Too Blessed to be Stressed

I saw this little sign somewhere that said "2 Blessed 2 be Stressed" and I think of it often.  I thought of it today after a rough day at work.  In response to a case of the grumpies, a photo dump of  a fraction of what I have to be thankful for.

{Tiger Mountain}

{in the summer time when the weather is fine}

{Chocolate birthday cake at grandma's}

{pre-Sounders game gelato for two}

{the way home}

{the hub's fave breakfast at our fave bakery}

{bff}

{Thanksgiving planning}

{trails}

{autumnal}

Five Years (!!!)

{year 0: newbies}

{year 1: downtown fargo}

{year 2: the fam}

{year 3: cape cod surprise}

{year 4: eerily similar, Pyrotechnics Guild fireworks}

{year 5: recreating our first date}

Last week we celebrated our fifth wedding anniversary.  GAH. Five years.  I can't believe it/I totally believe it.

Then this happened a few days ago, via text.

Me: I don't know how you do what you do
Me: I'm so in love with you
Me: It jest keeps getting better and better

Ryan: What do you mean?

Me: I wanna spend the rest of my life
Me: with you by my side forever and ever
Me: every little thing that you do
Me: Baby, I'm amazed by you

Ryan: Ur weird.

Romance 4eva, kids.

I Felt Like Cheering

This is the first hour where I feel I've been able to catch my breath since our trip "home".  It's strange to feel like home is multiple places but I suppose that has always been the case.  I always have a sense of homecoming when we visit my grandma because I have so many memories of her house, the fields, the back 40, Sandy Lake, and the little country cemetery where my great-grandparents and my grandpa are.  I feel there, more than anywhere else, like this is where I'm from because of the way my grandma sees the past in the field her mother used to plow and the neighbors they used to know and the place where the little country school house stood.  It's where she grew up and my dad grew up and I've seen pictures of my infant self being passed around the same breakfast table where we ate last week.  There's something grounding in knowing how a place used to be and how it still is.  It felt good and familiar to be in North Dakota and in my hometown but there wasn't the same sense of homecoming.  Maybe because things are changing and it's hard to feel the same about a landscape that I used to know and don't anymore.  I haven't lived at home for almost 10 years (which is mildly alarming to realize) and as much as I love North Dakota, I'm not from there and will never feel like I'm from there. (The breathtaking flat.  And that wind!)

When we stepped off the plane and I saw the 'Seattle' in a Seattle's Best Coffee's sign, I felt like cheering.  When I drove to work on Monday in mild morning traffic with the Olympics jagged and beautiful in the distance, I felt like cheering.  When I got into the passenger seat of Ryan's car after a week of driving not our car, I felt like cheering.  I feel at home here because this is where our present is and we have each other.  Home is where the heart is, as simple as that.

I have woefully few pictures from our trip, just a few here and there, but here are some from more relaxed moments during the week.

{Modesty Blaise + Caribou}

{up north}

{first date lunch: repeated 9 years later}

{viking church}

{more viking church}

{my dad's t-bird}

Cookie Sundae Saturday

When Ryan gets busy in the kitchen, it's bad news for my waistline.

But it makes for a pretty rad weekend.

Thankful For

When I was making this little wordle, I found that it was difficult to express thankfulness in single words.  I am thankful in word chunks. Like, "my husband's general awesomeness" or "my sister's goofy texts with a Spanish lisp" or "parents who taught me everything".

I have a lot to be thankful for, serious and silly, big and small, and I don't want to forget any of it.

It is the sweet, simple things of life which are the real ones after all.

-Laura Ingalls Wilder

So Cute It Makes Me Cry A Little

 Meet my Grandma Pacita.



She’s a firecracker.  She’s running after my husband to box his ears for taking too many pictures of her.  And she’s 80. 

She called me the other day and we were talking about about the 40’s, when she lived in the Philippines during WWII, when “everything was zero and the English was crooked”. 

When everything was zero and the English was crooked.  I love that so much it hurts. 

