No fireworks or large, extravagant gifts given to one another in honor of the occasion (hey, we're grad students...). There was no award from the Mayor of Marriages in honor of our survival. There was just him and me and the knowledge that we never, EVER had to do this again. We ate a leisurely breakfast of fruit and juice and then got down to the next business: packing.

We had a deadline in SoCal. My parents (thank you, thank you, thank you!), knowing how tired we would be at the end of this season, booked a cruise vacation for the four of us leaving from Los Angeles on May 9. We needed to return my friend's car to her in Monterey, CA. So after breakfast we hurriedly packed up Daryl's life from the last year in order to began the 42-hour drive from Nashville to Los Angeles via Monterey.

Daryl is, shall we say, a contemplative packer. He muses about where each item should go, thinks about each book or piece of clothing, and generally drives me (and eventually himself) crazy. So he ran the errands and I did the packing. I am speedy-packer-girl. I also have no problem throwing things - this pair of tennis shoes from high school, a shirt with holes in it, a book with serious water damage - away. That helps. So I packed. And packed. And packed and packed and packed. And we headed off for our first night's hotel (St. Louis, about 6 hours away) around 6:30pm. Ah well, it was a start.

It seemed fitting somehow to end this marathon of a season with a long drive across the country. We've done more of these than most people in the past five years of dating and marriage. Daryl dropped me off at my magazine internship in Colorado right after our undergraduate graduation. We drove to Princeton to move in. We drove to Los Angeles and back for a summer internship. And this season we ended our long separation by driving to California to see a dear friend and then get on a cruise boat. It's pretty easy to do that much driving if you know food, sun, and a pool lounge chair await you. And if you're just so overjoyed at the presence of the man you love that you'd happily drive forever if it meant it was just you and him and nothing more.

Speaking of road trips: I never know what to post on Facebook or not. I like to share what I'm up to, but sometimes it gets me in trouble. People find out I've been in town and feel hurt I didn't call or visit, even though I was only there for a day (or a few hours!). I thank people in a status only to forget one or two important ones (hurt feelings! so bad!). I overshare without meaning to, or update when I'm in a grumpy mood and sound too harsh and unpastoral. They're' tricky nowadays, these Internets.

Anyway, on our drive across the country I updated where we were every night, to keep people (including my parents) posted on our driving progress and because it's fun to update Facebook from cities across the country. Also, hooray! I wasn't in New Jersey anymore!

Because my family of friends (my fremly, as my sister Caroline calls her own) is so dear, thoughtful, and wonderful, almost everywhere I stopped I had people commenting and asking why we didn't stay with them/their family. For free! They'd feed us! Why not?

Kind gestures, to be sure, but hey: I had just lived apart from my husband for nine months. We were getting a hotel room, gosh darn it. 'Nuff said.

And so we drove. And drove and drove.

We saw this (yes, at night - no, not with the cool moon shining through it):

And lots and lots (too much!) of this:

And this strange addition to the Utah salt flats:

Daryl and his friends Chris and Steven have a special name for this piece of art, but it isn't particularly blog-appropriate. You can ask any of them yourself, if you want.

But mostly, I saw this:

Boy, was it a sight for sore eyes...

Gratitude

I'm back! As promised! Welcome to June, friends.

I have lots of updates to... update. Taking finals, vacation, moving, driving across the country, graduation, saying goodbye, starting a new chapter of life, leaving NJ (!), moving back in with my husband permanently, heading to Wisconsin for the summer. Before I get into all that (which I will, soon!), I wanted to begin with what has been at the forefront of my mind for the past month: gratitude.

This has been a crazy-difficult season of life. From being apart from Daryl to finishing my degree in Princeton to working to moving, Daryl and I have both been quite exhausted. During our most recent long drive (24 hours from Princeton to Eagle River, WI), we talked about what has gotten us through this season. People. Our dear, dear family and friends who have sacrificed, loved on us, cared for us, and blessed us. Without them, we would have probably fallen to pieces at some juncture along this long, long road. What am I grateful for at the end of this month of May?

1. A family who loves me and often knows what Daryl and I need before we ask. My parents took us on the most restful vacation of my life (a cruise! to Mexico! with special gf food!), and then came back to Princeton where my Dad and Daryl proceeded to carry every heavy thing from our apartment into the moving POD. And then they filled up our fridge. And then they let us come to WI for a couple of months to have a real summer of lake-swimming, grilling out, and craft projects. Does life get better? I submit that it does not!

2. Friends who sheltered Daryl for the past nine months. How do you thank people who you'd never even met before this August who invite your husband into their home for the year? And cook him dinner when he's losing his mind during final exams? And become dear friends? You can't... There's no language of thanks big enough for that.

3. A friend who loaned us her car for the year. Her fun, practical, cool, sunroof-equipped car. We didn't have to buy or rent a second car (read: crazy expensive for cash-strapped graduate students!). Again, how do you begin to thank someone for this?

4. Friends from Princeton. Saying goodbye was hard. These friends have brought us food and smoothies, provided incredible and insightful conversation partners, challenged us to live out our faith, and helped us with the little finishing touches of moving (Daryl carried out our last three heavy pieces of furniture assisted by three different friends, all of whom dropped everything the moment they heard we needed a bit of heavy lifting help).

5. Friends from home. It feels so good to be headed toward a summer surrounded by friends (and family!) from home. We never have enough time to visit, catch up, celebrate, and hang out. And perhaps this summer we will. Or at least, we'll have a little bit more.

6. Friends and family from CA. When we were in town we stayed with some dear, dear friends and their cute little chinchilla, Rudy. We made it to the Mother's Day celebration brunch for Daryl's dear grandma and saw almost all of the rest of his family. We had a great dinner with his mom. We visited some other dear friends, even though we were only in town for a short while. We went to Disneyland for free. You really can't beat that.

6. The little things. My final trip to the dentist in NY yielded no cavities. (If you know me well you know that's actually more of a BIG thing than a little thing). Disneyland makes gluten-free EVERYTHING for the same price as the normal stuff. I won an unexpected award at Princeton that led to a surprising check from the seminary that helped us a great deal with our move. I finally got around to getting a Princeton Public Library card and loaded up with books on tape for our long drive. Iron Man 2 was better than expected. The cats stayed healthy. There happened to be a yard sale the same day I realized we had left my old bike out of our POD (and the POD was picked up!), so I sold it for $30 in less than an hour. The little things have been so wonderful.

7. Our great God. I've said this before, but in one of her books Anne Lamott comments that her two most often-used prayers are "Help me, help me, help me" and "Thank you, thank you, thank you." I have said both of these many, many, MANY times in the past month. And Jesus is always there. And when I don't have an ounce left of strength, he provides. And when I'm at the end of my rope, he helps me hang on. And when finals threaten to make me go crazy or the distance from Daryl threatened to make me fall apart, he cared for me. The toughest seasons are often the ones of closest fellowship with the Father, and I've felt that this season. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

More to come (including LOTS of photos)! Thanks for your patience with me this May. There is lots of blogging to come this summer.

Happy June 1. Happy summer. Happy end to a season of running, running, running. As I write this the breeze off of Yellow Birch Lake is coming in my window, ruffling my hair. The cats are sitting on the window ledge watching the trees. Daryl is upstairs eating cereal and I am just about to head to breakfast. It's 10am.

Summer rocks.

Countdown to Leaving Seminary... Top Ten Favorite Memories: 4

7. Trips to New York City.

I hate New York City. I really do. It's loud and expensive, and though it's only about an hour away, by the time I get there I'm always tired and nearly ready to go home. That doesn't make me sound very cool, I know. The truth is that I'm not, nor will I ever be, cool. So if you were thinking you were reading a cool person's blog, you should probably go elsewhere. Like to Unhappy Hipsters dot com.

Regardless of my inherent dislike for the city of yellow cabs, I've had some very memorable and hilarious experiences in NYC. For example:

The time my sister Caitlyn and I got stuck on a broken subway and then hopelessly lost, after which we speed-walked through Chinatown at dusk and ended up in a really creepy neighbrorhood. One of the highlights of this visit was the crusty old man we passed on our fast walk who was standing at the doorway of a dimly lit alley "store" with a handpainted sign reading "STUFF." When we hurried past him he started cursing loudly at us for not wanting to check out the merchandise. Eep.

The time I was riding the subway with my parents and telling them about this Mariachi band I encountered on the subway months earlier, and just as I mentioned it the SAME Mariachi band came into our subway car (I recognized the lead dude's crazy mustache). What are the odds?

The time Cait and I ran into Jude Law and she chased him down the sidewalk in her sundress and Chacos while holding a leaky jar of pesto sauce from the farmer's market in a bag she sweet-talked out of a lady who worked at the Body Shop.

 The time I stumbled into the MTV music video awards and got some eye rolls from scantily clad teenage girls when I asked what was going on. See? I told you I wasn't cool.

The time Daryl and I walked with our friend Steven through Central Park right before Steven flew overseas to start his new job in Indonesia. We talked about giving up everything to follow the call of God to seminary or Indonesia. Then I ate a snow cone.

The time I went to NYC with my mom, Daryl, and my sister Caroline and it was so utterly freezing cold that we had to snuggle together at every possible opportunity.

The time my friend Katie talked me into seeing a Broadway show because hey, we're so close to NYC and we're both graduating, and even though neither one of us can really afford it, sometimes you just have to do these things. This last one is happening on Sunday. Yay!


Ah, NYC. I say I don't like you, but clearly I do... at least a little.

Reflections as I Plan to Live (Once Again) With My Husband: Part 4

You probably wouldn't expect that there would be a great deal of joy in spending nine months apart from the person you love most in the world. I certainly didn't.

But God surprises, sometimes.

When I flew home to Princeton after helping Daryl settle in to his new Nashvillian digs, I spent a couple hours crying. Then I spent a few thinking of how badly this was going to stink. Then I watched some television. It didn't help. Then I ate some ice cream. That didn't help either. Then I went to bed. When I woke up in the morning there was nothing left to do but pick myself up out of bed with a sigh and go to work. I tried not to notice the empty bookshelf. I shut the door to Daryl's side of the closet that was now empty. Ordinary life went on, even when the one I loved was a thousand miles away.