She said there was no food, they had no money and she was 48 before she came to the U.S.  She’s feisty, an amazing cook, generally adorable and speaks the most expressive English.  I just love her to pieces.

A Quilt For My Grandma Edie (Life List Update)

(Part of my efforts to work through these goals this summer)

Meet my Grandma Edith.



She’s the one in the middle.  Cute, right?  Those are my aunts with her and that lovely little group of ladies made me a quilt for my high school graduation.  In like 2 weeks.  Because my grandma innocently asked me what I would like for a graduation gift.  (Just a note to all friends and family – not a good idea to ask me what I want because a)I know exactly what I want and b)it’s probably expensive or c)extremely labor intensive, like a quilt.  Loveyouallsomuch and consider yourselves fairly warned).
My grandma has always made quilts and we had some around when I was growing up that were made from my grandpa’s old work shirts and uniforms.  I love those quilts – they were made of dark brown and blue squares and were heavy, dense and super warm.  My grandma even has a ladylike quilt that she made as a teenager.  Every single stitch is hand stitched and impossibly perfect.  It boggles my mind.  Seriously.  My grandma is all kinds of amazing.

It was one of my goals this summer to make some simple lap quilts like the ones over at The Purl Bee and since my grandma recently gave me some fabric from her stash to play around with, I thought I would make her a little lap quilt as a thank you.



I love how it turned out and I hope my grandma loves it too, but there were times when I was working on this that I felt like screaming.  And screaming. And screaming.  And possibly never stop screaming.
 Like when I had to re-thread the needle practically every time I moved it over to stitch down another little section.  Or when I can’t sew in a straight line to save my life.  Or when my bobbin jammed like 5 times in row.  Or when I died from boredom from sewing SO SLOW with my walking foot.  (I totally may or may not have tried to play Angry Birds on my phone while sewing with that stupid thing.)

But when all the screaming stopped and I had a cute little quilt, it was so worth it.  I may even attempt another one in the hopes that someday I can make a full quilt and be like my grandma.

Mildly Bibliophiliac's Biggest Fan (Hi, Dad!)

When I was a monkey

I'm a lot like my dad and the older I get the more I turn into a mini-Mer.  Just ask my husband.  So, in honor of Father's Day and because my dad has always encouraged me to write and is my number one reader, I thought I'd give a list of things I've learned/inherited from my dad and things I would still like to learn.

My wedding day, before the ceremony

Learned:
My dad is a geek.  I remember wearing matching Egghead sweatshirts, eating free pizza and waiting in line at MIDNIGHT with my dad for the launch of some geek technology in the early 90's.  Now I'm married to a geek and I couldn't be happier.  Geeks make good husbands.  My dad is a skeptic.  This inherited critical thinking is why I'm a libertarian wannabe and was an English major.  It's a good thing I have some skepticism because I also got a good dose of my mom's gullibility.  My dad loves a good meal. This can be a little uncomfortable when we're sitting in Hardee's mowing through burgers and my dad goes, "I'm really in the mood for lobster bisque".  Hey, me too, Dad.  Me too.

Trying to learn:
My dad is honest, with himself and with everyone else.  (Except for when it comes to using those blank tiles in Scrabble, then watch out.)  My dad is comfortable with silence even when everyone else feels squirmy and the urge to make small talk.  Sometimes, long silences are good.  I need more long silences in my life.  My dad is not afraid to ask outright questions.  It's not uncommon for my dad to throw out his favorite conversation bomb, "So, what are your hopes and dreams?".  This is a family joke but I've heard almost complete strangers give serious, thoughtful answers.  It's a good question.

Early photography outing, Duluth

Thanks, Dad, for having high expectations for me and for showing me I can always do more than I thought.  Like take a shower by myself even when I didn't know what to do after washing my hair.  Or move away right after high school to get a summer job before college.  Or fly to Chicago and take the El downtown by myself.  I love you and I'm so glad you're my dad!