The joy in this year has constantly surprised me. It's been deep and incredible. It's been welcome and unexpected. It's been a sure companion, even amidst the pain of separation. A line from Marilynne Robinson's Gilead has stuck with me this year. I've quoted this novel in a previous post, but it is so apt I have to do it again. Her main character, John, is reflecting upon the death of his first wife and the decades between her death and his unexpected marriage to a new love:

"I do not remember grief and loneliness so much as I do peace and comfort--grief, but never without comfort; loneliness, but never without peace. Almost never."

There were times where I felt lonely without peace, but almost never. The missing ached, but there was still life in the living.

So, with joy, I'll end this series of reflections with nine joys I've experienced in the past nine months of living apart--far, far apart--from my dear husband. There were many, many more.

1. Reunions.
These were the best. Whether it'd been only two weeks or nearly a month, running into Daryl's arms in a Nashville or Philly (or Chicago or Denver, once) airport was amazing. We always tried to do our schoolwork ahead of time so that when we were reunited we would have two or three days together to just reconnect. We'd take walks, sleep in on Saturdays, go to church, cook leisurely dinners. After talking on the phone for weeks we were often talked out. We just wanted to be in the same room together, to tease the cats, to laugh, to hug. Each visit reconfirmed that our falling in love had been no accident.

Daryl developed a love for sneaking up behind me in airports and grabbing me in a big bear hug from behind. He's lucky my self-defense training is a little rusty, or he might have gotten an elbow to the stomach before I caught on...

2. Identity.
Prior to getting married in 2007 I understood myself pretty well as a single person. After getting married I learned to understand myself as a married person. Now I feel that I've begun to learn how to bridge these two worlds--to be independent but still part of a unit, to explore my interests but still care for my spouse. In my first couple years of marriage I had stopped doing various things I previously enjoyed (blogging being one of these) for lack of time and because learning to be married took time and energy.

I've recaptured something of myself this year. I've remembered who I am apart from "Courtney-and-Daryl." Now I look forward to remembering who I am within "Courtney-and-Daryl" in the coming months, and bringing the two together. I am both, and I love both.

3. Time.
Before I got married I hated the cliché that single people have "more time." "I'm a busy person!" I would say. "I don't have more time! I have little time! And it's precious time! So stop trying to get me to lead the youth group retreat/Bible study/school project because I'm the single one, okay?"

Well, it's true. Even though I've been working two part-time jobs while going to school this year, I find that I have a lot more time to devote to other things and people when I'm on my own. I've developed some wonderful friendships that I may not have had the opportunity to without these months on my own. I participated in the spring play and volunteered for some night on-call shifts at the hospital in Summit. I've read more, including more of my Bible. I've also watched more television than usual, but that wasn't a joy, it was a coping mechanism...

4. Being alone.
At my friend Bethany's wedding shower a couple of years ago, we were all asked to write down something she would gain and something she would lose when she got married. Her (hilarious) friend Alisha wrote: "You're losing the ability to ever sleep in a bed alone without people worrying about your marriage unless you're sick or in the hospital."

I didn't realize until this year on my own how much I really do enjoy being alone sometimes. During my first year of teaching I would come home plain talked-out. Daryl, who had spent his day working quietly in his cubicle, would be bubbling over with conversation. I simply wanted to eat dinner and not talk. On my own, I do lots of not talking. I've learned to embrace silence. Rather than racing to turn on music or the television when I get home, I love listening to the quiet for a little bit. The click of the cats' nails on the floor, the hum of the refrigerator, the thump-thump of a basketball near the hoops in my backyard. It is not, mostly, good to be alone. But sometimes, some hours of some days, it is.


5. Meeting Jesus in unexpected ways.
Back in mid-February I was sick. Sore throat, stuffy nose sick. No, it wasn't H1N1, but it was pretty miserable. I felt really alone. I had to drag myself to Whole Foods for Kleenex and cough drops and heat up my own chicken broth. When I'm sick I like to be fawned over. "What do you need? Oh... you poor dear." I love that stuff. But alas, I was alone, and Daryl could do little but empathize over the phone.

Enter my friend Brandi. She heard I was sick and knocked on the door with homemade soup and a warm loaf of gluten-free bread. "I heard you were sick," she said. "Is there anything else you need?" There were tears in my eyes as I hugged her goodbye. She had baked me bread.

There have been moments this year when I've been at the end of my rope. Sick, exhausted, or just lonely. And just when I've been at my lowest, Jesus has met me. Sometimes through his words in Scripture or in poetry. Sometimes in the soft fur of one of the cats (both of whom have a knack for knowing when something has made me sad). Often through people. I have been so incredibly blessed by the outpourings of love from friends and family. My sister Caitlyn visited me in September, and my parents have trekked out to Jersey twice (with a third visit just around the corner for graduation). Friends have schlepped me to and from the airport dozens of times without complaint. Friends have taken care of my cats when I've been away to see Daryl. Just tonight my friend Katie came over to study and brought strawberry-mango smoothie ingredients and a hug. "I read your blog," she said. "You said you needed hugs. So here is one." A few weeks ago my friend Inga made a trip down to see me for less than 24 hours when she returned from Iraq, just so we could have dinner together.

This is my Inga. She rocks.

6. This Tremendous Accomplishment.
I ran the Chicago marathon in 2002. To this day I'm not quite sure why I did it. I'm not really a runner or an adrenaline junkie, and I never did experience anything amounting to a "runner's high" (though I got plenty of "runner's side-stitch" and "runner's leg cramps"). I think the reason I did it was so that other things would seem easier. I would always have it to go back to for reassurance. "Of course I can write this paper! I ran a marathon!" "Certainly I can get through graduate school! I ran a marathon!" At the age of twenty, it helped me define myself as a strong person, someone able to persevere even when things were tough.

This is already how I think of this year in our marriage. If we did this, surely we can do anything. The same skills that helped us through a year of long-distance marriage--relying on the Lord, communicating well, making each other a priority--I hope will translate into the rest of our married life. And when we hit rough patches (as even the best marriages do), we will have this to hold onto and remember.

7. Moving on.
There is great joy in taking a new step. In a month I will be graduating. In a week my final papers will (Lord willing) be just a memory. Watching Daryl start his new PhD program and love it, moving toward my own graduation, and planning our new life in Nashville has been a joy. In many ways this is the first place we've chosen to live together, our first real grown-up place. When we were first married we lived in Chicago because that's where we had gone to school and that's where we had found our first jobs. After that we moved to Jersey because Princeton was the only seminary we wanted to attend.

Moving to Tennessee has been our first real grown-up "us" choice. We had the choice to stay in Jersey or, possibly, move to Chicago. We had the choice to say no to a PhD and move anywhere in the world.  So we prayed--together and separately. We sought the Lord's heart and our own. And with a bit of trepidation (we've never been southerners! we don't know anyone in Tennessee!), we chose Nashville and Vanderbilt. It was exciting to make the decision together, and it's been exciting to begin seeing it through. An adventure. Together.

8. Surprises
One of the things you lose after marriage is the ability to easily surprise the one you love. When you're living together and sharing a bank account, you have to be very crafty to create a surprise. Last year, a few weeks before Daryl's birthday, I told him not to check our bank statements. He does this pretty religiously to check our budget and guard against identity theft. Anyway, he remembered not to check it for about three days. Then he checked it. He came to me sheepishly, admitting that he now knew I'd been to Kenneth Cole... Grrr...

I love surprises. Love them, love them, love them. And it's been easier to create them (and to receive them!) being so far away. Just last weekend Daryl surprised me by taking me to the gluten-free bakery in Nashville. I still don't know Nashville very well, so by the time I realized we were on the other end of town--not headed home, as he had told me we were--we were practically at the bakery.

For Christmas I was able to plan a visit to a Laker's game in April. I was on the phone with my dad four or five times asking him questions about tickets (where should we sit? how far away was too far? is mid-court better than end-court?) while sitting in the living room - something I certainly could not have done with Daryl hanging around. 

Sometimes we surprise each other with love notes in the mail. Corny, I know, but I love those notes (ha! pun!) and have saved every single one.

9. The Pain of this Year.
How is pain a joy, you may ask? For this simple reason: it hurt to be away from Daryl. Sometimes to the point where it felt like actual physical pain. And each time it hurt, each time I hung up the phone with him and fell asleep alone, I was reminded of how blessed I am to have him. The missing has been painful, but it's been infinitely sweet as well. We have each other to miss. We've been faithful to one another in the missing. And with each painful day we came a day closer to being done.

I haven't had a baby yet, but people have told me that the only things that help you through the pain are knowing that the pain has an end, and knowing that you get a baby when you're done. There is no way around it - you must go through. And there is tremendous joy and accomplishment in getting through. You've done it. It's over. And now you can go home with your dear little one.

That's where I am today. We've nearly done it. It's nearly over. And in seventeen days, I can go home with my dear one. Seventeen days. Hallelujah.

Reflections as I Plan to Live (Once Again) With My Husband: Part 1

We've (nearly) done it! After nine months (nine months!) of living in different states, different zip codes, and different time zones, my husband and I are only a couple of weeks away from being reunited permanently. In the same state, zip code, time zone, and the very same home! We will once again get to fall asleep together, wake up together, cook dinners together, and go through daily life together each and every day. Praise the Lord.

For those of you who don't know the reasons behind this temporary arrangement, see this November post.

As I look forward to this joyous reunion, I'm thinking about all the craziness, reflection, difficulty, and joy that has come for both of us this year because of our time apart. It's been hard, for sure. In honor of the nine months, I'm going to reflect on nine things in each of these categories over the next few days. First, the crazy:

Nine Forms of Craziness in a Year of Geographical Separation:

1.  Travel. Ah, travel. In our flights from Philadelphia to Nashville (and Philly/Nashville to Chicago and L.A.) we've gotten delayed, canceled, bumped, lied to (thanks, United), given seats in first class, and gotten snowed in for a whole day. We drove to the Nashville airport once during the storm of the century and passed at least a dozen cars in the ditch. We've become road-and-air warriors, patient airport waiters, and experts at packing for a 2-3 day visit. I now have proper toiletries, including mousse, in two states. I've fallen asleep on the shoulders of strangers (sorry, guy on Southwest flight to Nashville in December...), made new friends because of airport-suffering solidarity (I had to talk some guy down after finding out it was his third - THIRD! - day stuck at O'Hare. He was about to snap...), watched some really dumb movies that I wouldn't normally watch, and read that stupid in-flight catalogue at least a dozen times. Speaking of which, my remote-controlled tarantula and automatic litter box should be arriving soon...

2. Scheduling. Ah, scheduling. iCal has saved our lives and our sanity many a time. We synched our respective calendars early on in the fall to avoid the dreaded "Where-is-my-spouse?" at an odd hour of the day.

But even with the help of iCal, scheduling can sometimes be tricky. Recently Daryl flew out for Easter and then to see me in the play a week later. We usually see each other every 2-3 weeks, so this presented a dilemma. Do we see each other again during the finals season, or wait 3 1/2 weeks before reuniting again? After three weeks I start to feel less like a wife and more like a best friend/therapist who talks to the same guy on the phone every day. We've learned it's best not to go that long. Still, visiting during finals season isn't fun for either of us. "I've missed you, sweetie! Now I'm going to write a paper, so be quiet."

In the end I landed a CPE interview for the following week, so I'll be trekking to Nashville anyway. But still, the scheduling gets ridiculous at points. And crazy.

3. Phone troubles. One evening around 7pm I had great intentions to read my Bible for awhile. I was also ridiculously exhausted from a long day of class and work. I turned off my phone (just for a few moments, you know, so that Jesus wouldn't be interrupted), opened the Bible, and promptly fell asleep. For three hours. I was awakened to my friends Sam and Brandi pounding on my door. I groggily went over and opened it, thinking I had just drifted off for a moment or two. The following dialogue ensued:

Brandi: "Hi, Courtney. Um... here's your dish back that we borrowed."
Me: (sleepily) "Yeah, sure. No problem." Starting to  close the door...
Sam: "And, um... can you call your husband?"
Me: (a bit incredulously) "Seriously? He  called you? He can be a bit of a worrier sometimes. I just turned my phone off to read my Bible for a minute..."
Brandi: "Oh, okay. He just called us because he was worried."
Me: "Seriously? I just turned the phone off a minute ago!"
Sam: "You do know it's 11pm, right?"
Me: "11pm! Oh, shoot!" I ran to my phone only to see six missed calls over a period of four hours... Oops...

4. Lost things. Occasionally I've felt how I imagine a young child of divorced parents must feel. After looking for something I need for a long, long time, I realize I left it at Daryl's. In Nashville. Boo.

This is also troublesome when Daryl notices an article of clothing I've left with him accidentally in Nashville and he calls me to ask if I want it. Have you ever tried to describe clothing to someone over the phone? This is not helped by the fact that I'm a girl and he's a guy (have you ever asked a guy to describe a friend's wedding dress when you can't make the wedding? it  goes like this: well, it was white... it didn't have sleeves... it was kind of shiny... You might as well not even bother). I never have any idea what he's talking about. A pink shirt? What pink shirt? Do I even own a pink shirt? Baaaaaahhhh...

5. Eating in airports. In airports I can eat the following things: Cheetos (believe it or not, they're gf), Snickers bars, Cool Ranch Doritos, McDonald's milkshakes, Starburst, and Skittles. If I forget to pack my own stuff and I get delayed at all, I arrive to visit Daryl shaky, hungry, and hyper like a sleep-deprived five-year old. Not a good combination.

6. The bizarre things we fight about when we're not living in the same place. The following is an actual conversation we had a few months ago in the middle of the afternoon on a Tuesday:

Me: When do you want to talk tonight?
Daryl: What about nine?
Me: Lost is on at nine.
Daryl: Well, I'm going to bed at nine my time. I have an early morning.
Me: Then let's talk at eight your time.
Daryl: That's when Lost is on.
Me: Oh, right. Let's talk at seven then.
Daryl: I have a meeting at seven.
Me: Can't you stay up a little past nine your time?
Daryl: I'd rather not. Can you watch Lost online tomorrow instead?
Me: I'd rather not. Well, when can we talk?
Daryl: I don't know. The rest of my day is really busy.
Me: Shoot. Maybe we should just talk tomorrow morning?
Daryl: Wait, what are you doing now?
Me: Nothing.
Daryl: Well, we're talking now...
Me: Oh, right. Let's talk now!

This happens all the time.

7. The real value of money. We've spent money on things this year that we wouldn't have dreamed of purchasing in past years. We once paid $150 for Daryl to have an additional 24 hours in Princeton when something came up last minute (and it was worth every penny). We've purchased at least two plane tickets a month for the past nine months (and usually three or four). Honestly, how do you put a price tag on time with your spouse when you only see them every couple of weeks? You can't. This means, of course, that we've had to be careful in other areas. Fewer new shirts and jeans, creative meals. Daryl's become the master of making delicious Sunday soup or chili that lasts for dinner all week.

8. How emotion can be triggered by odd things. The first time Daryl flew in to Philadelphia this year we had been apart for only ten days. We decided to start with a short amount of separation, knowing that we had a long year ahead of us. He flew into Terminal F (aka, Philadelphia's "this-terminal-is-kind-of-an-afterthought-and-thus-VERY-hard-to-find-terminal"). I assumed he'd be in Terminal C where the rest of the US Air flights came in. I parked there and ran into the terminal baggage claim to find him. His flight ended up being about 20-minutes late. My huge I-love-Daryl smile started to get a little droopy. I sat there in the baggage claim, waiting for him to call and feeling like US Air was stealing my husband-time, moment by moment. By the time he landed my smile was droopy indeed. We had 48 hours together, and now we only had 47 1/2!

We then went through a fun game of Terminal C/Terminal F hide and seek where we managed to miss each other three times. Three times! I ran by random passengers and their luggage time after time looking more and more frantic and annoyed. Now I had 46 1/2 hours with my husband, on top of NINE MONTHS apart from him! When we finally saw one another, instead of a joyful reunion Daryl was greeted with a teary, angry, frustrated wife. I wasn't angry at him, but at the seeming injustice of the whole airport system and the whole lonely year ahead of me. How unfair for us to have to spend the year apart! How terrible to waste an hour and a half of our precious time chasing one another through an ugly airport? He had to calm me down, and I had to learn that he wasn't gone forever and that counting each moment made things worse, not better. It took time.

Plus, look how happy he was on his first day of PhD school. It helped to remember this, too.

9. How crazy it can feel to live alone. I've never lived alone. I've lived with my family, with roommates in college and after, and with Daryl. I have never in my life had an apartment to myself. It can be lonely. It can be relaxing. In its worst moments, it can be crazy-making. Sometimes I explain things to the cats like they can help me. "Eliot! Seriously, I can't figure out how to describe this concept in my sermon! You don't have any ideas, do you?"

Living alone definitely affects my cooking. I just don't. Or I make very boring and unbalanced meals. GF fish sticks and a bowl of cereal, anyone? A pear and a cookie for breakfast? Sigh... I'm a person who needs people around. I'm a girl who needs my Daryl.

In other news...
We're looking for a way to celebrate our reunion. My best idea so far is a day long hike in the Smokies when we finally settle in to Tennessee. Any other ideas for us to try out?

Ten on Tuesday (Take Nine)

Welcome back, friends! The play was a smashing success, despite some bumps in the road (one cast member ended up in the E.R., I lost my voice for a day, and we had to fight tooth and nail to get the A/C turned on in the performance hall despite temps of 90 degrees...). It was incredible amounts of fun, and I'll post pictures soon. For now, I'm fighting off a gluten-attack, so all I can muster is a simple "Ten on Tuesday."

Again, courtesy of Roots & Rings.

1.  What book, movie or song has made you want to travel to a particular place?
I've always been intrigued by Italy after reading The Agony and the Ecstasy. Yes, I know Michelangelo no longer lives there, but still... Steinbeck's East of Eden made me curious about California's Salinas Valley, which I'd still love to visit. When Daryl starts getting homesick he listens to Randy Newman's "I Love L.A.," which makes me long for the palm-tree-strewn streets of SoCal. As a grade schooler I was proud to live in Wisconsin because of Laura Ingalls Wilder's The Little House in the Big Woods. I rarely don't fall in love with places I read about.

2. Aside from your significant other, who would you want to take with you on a dream trip?
I have very, very fond memories of traveling through England with my friend Sharece. She was a great travel partner - laid-back, funny, up for anything, and was equally happy chatting and journaling. I love traveling with people who aren't afraid of asking odd questions or making special requests. When we got stranded because the trains in England are, well, unreliable would be a kind way of describing it, she just shrugged and we went to a pub and drank copious amounts of tea and ate fish and chips and laughed about England's England-ness. When we got stranded in another train station, Sharece grabbed a station attendant and sweet-talked her way into a free 2-person sleeping car complete with tea and breakfast. And when we (eventually) made it home, we had a great story to tell.

I love traveling with my parents and sisters, too, and I've had some great trips with Daryl's former DSG (Discipleship Small Group) guys Chris and Steven and Chris's wife Stephanie. We make a fun fivesome, and enjoy equal parts heavy conversation (our last big conversation topic was baptism - infant or adult or both? - and we went at it for hours), laughter, and cooking great food.

3. Where would said dream trip be to?
Is it wrong that what bothers me most about this question is that it ends the question with a preposition? Ugh. What times these are in which we live! I gave my students a mini-lecture the other day about not ending sentences with a preposition and I got 29 blank stares. One student actually knew what I was talking about, and even listed off about 30 prepositions for the class. I don't know who her high school English teacher was, but he/she deserves a medal. And a raise.

The place to which I would travel would probably be Europe. I haven't been back since 2004 and I miss all of the cathedrals and museums and amazing food and cafés. I'd love to take Daryl to Germany and Austria (he's never been and he's been learning German for years), to travel back to Britain or France, or to explore new places I haven't visited like Italy and Spain.

4. If you were hosting guests or providing tips, what three things would you show visitors to your hometown? (be it where you live now or where you grew up)
In Princeton the three best things to see are 1) Grounds for Sculpture (an outdoor sculpture garden/museum in Hamilton, NJ), 2) Einstein's house (sadly, you can't go in it - it's always occupied with a professor + family because the University uses it to lure in new faculty), and 3) Nassau Street. On Nassau you have the glorious Thomas Sweet's (ice cream! mmm...), the Bent Spoon (amazing gelato for all you non-gf-ers), and Halo Pub (locally made ice cream! mmm...). Can you see that my life has a theme? It's a good thing I'm not allergic to dairy, too...

5. If you had a long weekend ahead of you, where you head – beach, city or country/mountains?
I'm currently at the tail end of a nasty gluten-attack (it's poison! pooooiiiissssoooonnn!!!!), so all I can think of right now is going to sleep. And then maybe waking up and eating some fruit. Then, more sleep.

6. Do you have a passport? If so, did you get it for a particular trip or just to have, in case?
I do indeed. I first got a passport when I was in junior high and our family traveled to Europe (yes, it was awesome, and yes, that makes me sound a little bit hoity-toity, but do remember that the dollar was really strong back then, so all of Europe was pretty much a half-off sale). I had blonde hair down to the middle of my back and a silly pink sweater from Old Navy on in the photo. I was pretty happy when it expired and I had to get a new one.

7. Are there any travel souvenirs you collect? If not, is there something else you collect?
No, I'm not really a collector. I have lots of great novels, but I usually don't have them for long  because I give them away to people who I know would love them. I sent my mom home this weekend with The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time. If I didn't like the book, I won't pass it on.

Example: I just read the highly rated novel The Elegance of the Hedgehog. It had potential, and occasionally brilliant moments, but on the whole it was really fussy. I don't like fussy books. You don't have to impress me by constantly proving to me how smart you are and how many words you know - just tell a brilliant story.

8. If you could name a paint color, what color would it be and what would you call it?
It would be a soft gray and I would call it "Eliot Kitty Whiskers."

Ask a silly question, get a silly answer.

9. If you were heading away for a weekend break solo, where would you go? (forget about practicality here and flight times, assume you can get to any city in the world for the weekend)
I would love to go somewhere with a sandy beach and that ridiculous teal-aqua-turquoise colored water to nap, read, and drink cherry cokes with those little umbrellas. This is my finals-week self talking. Ask me again when I'm rested and my answer will be more adventurous.

10. Is there a song or a smell or something that you strongly associate with a particular holiday/place/time, such that it always takes you back?
The Jars of Clay song "Liquid" always reminds me of the beginning of high school (specifically sitting in a car with my friends Amy and Jeff on the way to some youth group activity in the late spring).

The smell of certain soap reminds me of Honey Rock Camp, since they use that to wipe down the tables in the dining hall.

The smell of Gillette shaving cream reminds me of Daryl. Sometimes when I really miss him, I'll use that to shave my legs so that I smell like him all day.

The taste of maple syrup (the real stuff!) reminds me of boiling sap at my friend Tonia's family's home in Wisconsin. The air gets so sugary you can practically eat it. It's amazing.

Share Your Airport Rant

At first, I was mad at Delta. Delta stranded me in Cincinnati for two days, made me pay for my own ($$$!) hotel room, lost my baggage, then sent my baggage to Cincinnati after I was already back in Princeton. To add insult to injury, I got stranded on my way to see my best friend in all the world before she left to deploy for IRAQ. Instead of two days to catch up and relax and see each other, we had eleven hours. Stellar.

Then, I was upset at American. Long story that one. Rude flight attendants, no gate agents, Allentown, PA... Never again. Nuh-uh.

Today, I am angry at United. Long story, I don't want to go into all the gory details now or I will just get angrier. The short version is that my sweet week-long visit with Daryl ended with a slightly delayed red-eye flight that resulted in a flat-out airport sprint in Chicago with ten other passengers (nothing like a flat-out airport spring to bond you with New Jersey strangers). This said flat-out sprint ended with us all breathlessly reaching the gate for a flight that supposedly "left early" (we all would have been just on time) but was clearly still sitting on the tarmac, connected to the jet bridge for another twenty minutes after we got there. Oh, also? No flights to Newark until tomorrow. And it's currently 6am. So now I'm at the Chicago airport buying expensive Internet, biding my time until they fly me to Philadelphia in vie hours where I can then attempt to locate my luggage which supposedly has been sent to Newark. Rock on, United.

To add to the fun, I only got about an hour of sleep on the red-eye (some college kid in the seat in front of us was watching "Father of the Bride" and chuckling hysterically with each scene... I'm glad she was enjoying such a wholesome movie, but honestly, put a lid on it at 3am!), I had a super-fun gluten-attack, and I haven't showered since yesterday. I feel tummy-achey, zombie-fied, and greasy like an oil rig.

I have lots of wonderful updates to post about our Los Angeles visit, which I will do shortly. It was a really sweet time of fellowship, family, and sunshine, and I was (as always) sad to leave. But today's post is dedicated to the airport rant.

Daryl has his own rant. As soon as the folks behind the counter at the gate announce the boarding of first class, he begins grumbling about how the "special people" get to walk on the "magic carpet."

My rant is usually about the inhumanity of it all. Barth writes about "Lordless powers," bastions of evil that are faceless, nameless, and incredibly oppressive. In some small way, this is what dealing with an airport/airline feels like. Whenever something goes wrong, and it inevitably does, there are two options: 1) crabby gate agent who has been dealing with irate customers all day because of problems that almost always aren't his/her fault, or 2) customer service hotline, where you will be on hold until you grow a beard (even if you're a woman), and will finally talk to someone in another country.

After getting the runaround for over an hour during one lost-luggage airport debacle awhile back (mind you, we had only brought carry-on bags, but they had taken them away from us on the plane and checked them through to our final destination which was, as it turns out, the moon), Daryl finally asked the woman at the other end of the line where she was. "The Philippines," was her answer. He cracked up. "So you're in the Philippines trying to help me find my luggage that is supposed to be in Cincinnati, Ohio, but has accidentally been sent to New York?" To her credit, she cracked up a little, too. It is comical, really, when it isn't all infuriating.

Hopefully I'll make it home today. Hopefully I won't be giggling like the Mad Hatter when I do. So help me out, friends. What's your worst airport story? Or what's your best one - the one where they stuck you in first class for no reason and gave you free strawberries and bon-bons? How do you feel about airport travel, and how can we all make it through without losing our minds? Share!

It's Not Really February Unless You're Sniffling

February is always marketed as this wonderful, romantic kind of month. Snow is softly falling, Valentine's Day is approaching, everyone is snug and cozy in their winter hats and jackets.

This is a lie. February is the month of ice storms and depressed single people and weather that teases you with a burst of tantalizing sunshine only to drop to -20 the very next day. February is the month of lingering colds and sinus infections and influenza of many types. February is the worst month. George Herbert once said: "Every mile is two in winter." That goes double for February.

So, in honor of it being February, I'm sick. I remember bragging to my mom four-ish months ago that I hadn't gotten sick since July (not counting my occasional migraines, which obviously aren't germ-related). "I think working at a hospital has exposed me to so many germs, I'm immune!" I chirped, happily.

I guess I didn't count on what being on a plane next to a human petri dish of coughing/sneezing/used tissues could do to a person. And then, using the lovely Delta plane's bathroom only to discover THERE WAS NO WATER in the tap at the sink. There was soap, mind you, but no water. And it wasn't hand-sanitizer. It was soap. So I soaped my hands, wiped them off with a paper towel, and went back to my seat to dig through my backpack for my own hand sanitizer which, of course, was in the bag I checked plane-side. I spent next hour and a half of the flight trying desperately not to touch anywhere near my face.

Clearly, I failed, because now I am sick. Go figure.

It's fitting somehow though, I guess. It's February 1, and if you go through an entire January and February without ever once sitting next to a pile of your own used tissues and watching bad afternoon television, you must be a stronger person than I am. So, I feel lousy and achey and snotty and just generally awful. Welcome to spring semester, eh? First day of class, and here I am in my pajamas. Sigh. Granted, I am going to get dressed to teach later this afternoon. As long as I don't have the swine flu (I got my shot!), I'll drag myself over there. Plus, the walking ball of germs on the Delta flight infected me on Thursday, which means I'm sure I'm not contagious anymore. Just miserable instead.

This is not intended to be a rant about sickness. I already feel crummy enough. Instead, I plan to share with you what is GOOD about getting sick. Not deathly-ill, hospital sick of course (there's not much good about that), but the moderately-ill, I-should-take-a-day-or-two-off-unless-things-are-urgent, stuffed up, sniffly, achy, exhausted kind of sick. The kind of sick where you'll get better if you go to bed at 6pm and nap all day, but you'll drag it out for weeks if you try to fight through it. And then maybe all of you can share with me what you've found to be good about being sick. And then maybe I can find a way to dope myself up enough on cold meds and echinacea to get to class tomorrow...

Things that are Good about Getting Sick

1. Buying sick foods. This used to be chicken soup for me, but since I've been going gluten-free, it's now changed to other foods. GF chicken broth with rice. Sorbet. Fresh-cut watermelon in winter. Simply Orange orange juice. Things that ordinarily wouldn't show up in my home (pricey! unnecessary! indulgent!) suddenly show up in abundance.

2. Shopping at Whole Foods. Daryl and I kind of have a tacit agreement that we don't shop at Whole Foods unless 1) there's a blizzard and we can't drive elsewhere, 2) there's some random ingredient that we really need that only WF stocks, or 3) we're sick and Wegmans and Shop Rite suddenly feel huge and overwhelming. So even when I'm feeling really crummy, going to Whole Foods gives me a little spark of joy.

3. Watching TV/movies without shame. Sure, I can watch a show or two and not feel bad. But when I'm sick I can watch all day, while napping intermittently. Law and Order Marathon? Yes, please.

4. Using the good Kleenex. Puffs Plus is ridiculously overpriced. But wow, does it feel good on my tender little nose. I am that shiny red-nosed claymation girl from the Puffs commercials. A nose in need DOES deserve Puffs Plus, indeed!

5. Umm... that's all I can think of. When I was little, getting taken care of by my mom, dad, and grandma would definitely make this list. My grandma is incredibly adept at making a person feel better. I can still remember her leaning over me when I had the fly and cooing things like, "Ohhh... you don't feel good, do you? What can I get for you? Is there anything that you would like to eat? Poor baby..." When Daryl's around he's pretty good at this, but for now, I get to be sick on my own.

Boo, that.

Yay, February.